Unsteady || H.S

Chapter 3

~September 10th, 2015~

It's been two weeks since I've seen Harry, and of course I feel bad for cutting him out like that but that's how I've survived in life so far and I can't just stop now. That doesn't mean that I don't think about him all the time though I wish it did, I can't seem to get him out of my head no matter how hard I try. I hate that I don't hate him, even more the fact that I can't hate him. Harry got into my head at a vulnerable time and now it's like the thought of him is just trapped in there.

I think about that night as I apply the last bit of makeup to my eyes and begin on my lips. The robe is removed from my body and I set my clothes on my body, the leather leggings hugging my legs as the printed crop top shows off my belly button piercing. A bit of jewelry is added before I fix my curls, my yellow nail polish against my tan skin catching my eyes every once in a while. After tying up my heels and grabbing my bag and phone I'm on my way out the door. Ramsey had already left for an earlier class an hour earlier so I didn't have to worry about us getting in each other's way.

My first class, philosophy, is packed with students, most obviously talking with old friends and the rest making new ones. I sit down in the front row of the class in silence, not daring to make a sound as a few people glance my way. Subconsciously I run my fingers through my hair as I take out my notebook and pencil, instantly writing random line of poetry in the paper's margin.

I jump slightly when I hear the chair beside me slide out to accommodate someone sitting down. I'm equally as surprised when the person purposely cleared their throat and I find Harry sitting next to me. A black long sleeve shirt covers his torso with skinny jeans to match. It's obvious that he's upset, and I can't blame him, but he saw me at my worst and I can't be around that. No one has ever seen me that way and I just wanted to crawl under a rock and die.

"I don't want to upset you, but I believe you owe me a few bottles of Jack Daniels," a laugh bursts out of me loudly before I cover my mouth. "I'll make sure to get those to you Harry," he smiles down at me and I blush, the entire classroom quite. "So what are you doing in a sophomore class?"

"I've already taken the freshman level philosophy class, and I didn't want to take it again so they let me in here. I'm also taking the junior level English classes." His smile shows off the dimples in his cheeks and I can't help but smile back. "Then I guess I'll have you in two classes. Twice the chance to ask why you've been refusing to speak to me." I sigh and cringe, wondering if I should tell him why but before I get the chance the professor walks in.

"Besides clothing what do you own most," he points me out of the group as soon as he reaches the front of the class. "Lush cosmetic products," I answer without hesitation or stutter. "What one worries about most can often directly correlate with their past. What makes that true in you?" My jaw clenches at his words, my need to always be as clean as possible the result of having my mother's blood on my body. "There's feelings that you can never wash away," I whisper. "But you sure as hell can try," he smiles sympathetically down at me and Harry rests his hand on my thigh.

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, suddenly angry with the pity party being thrown for me. "And you," his attention has turned towards Harry and he stutters. "Hair products," his voice is low and sad. "Because...?" He sighs and dismisses it as a result of his past like mine and is rewarded with a curt nod. "When I was younger my father burned my hair off, almost killed me but every day of wearing that stupid beanie I wished he had. Now I can't seem to cut it so I've got to at least take care of it," his words shock me into silence, the rest of the class divulging in someone else's story.

I lean over, pressing my lips to his cheek and returning to my position before he can say a word about it. Of course I try not to think about what he said for the rest of the two hours but his words constantly run through my head. As a child he was tortured, that's no exaggeration even without knowing whatever else has happened to him.