The Bad Boy

Chapter 151

Harry's P.O.V.

 After I leave Stephanie, I walk a few blocks, and then stop to catch my breath. Now that I've talked to her it's like all this weight has been lifted off me. Once I'm back to breathing normally, I walk back to the hotel to find Gemma sprawled out on the couch, watching a vampire show marathon.

"So how'd it go with Stephanie?" She asks, not turning away from the TV.

"Good." I answer.

"Good, how?" Gemma asks, finally turning to look at me.

"Good none of your business, that's how." I snap.

"Well someone's a little sassafrass this afternoon." Gemma rolls her eyes. "So are you ready to go out?"

"Go out where?" I ask, walking to the sink and filling a glass with water.

I take a sip right as she says "To see the Statue of Liberty, duh!" and I nearly choke on my water.

"Are you out of your mind?" I ask.

"Not that I know of. What's so wrong about wanting to see the Statue of Liberty while we're in New York?" She replies.

I sigh. "Nothing I guess...Are you serious about this? Do you really think getting on a ferry in your condition is a good idea?"

"I think it's a fine idea...now give me a second to get dressed and we can go." She hops up from the couch and heads to the bedroom, calling over her shoulder, "I just have to put on my UK flag t-shirt."

"HAHA...wait don't actually do that!" I call after her but she's already shut the door.

She reemerges fifteen minutes, dressed in a think striped black and white dress and white Adidas sneakers. 

"Alright... let's get this show on the road!" She cheers, grabbing her ridiculously huge black sunglasses and a bottle of water.

"I can't believe I'm taking you to see the f****** Statue of Liberty." I sigh, following her out the door.

Stephanie's P.O.V.

For the rest of the day after I returns to the office, the hands on the clock seem to move at a turtle's pace. I finish off my day by reading a manuscript that appears to have been written by a 12 year old fan girl. I thought somebody would have had to sort through these before they got to me but apparently not since this was still in the mix. Finally, the hands on the clock hit the time I've been waiting all day for and I can go home.

The usual receptionist is back in her regular spot as I walk out the door of my office.

"Has Miles already left?" I ask her, leaning on the desk.

"He clocked out an hour after he got back from lunch. Said he wasn't feeling well...I think it's just his time of the month." She shrugs.

"He's been acting really weird lately...I'm staying at his place for awhile and I can't shake the feeling that something's off." I admit.

"Oooh...staying at his place, are you?" She wiggles her eyebrows.

I shake my head. "I have a boyfriend, and it's not Miles."

She sighs, like she's disappointed. "Oh, I was hoping for a little office romance."

"Will you tell me if you find anything out?" I ask.

"Sure." She nods. "Have a nice evening."

"You too." I say and head to the elevators.

When I get to Miles' apartment, the door is unlocked. I go in to see him sitting on the couch watching TV in a white tank top, and black sweatpants, holding a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.

"Miles?" I ask, stepping in and closing the door behind me.

"Stephanie! Just the girl I've been waiting for!" Miles leaps up from the couch and almost falls over. He's had more than that one beer in his hand.

"Miles? Why are you drunk?" I ask, clearly not at my most articulate.

"I'm glad you're here because I've got something to tell you...and YOU'RE NOT gonna like it." He stumbles off down the hallway and returns a moment later, my duffle bag in his hand.

"Miles what are you doing?" I ask as he staggers towards me.

"It's not what I'm doing that matters, it's what you're gonna do right now that makes all the difference." He holds out my bag. "You, Stephanie, my dear, need to leave."

 I take the bag, too shocked to respond. "Are you serious? Do you even know what you're saying right now?"

"I know exactly what I'm saying...now get out." Miles gives me one last look before swaying over to the couch and cranking up the volume so loud on the cartoon he's watching that I can't hear myself think.

Suddenly my legs start thinking on their own and they carry me out the door, and then my arms join the party that left out my brain by slamming the door closed so hard that it rattles the frame.

I can't believe he kicked me out...