Cherry Bomb [H.S.]

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

With one of my microphones in my hand, I sit criss-cross in the computer chair in my studio at home. I had been trying to lay down vocals for this particular track for the past hour, but the melody I have in my head just isn't matching the way I want with the acoustic part I've recorded. I sigh as I begin to roll my head on my shoulders, and I glance over the back of my chair to see Harry laying down on the couch that's in here. He has a book held up in the air above his face as he reads - the leaves of his fern tattoos just barely peeking over the waistband of his tight, ripped, black jeans since his shirt had ridden up a bit due to his position.

Since our first kiss in the studio, we hadn't really done much else than that. We've shared a few more kisses here and there, but it hasn't gone any further. I've been busy with recording, and he's been picking up extra shifts whenever I'm not at home. He claims that he's trying to save up as much money as soon as possible so that he can get out of my hair, but I also think he doesn't necessarily like being in the quiet of my home by himself. Right now, I think he just likes being in the company of someone he feels safe with, and I'm sure his mind can get a bit loud if he's alone.

Last week we had managed to lay down the gang vocals for the cover we recorded together, and I was able to go ahead and send that off for review. I know that over the past few days when we've gone back and forth to collect stuff from his mom's house that he's been a little more down than usual. He doesn't talk about whether or not his mom and his boyfriend are home when he goes in, therefore, I don't know if they're barking in his ear the entire time he's just trying to clear his things out.

It hurts my heart to think that even after all this time, his mom is still continuing to choose other men, and alcohol, over her own son. Part of me hoped that when Harry got the job in highschool to start providing for both of them that she would realize just how much love he had for her - regardless of her treating him like a burden more there gift that he is. It's more than obvious now that that's definitely not the case, and I don't think it'll ever be.

Seeing the look on his face every time he comes back out to my car with a bag filled, and box in his arms, sends me right back to the first time he had asked to stay the night at my house.

Having just finished up the essay for my English class, I hear my phone start to ring on the desk beside my keyboard. Harry's name flashes across the screen, and I pick it up - pressing it to my ear.

"Don't tell me that you scratched the Fall Out Boy CD I let you borrow already," I giggle into the phone before the noise from his end cuts through the speaker.

I can hear yelling in the background, one voice female, and one voice male, and my eyebrows narrow. I can't make out what they're saying, but I can tell that Harry is at least a good distance away from whatever is going on.

"Harry?" I ask, standing up from my desk. "Where are you?"

"Hey, Lo," his voice trembles as he speaks, and I feel my pulse begin to race. "I'm...I'm at home. I'm sorry for calling so late, but do you think that you could, uh, could you maybe come and pick me up?"