𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐒 two years ago, my life changed forever. All it took was one night to alter the rest of my life. I wasn't sure about a lot of things however, there are two things that I was absolutely certain on: what I wanted to wear and who...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Jude's on top of me and I hate myself with every kiss pressed against my jaw. He's breathing heavy, his hands roaming around my body and all I can think about is my dying sister and my ex-boyfriend downstairs.
I roll my head to the side on the dark pillow in one of the Forbes master suites. From here I can see the open sliding doors into the bathroom. I can see Tilden's shirt on the floor by the door in the hallway, my heels near the black marble desk.
"Fuck, Harper," he mumbles against my neck. I bring myself back to him, smile and put my hands on his shoulders, try roll out the kink in my back.
I push him off me, straddle his lap instead and kiss his chest. Try not to think about how George loved that. His hands come around to my backside, trying to get under the short skirt of my dress.
My chest constricts, the kink in my back gets worse, my head starts throbbing. I pull back. "I just need to freshen up."
He nods, let's me go and reaches for his phone as I grab my bag from the floor and close the sliding bathroom doors. I brace myself against the sink, refusing to look at myself in the lit-up mirror. I can't do it. I can't look at myself because I feel sick.
Gulping deep breaths, I try and focus on things I can feel and see in the bathroom. Bit fucking tricky since 'Forbes' is embossed in literally everything.
I start to feel the sweat bead on my open back, my skin feels hot to the touch when I press my palms to my cheeks. I feel like I can't breathe, I'm stuck in here because Jude's still outside.
The big empty pit in my stomach starts to clench, making me dry heave over the sink. My throat is stinging with the need to release the tears building up. I'm having a third panic attack in the space of just a few hours. I'm exhausted.
I knock my bag over, my fingers numb and tingling as I rifle through and pull my phone out. Press a few buttons, it rings and then a few minutes later I feel a lot calmer than I just did.
When I go back out, Jude's sitting on the side of the bed with his shirt on but open. "You're gonna go, ain't you?" He smiles.
"Um, I don't feel well," I shake my head, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
He squints. "It's him, though, really. I know it is, Harper. Don't lie."
I shuffle my feet, look over his shoulder at the black tinted floor-to-ceiling window that overlooks Hyde Park. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he chuckles, shakes his head. Looks a bit disappointed but I can't sleep with him. Not here. Not ever, really. "Do you want me to call you a cab? Have you got a driver?"
"No, thanks. I—I've got a car outside."
"Oh, yeah, alright," he doesn't look at me as he gets his things, slips his shoes on. We walk out together, he gives me some awkward side hug before getting into the back of a black cab.
