All Too Well [H.S]

Eight

Lilah Green

Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania

8:42 PM

November 30th, 2024

I silently ignored Harry on the sofa as music strummed through my Beats headphones and into my ears. We've been sitting here all day pretty much, I made both of us sandwiches, and we also ate those in silence. Once in a while, I'd put a record on for him to listen to and eye him every now and then when he'd tap his foot to the track's beat. Aside from that, he's been mindlessly scrolling on his phone, taking a few phone calls concerning the rescheduling of his concert.

I must have checked the news updates on the black ice at the least seventy times. I'd peer over at Harry's phone every so often, who, on occasion, did the same thing. We both desperately wanted to escape from each other; there was no point in talking to one another.

Needless to say, I updated Marianne on the situation with Harry. She believes my life is a movie and that I have to use my circumstances and pitch it to Netflix. I told her the final thing we could ever need is another version of 'The Notebook,' which is my least favourite film in the world, by the way. She then informed me if I didn't want to pitch the film concept, I could always murder him, and she'd help me hide his body.

Maybe I'll take it into consideration.

Harry shifts his position on the couch, making me snap out of my internal monologue. I reduced the music on my phone, wanting to pay more interest to him. It was difficult to cover my harsh stare; however, I remained to study him. I hadn't genuinely gotten to examine him without feeling like my body would wilt away from nerves.

The scruff of his beard looked messy, but I didn't mind it. His brown curls laid properly against his ears, looking fuller than before. By some means, this man has aged backwards, and I wouldn't be surprised if many mistaken him for a 21-year-old. A silk, cream-coloured button-up clung to his chest, the material tight in regions where his muscles were too large to fit. The primary three buttons were open, giving me a bit of insight into his tanned collarbones. I recalled four years ago when Harry had just begun working out, and he clearly stuck to it. His thighs were huge, his black trousers nearly swallowing them. My eyes then trailed to his fingers that laid promptly on his lap; he still sported the same rings he had when he merely became an adult. Gold engravings of his initials on his pointer and ring finger, one on the left hand and one on the right.

My eyebrows knit collectively, noticing he has a ring on every finger except for two on his right hand. His centre finger and ring finger. I wondered why-

Oh, holy hell.

I gulped; that couldn't be the reason, could it? I shake my head at the intrusive thoughts, knowing that's his personal lifestyle.

"What are you looking at?" Harry's boastful voice makes my eyes dart away from his hands, locking eyes with him, "Oh, nothing. Sorry. Just your jewelry." I said awkwardly, slouching down in my nook.

Why does he make me so nervous?

"Oh," He smiles, picking his hand up and analyzing his jewelry,  "Yeah, I haven't taken them off in years."

"Clearly," I muttered, shoving my face in my phone.

"What was that?" He perks a brow, leaning over to me.

"Nothin'..." I said back lowly, preserving my eyes on the playlist I was scrolling through.

"You never use that room, do you?" Harry asks, motioning over to the place I once found serenity in. I pulled my headphones off my ears in a rapid motion, glancing over at the door to the room. My head shakes, "No. not really." I whispered, not making eye contact with him.