Lapse [h.s]

Chapter twenty*

I was right, we ended up at Harry's apartment.

Am I surprised? No.

Am I mad about it? No.

The car ride was awkward, but almost not. It was like... comfortable silence I guess.

Harry and I never spoke a word, but I was okay with that. I gave me time to ponder over my thoughts about what the fuck just happened back there.

We also just left Jess. I'm not sure how she's getting home.

Harry doesn't seem to care, he didn't think twice when he dragged me to the car, didn't even glance backwards.

I'm sure she'll be ok, this isn't her first gala and she was talking to other people anyways.

Maybe HS Unlimited isn't the right fit for me, all I've had since I joined is overwhelming anxiety. And not the good kind.

I think I've furrowed my eyebrows so much I've had a constant headache the past two weeks.

Cut to right now and I'm sat on Harry's sofa, still not having said a word. He's gotten me a glass of water and handed it to me, but he's messing around in the kitchen and has been since we got here.

Pacing back and forth, opening and closing the fridge and cupboards. Occasionally staring into space too.

I think he's avoiding me, either not knowing what to say or just doesn't have anything to say to me at all.

I don't know how to approach this situation, he's not going to say anything to me if I straight up ask him what happened, I'm going to have to prey the information out of him and I know it.

Like getting blood out of a stone.

I clear my throat, in hopes of snapping Harry back to reality, it doesn't work. Instead, he walks towards the hallway in an attempt to escape me probably.

"Harry." He keeps walking.

"Harry!" I shout out to him before he completely rounds the corner.

He stops in his tracks, taking two careful steps backwards to come back into my eye line. Crossing his arms over his body, leaning against the door frame.

His eyes look tired, almost like he's very worn out and not had enough sleep. Dark circles lining his face as he stands there dead expression, looking at me.

"What do you want, Grace?" He spits back through gritted teeth.

Charming

"A conversation would be nice."

He scoffs, then studies me for a moment, taking his time to look me up and down. Like he's trying to read what's going on inside my brain at this very moment.

"Okay, stop trying to read me and just talk to me." I roll my eyes.

"I wasn't try–"

"I'm not mad at you anymore, I just want some answers. Don't you think that's what you owe me?"

"I don't owe you anyth–"

"Please." I sigh at him, falling back further into the sofa.

He drops his arms down by his side, talking small steps over to the sofa. Letting out a sigh before sitting down, leaving just a small gap between us. So small he may as well be sitting on my lap.

I bring my knees to meet my chest, shuffling backwards to get myself comfortable.

This is awkward.