Devils Star | h.s

Chapter 4

I had taken it upon myself to tour the apartment, and although the entrance to the place was all white and gold, the rest of the apartment was more dark greys, black and white. For example, the living room had dark oak floorboards and in the middle sat a grey rug, a dark grey couch and an almost black-marbled coffee table.

The kitchen had white-marbled flooring, as cabinets lined up against the wall in an 'L' shape while an island was placed in the centre with white chairs placed alongside them. My room, however, was at the back of the apartment. A long black wall with a painting in the centre, and just below, lay my bed. The frame was a light grey, but the neatly made sheets were white.

Making my way toward the living room, I pause when a figure stretched across the grey couch caught my attention. It was Harry, I couldn't tell if he was asleep or dead. His head was on the armrest while his tatted arm covered his eyes.

"Watching me while I sleep is pretty creepy, panties."

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest, "It's Aurora. And I wasn't watching you." I said while he sits himself up with a yawn. "Maybe you should lie in bed."

"Is that an invitation?" He turns his head in my direction, a smirk suddenly appearing on his face. "I'm just jet-lagged." he shrugs.

I shrug my shoulders in understanding, "I mean flying from Carolina to New York is a pretty long flight." I hadn't realised what I said until it was too late and Harry was widening his eyes at me.

"How did you know that I was coming from Carolina?" Before I could make up a ridiculous explanation, Harry cuts me off, continuing to question me he asks, "Also, you still haven't asked who I am. Not that I expect people to know, but you don't come off as the type to listen to music."

Now, my impulsive side wanted to reply with something snarky, wanting to point out that his ego is as large as his big head that's shoved so far up his ass- BUT, I refrained and instead said, "I have a sixth sense."

"You have a sixth sense?" He slowly repeats.

"Yeah." The awkward tension you couldn't cut with a knife. Looking back and forth at each other, you could tell that even in the silence this guy could call my bullshit. But that doesn't mean I was going to admit the truth. No way in hell.

"You're a groupie after all." He chuckled.

"Wha- no! What the hell even is a groupie?"

He hummed, nodding his head before placing his feet on the ground, now using his elbows to lean on his knees. "You know what Panties? They're two types of groupies." He held up his index finger, "The first type pretty much stalks me everywhere, won't leave me alone, won't stop swooning over me."

Swoon? How big is this guy's ego seriously?

Now holding up two fingers he continues, "And then there's the second kind who pretends like they don't know me, to come off as special and interested in me. But it's completely obvious that they're still hopelessly in love with me."

"Are you implying that I'm 'hopelessly in love with you'?" I scoff.

"Do you see yourself as the second type of groupie?" He wiggles the two fingers while lifting his brows in a joking manner.

No, but I see myself punching you.

"Oh, for- I'm not a groupie!"

"Okay," He drops his arm to now cross them both over his chest, leaning back on the couch and spreading his legs out in front. "Lemme tell you something. You're hot. So, let's just have a fun time now that everything's cleared up."