Broken Defender

Chapter Eleven ~ Lies & Confrontations

I had hoped that Tuesday would be better than Monday had been. I hardly slept a wink last night, as all I could think of was Harry. I'd think by now his subject wouldn't be so interesting, but the amount of questions that flooded my mind concerning him was starting to make me sick. Why did he have to be so mysterious? I gathered he and Zayn shared most of their classes, as they were in the same grade after all, and the moments I saw Harry in the hallway, he was by Zayn's side. Seeing them together made me want to vomit. I knew it was a selfish way to think, but I didn't want to share Harry with, of all people, Zayn Malik. Though he seemed glued to Zayn's side, through out the day Harry would smile up at me in passing, or wink at me as a way of reminding me that we had plans after school. I would grin back at him before scurrying off to my next class, doing my best to avoid conversation, as I wasn't very comfortable around Zayn. Finally school was over, and I rushed home quickly in hopes of ignoring Harry. I knew he would catch up to me, or show up on my doorstep as we had made plans to see each other tonight, but still I avoided him.

I made it home, and changed into a pair of floral shorts, and my Beach Boys sweat shirt, which I was sure he would mock me for. It was still super cold outside from the rain yesterday, but my mom had cranked up the heat before she left for work today, allowing my more light attire. When would he show up? Unless he had made plans with his friends again. I sat down on the living room couch, and turned on the television. The Mary Tyler Moore show blared back at me, and I turned it down to a minimum... to be honest I wasn't paying it much attention, but sitting in the silence as my mind raced was always awkward. He and Zayn had seemed inseparable today, and it looked as though Zayn had followed through on his threat to replace Dakota, as he was now by Rachel's side constantly. Had Harry replaced him? I didn't want Harry to be Zayn's right hand man! I didn't want him shoving people around, and being mean... I didn't want Zayn rubbing off on him. But what if I was looking at this wrong? What if Harry was already like that? Was it possible that I'd made myself emotionally vulnerable to a delinquent? Was Harry more of a felon than I had thought? I mean he carries a knife for god's sake, and not a pocketknife. One of those stick knives... one of those knives like James Dean's in Rebel Without A Cause. Did he go around looking for trouble? Had he heard that Zayn was the resident oppressor of our school, and planned to overthrow him and take his position? Was I being paranoid?

I jumped in shock, as there was a knock at the door. It's him. I know it. Suddenly I felt frightened to be alone with him. He'd been nothing but nice to me, but I was scared. He would be in my house with me, alone... unbothered by the outside world, and undisturbed. I wouldn't let a Malik past the threshold of my door, what made him any different? I walked down the hall slowly, making my way up to the door. Before I could turn the knob he knocked again, each strike at the wood of the door only made my heart pound harder in fright. I knew it was dramatic, but I couldn't help my fear. I opened the door slowly, cracking it just enough to peer out. "Hey." Harry said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dirty gray jeans. "Can I come in? It's cold." He said, leaning in with a smile. I opened the door mindlessly, nodding my head as he walked in past me. I need to relax. I closed the door, shutting out the frigid air quickly as he stood at my side. He towered over me, suddenly seeming as though he were two feet taller than I was. Though he seemed cheery, even his smile frightened me. I walked ahead of him, not saying a word as I lead him into the warm living room. "It smells good in hear." He mentioned looking around at what would be an unfamiliar room to him. I sniffed the air, not sensing a smell at all. It was probably our smell. I had noticed in the past that almost every family, or person seemed to omit an aroma of some kind... yet we all had grown so accustomed to our own scents that those had become untraceable. He smelled warm... that was if a temperature could actually hold a fragrance.

"My mum watches that." He said, looking at the television. I looked back up at the show, shrugging passively. I'd maybe seen it once or twice before, but wasn't familiar enough with it to make any form of conversation concerning plot and characters. "So why are you ignoring me?" He asked, sitting down on the couch beside me. I flinched at his attention to detail, his detection of my fright. My eyes fell on his left arm, now more exposed now as he was wearing a short-sleeved white t-shirt. This was the first time I'd seen him wear short sleeves, as the weather didn't permit that fashion much lately. He had more than one tattoo... several actually. "You're still ignoring me." He informed, looking back at me in aggravation. His shadowing green eyes attempted passage into mine, but I avoided the contact. "You seemed perfectly fine yesterday, but you're giving me the cold shoulder now." He said directly. I was a bit annoyed by his bluntness, but mostly because he was right. I bit the inside of my cheek, as my eyes traced down along his tattooed arm. What did they mean? What was their purpose? I knew it was cowardly of me, but I stood, walking toward the kitchen as a means of escaping his directed questions. "Do you want something?" I asked, pretending to occupy myself. I knew this wouldn't work. He seemed too driven to cave in and just change the subject as I had done. "I want you to answer my fucking question." He snapped rudely. My head jerked up, and I stared back into his irritated eyes. "I'm not stupid." He blurted in exacerbated disdain. I turned my back on him, too angry at his stark words to pay him any attention. Now he's picking a fight with me in my own house! Maybe I was being frustrating and unapproachable, but he was being a jerk. "I just don't want to talk about it." I murmured, crossing my arms as the compiled questions and feelings fought for dominance in my mind. I was growing emotional, which was bad. I shouldn't have allowed him to get to me in the first place. I listened as he stood; his feet clunked against the carpet until he was in the kitchen. "Look if I didn't give a shit about you, I'd already be out the door." He griped, edging himself closer to me as I kept my face away from his. "Because you're acting like such a little bitch right now, and it's really... you have no idea how infuriated it makes me." He explained, trying to keep his cool. I looked back at him, frowning in annoyance. Was he preaching at me? I didn't exactly need him telling me how to act. "You don't even know me Harry." I pointed out. My temper was already getting the best of me. How dare he come into my house and call me a bitch? He looked down at me; his eyebrows grew together in seriousness. He was already trying to defuse my forthcoming tantrum. "And I won't if you keep ignoring me." He argued. His features softened a bit as those words sunk in. "Come on?" He pleaded, reaching out to take my hand in his, but I pulled away, crossing my arms in front of my chest. "You were the first person I met here. Please don't be the first person I alienate?" He implored. His eyes searched mine, trying to dig through the stubbornness I had possessed, which was now slipping away.