Dice [h.s.]

92

"What was I made for?" -Billie Eilish

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Two Weeks Later

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My hand was intertwined with Harry's as the funeral processions finally ended. I released my tension as Harry drove us back to our house. I was so done saying "Thank you" after people were giving their condolences. I had already been through this once, and it wasn't any more fun a second time.

My tear sockets were dry while the only thing I felt was exhaustion. I was tired of feeling and tired of faking. And I was tired of wearing this stupid black dress that was too conservative for my liking.

The funeral was stupid anyways since I didn't even have a body to show. I made it a closed casket because the casket was empty. But no one had to know that but me and the guys.

Harry parked in the garage and we both got out. He let us into the house and I immediately pulled my feet out of my heels and hung my coat on the coat rack. I walked towards Harry's liquor cabinet and grabbed some whiskey, poured it in a cup, and walked to sit on the couch.

Harry sat down beside me on the couch, pulling his arm over my legs as I sat close to him. I slowly sipped on the much needed alcohol.

"I hate funerals." I groaned.

"It was a beautiful ceremony nonetheless." Harry answered.

"I can't believe she wasn't there." I frowned, nearly unclogging my tears.

Natalie, my best friend, was nowhere to be found. Call after call was useless when trying to figure out where she was. After a week of ignoring, I decided that we were no longer friends. I was hurt, almost as much as becoming an orphan had hurt.

"She has to have a good excuse." Harry sighed, squeezing my leg. He was even more disappointed than I was.

"I don't care. Our friendship is over." I said bluntly.

"You're just saying that." Harry rubbed up and down my leg, concentrating on our conversation.

"I wish I was." I locked eyes with Harry, sharing with him my honest intentions. He sighed and continued to rub my leg.

"Want to go to sleep?" Harry asked, changing the touchy topic.

"Not really tired." I finished the alcohol and put it on the end table, making a note to grab it tomorrow.

"Can I take you somewhere?" Harry asked.

"Yes." I nodded.

Harry and I changed out of our funeral clothes and into sweats. I threw a Nike sweatshirt on from Harry's closet and met him in his convertible. He had put the top down, just the way I liked it.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I lit a cigarette from his stash and put it to my lips.

"You'll see." Harry began to drive the car out of his garage and onto the street. He gestured to the cigarette, having me put it to his mouth so he could suck on it along with me.

We shared the cigarette until it was completely done and I was left empty handed. I allowed the wind of the approaching night to fly through my hair, now being the lightest I've felt within the past few weeks.

Before I knew it, Harry was pulling into the Alea parking lot. I looked at him questionably as he held back a small smile on his face. What kind of games was he conjuring in his head right now?