earned it [h.s.]

16.

Genevieve.

"So how was your night last night?" Harry broke the silence as we were seated in yet another stuffy restaurant. We were at an event with Blair on Friday and I had been mindlessly running my finger over the edge of my water glass, lost in thought.

I snapped out of it, lifting my head as my thinking got interrupted by Harry's voice. Forcing him a small smile, I shrugged, "Nothing special."

Was I really supposed to tell him I got drunk and high and cried myself to sleep after he didn't answer my phone call? That I sucked off my neighbour for weed?

Harry simply nodded, a little uncomfortable at the table. We were at the far end again, Blair mingling and laughing along with all the other investors of this new hospital wing they were opening up. I eventually drew a breath, "How about you? Did you enjoy spending time together?"

He blinked at me for a moment before nodding again, shoulders tense, "Yep."

"Good." I murmured.

Arriving at Harry and Blair's place about an hour ago, it didn't really seem like they were glad to be back in one another's company after a few days apart. Mrs. Hilton had smiled widely upon laying eyes on me, cupping my cheeks to pull me in for a long kiss in front of her husband's eyes – who had admitted to also wanting to kiss me just two days prior.

During our car ride to a more suburban part of London, I was polite and asked Mrs. Hilton how her trip went. She explained a little, talking about people I had never heard of before and then shooting me an endearing look when I was lost in her conversation.

Harry hadn't spoken much.

And then we sat down, my thighs on display in the short, soft yellow dress with my blonde hair up in half-updo. It was overall cold in this venue, but Mrs. Hilton denied me when I asked if she could borrow me some sort of a blazer. Tilting her head to the side sympathetically, she shook her head and told me she didn't have anything in my size.

She made me shrink just a little bit more.

And I already wasn't having a great day. Waking up with a hangover the size of the United States, I spent most of my day hanging over the toilet to vomit out whatever toxins I had put in my body the evening before. My head was pounding, my eyes were hooded, my face was pale and I was overall trembly from the lack of decent nutrients and the uneasy sleep.

I had woken up feeling like shit, yet the first thing I did was check my phone to see if Harry had texted me or called me back after leaving me unanswered.

He didn't.

I told myself I was good for this event tonight, pulling myself together in time to look presentable and fake the perfect amount of smiles to convince Blair I was fine. Not that she really cared. She didn't notice the difference between a good and a bad day for me.

"Are you sure you're okay? You're awfully quiet." Harry whispered back, leaning into me a little. I refused to look to the left and see him, I refused to see the intense gazing green of his eyes piercing into mine and pulling answers and truths out of me. I'd fold immediately. I took a sip of water to soothe my scorching throat, "I'm fine." I insisted, "Just a little tired."

"Oh." He murmured, nodding to himself, "Long night? Out with friends?"

"No."

My head snapped up when I heard Blair's chair scraping back. She elegantly got up her feet, her pencil skirt accentuating her slender, tall figure. She wore a v-neck though tonight, a bit more dressed down than I was used to from her at events like this.