Malefactor [H.S.]

50

Harry's bringing me with him tonight to go get a tattoo. I don't know which part I'm more excited for: him having another one for me to gawk at or us finally doing something that requires leaving one of our apartments.

It's been fours days now since we landed back in the United States and a good ninety percent of that time has been spent either in my apartment or his. We've gone out to get food twice and he brought me yesterday after Zayn and Niall left to go hang out with Riley at our apartment. Feeling awkward just lingering in the apartment with us, he brought us to a coffee shop her and I used to frequent before everything happened, him sitting outside to give us space to talk and sit inside.

It's beyond nice that he's doing any of this for me because he doesn't have to, essentially babysitting me all day long since he's too afraid to let me out of his sight due to the shit Colin pulled that almost had me killed.

Regardless, though, I've been rotting away inside for days now. It made sense at first for us to not do much since I was physically and emotionally drained and he was barely capable of standing for too long without getting lightheaded, but that's less of a pressing issue now. He isn't dizzy anymore since the pills he's taking have fully started working, his bruises healing nicely, and the wound on his forehead turning into a small scab that's barely noticeable under his long hair. Basically, there's no excuse to keep sitting inside his apartment now other than him being extra paranoid ever since we came back to New York.

Thankfully, he told me this morning that he had a tattoo appointment tonight and asked if I wanted to come along, which of course was a resounding yes on my end. I've been practically bursting at the seams all day excited to leave, treating this like it's some major event and not a casual outing to go have a needle permanently etch more ink into his skin.

I back up from where I'm hunched over the counter, staring at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I slowly take in my entire appearance, pleased with how the makeup I've spent the past hour doing has come out. My lips smack together to evenly spread the gloss, my pinky slightly smudging the brownish color lining my lips to make it blend a little better. My hair is released from the claw clip I've had it pulled back in to keep it out of my face, grabbing my brush and quickly go through my straightened locks to make sure everything's good.

I'm wearing a 70s-styled halter tank top with black jeans sitting on my hips to expose a few inches of my midriff. There isn't a necklace resting on my chest for once, making me feel bare as I fidget with the gold hoops on my ears. A few dainty rings rest on my fingers, feeling the need to overcompensate with other jewelry when my neck is bare.

"Camden," Harry's voice carries through the closed bathroom door. "We gotta go so I'm on time for my appointment. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I call back, snatching my phone off the counter, along with my lip gloss and lip liner. I hurry out the door and grab my purse off the bed, throwing it on my shoulder to join Harry where he's waiting for me in the hallway.

With one hand on my shoulder, he ushers me down the stairs and through the first floor of his apartment. I stand a few feet away as he locks up, triple-checking that it's locked and that the alarms are set before he's heading with me toward the elevator.

When we step inside, I lean back against the wall with my hands behind my back. He stands in the center, taking in my appearance with a smug shake of his head.

"What?" I can't help but ask.

"You know we're just going to a tattoo shop, right?"

Becoming suddenly too self-aware of my outfit and makeup, I stiffen. "Why, is this too much?"

"Fuck no," he curses, stepping toward me. "You look hot, Cam." His hands find the few inches of my bare skin where my top and jeans don't meet, slotting there to hold me. "I can just tell you're eager to get out and do something."