Broken Defender

Chapter Eighteen ~ The Real Harry

Tuesday's school day was here and gone before I knew it. Rachel hadn't bothered me since yesterday's bathroom incident, and I hoped this was a sign that she had gotten the idea. I wasn't going to stay away from Harry, or his friend Zayn just because she had so kindly requested I do so. As much as she was capable of making me feel like absolute shit, as much as she did hold power over my emotions... she wouldnot control my actions. I wouldn't bend just because she didn't like what I was doing. After all, it really was none of her damned business what Harry and I did. He walked me home from school, as he had the day prior. My steps widened a touch as I attempted to match his long strides. He wasn't walking any faster than I was, yet I still felt the need to keep up with him... my hand, held firmly by his, was probably the biggest reason for this. "What will we do today eh?" Harry asked, swinging my hand in his as we made our way up my front steps. I retrieved the key from beneath our welcome mat, and unlocked the door, letting the both of us in. "Nothing." I said. The word relieved me, as I had almost no homework to do today. I would love just spending time with him, doing nothing. That would be perfect. "No homework?" He asked, voicing my thoughts as I dropped my bag on the breakfast table, pulling the headband out of my hair, and running my fingers through it. "None." I confirmed, smiling back as he did. "Let's go out then." He spoke, winking at me cutely. His palm grasped my elbow as he pulled me against him, kissing my lips tenderly. "I'll never get tired of that." I sighed, unable to hide the effect he had on me. He smiled as a reply. His dimples dug deeply into the curvatures of his cheeks. I couldn't resist lifting a hand, brushing my thumb across the indention of his left cheek and grinning as he did. His smile was contagious. "What are you doing love?" He asked, chuckling at the action. "I like your dimples." I exhaled in admittance, leaning in and kissing his bottom lip. He wrapped one arm around my waist, pulling me against him and kissing me deeper in return. "Where would we go?" I asked. My lips, still attached to his, muffled each word. He pulled away, pursing his lips to the right of his face. His eyebrows drew together in a curious manner. "Theater?" He asked, releasing his hand from my waist and allowing it to run through the loose brown ringlets of his hair. "I hear there's some horror flick out." Harry said, licking his lower lip in excitement. "You into it?" He questioned, pulling me up against him once more and pecking my nose. I giggled at the silly connection, arms wrapping around his neck as he hugged me. "Absolutely." I responded. "Just let me change."

I stepped away from Harry again, making my path down the hallway toward my room. "You look fine baby." He informed, following me. I couldn't help smiling at his use of the term of endearment. My pulse pattered as I turned back to face him, walking backwards down the hall to watch as he followed me. "This skirt is stupidly uncomfortable." I explained, opening my bedroom door. He met my side again, comfortably walking into my room and taking a seat on the edge of my bed. I scoffed at him, opening up the bottom drawer of my bureau and snatching up a pair of faded jeans. "I'm not changing in front of you Harry." I explained, reaching in and retrieving a pair of socks, quickly throwing them at him. The socks hit against his chest as he smirked back at me, laughing at the suggestion. Without a reply, he lied back on the edge of my bed, heaving an agitated sigh as I stood again, making my way into the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, locking it for reassurance, and stripping out of my skirt. I couldn't resist staring into the full-length mirror against the bathroom side of my door. My eyes racked over the skinny white flesh of my thighs, stained and blotted with freckles. I grimaced, reaching down and grabbing at the flesh, pinching it in observation as though it might suddenly become alluring... it wouldn't. What the hell did he see in me? I bit my lip as my eyes moved up my body slowly. I dropped my jeans to the floor, lifting up the fabric of my shirt as I examined my stomach, equally white as snow, and stained with freckles. Somehow I couldn't fight the memory of Rachel's words from yesterday. Each syllable had haunted my self-image ruthlessly as couldn't resist believing every word she said. "It's not like he's dating you because he thinks your pretty, because you're not." I recalled her snapping. "You're fucking ugly. He just wants to fuck you." I groaned, staring back at the sight before me. My shirt lifted just above my breasts. Of course that last part was bull... no guy would date me just to have sex with me. That would make no since... but why would he date me then? It still made no since at all. I'm so ugly. My hand traced up the flat of my stomach, pushing and pulling at the skin before finally brushing over the slightly curved rise where my ribcage met my breasts. There was hardly anything there. I was lucky to have cleavage. I'd only just started wearing a bra this summer as my mother finally thought I was ready. My thoughts were broken by Harry's voice, ears tuning to the sound as distance and the door that blocked us muttered it. I pulled my shirt back down, sticking one leg into my pants and listening closer. "-from the people of the town-" Was the only thing I could hear at first. He seemed to be singing dully. My ear pressed against the wood of the door as I struggled to pull my other leg into my pants. "-but every nigh-" I heard. His voice rasped slightly as if he were imitating someone. I zipped, and buttoned up my jeans, before staring back into the mirror.