Bad Intentions ↠ h.s.

Chapter Thirteen

(why are you guys still reading this we wrote it like 3+ years ago lmaoooooo it's cringey as hellllll)

-Arabella-
I push my wet hair to the side, wrapping the frayed towel around my body, hanging from above my breasts to my mid thigh, sighing at my reflection.

I felt gross.

I pull the towel down a bit to reveal a small spot of my stomach, as I tug on it with my fingers. Ever since Harry and I have been getting physical my biggest insecurity has been getting worse. I feel gross. I think that he thinks I'm gross. I am gross.

"Bel?" I hear his voice call softly, a few knocks coming afterwards. "You almost done? We have to hit the road."

"Yeah," I reply, dropping the towel completely and picking up my clothes from off the counter, taking them out of their completely folded state, and sliding the cotton products onto my body. "Just a sec."

I'm not prepared at all to be in a car with him for more than sixteen hours, especially when I'm feeling my lowest. I purposely lost four hours of sleep last night just so I can make an excuse to ignore him. I've tried working on my weight, but nothing is working. It's exhausting. No matter how hard I try, I find myself feeling a thousand times worse when I see him look at me.

I'm changing myself. For a boy. Correction, man.

I read the printed text displayed on my graphic tee placed as Rolling Stones.

Harry knocks on my door again. "Baby girl?" His voice was still soft but impatient. I don't know why he's in such a hurry to go get that ungrateful thunder cunt.

"One moment please," I call back. I double check my appearance in the mirror. My eyes awkwardly scan myself up and down, grimacing when my eyes hit all of my least favorite places. Also known as everywhere. I growl in anger and toss a gray hoodie on above my shirt in any attempt to cover up the rolls on my stomach.

"Bel, come on! We don't have all day!"

He didn't sound angry, but he didn't sound real happy either. I straightened my clothes and walked over to the door, tugging it open. "I'm almost done, Daddy," I said in the sweetest voice I could muster. "I just need to finish packing."

Harry follows me back into the room. "We aren't gonna be gone long," he says. I grab the shirts I laid out and stuff them into the suitcase. Two hands set themselves onto my hips. My breath hitches. "Am I making you nervous, baby girl?" His lips were right behind my ear. I could feel his breath against the back of my neck.

"Daddy, I thought we had to hurry," I mumble.

His lips curl upwards into a smile against my skin. "We have a little time..."

"She's going to get mad at us," I say aloud, fumbling to find a way out of this situation. "I don't want that."

"Who cares about if she's mad or not? She sold our car!" He nearly shouts with a following chuckle. For considering himself fine and okay; He seems pretty passive aggressive about the whole ordeal. Leaning more towards the aggressive side.

"Well yeah, but... but... I feel really bad," I admit softly. But the truth was, I was enjoying this a lot more than I was feeling guilty over it. That made me feel even worse. I really like Harry, like that. I know I shouldn't but I do. I do so much. He's made me feel a way I never have before. Both sexually and emotionally.

"Don't. She's a selfish whore who has screwed around on me more than you can even imagine. This is only fair," Harry said, beginning to sway us. My backside bumped against his crotch, where a hard lump was. What's that? "Don't feel guilty. She's not really a wife. She isn't anything to me. Nothing that matters anything. But you? You matter most."