Which Direction? {A Frat Boy Harry Fanfiction}

Chapter 8

By the time I got back to my dorm room, my feet were aching, and I was just itching to get out of these wet clothes. I turned on the light to the small room, of course Riley wasn't here. She was probably still drunk off her ass at the party. I sighed. I stripped out of the heavy clothes, and threw on a big t-shirt and some sweats. I pulled my hair into a messy top knot. 

Knock, knock, knock!

I looked up at the door. It's probably Riley, finally finding her way back home. I threw open the door to find Harry standing and staring at his toes. 

"Harry-" 

"You left your phone," he said holding a smart phone with a sparkly pink rhinestone case. I looked up at his face, flushed and out of breath as if he ran here.

"That's not mine," I said staring at the thing, "Do I really look like the type of person who would have that kind of phone?" It was true, I was no where near a girly-girl. I knew how to dress up on occasion, but no way in hell I would have a sparkly pink phone. 

"Oh um-I guess not. I just found it on the seat so I assumed-" he stuttered bringing back into his pocket.

"Yeah I know what you thought," I snapped rolling my eyes, "It's probably just from one of the skanks you take back to your place every night." 

"What?" he asked taken back. 

"I said it's probably-" 

"I heard you," he said roughly. I stared up at him, surprised I got this sort of reaction out of him. Yeah I've only known him for what a few hours? But I knew his type, everyone knew his type. "I'm not like that." 

"Mhmm," I said crossing my arms in front of me, "They're always like that." 

"What is that supposed to me?" he stepped towards me entering my room. 

"No importa," I scoffed as I watched him survery my room. I was a little embarrassed actually that it's probably nothing compared to where he probably lives. I invision him living in a giant room with all the space and privleges he wants. 

"Why do you always do that?" he asked.

"What?" 

"You always suddenly start speaking spanish or something like that." 

"I'm used to it," I mumbled, "And you don't know what I'm like. You barely even know me." That shut him up. He walked around my small room before landing on my bed and taking a seat. 

"How'd you even know this was my room?" I asked putting my hands on my hips. He obviously wasn't leaving anytime soon. 

"I asked some girls down the hall," he smirked, "I have connections in this dorm." 

"Of course you do. Like I said. Skanks. You've probably had sex with every girl in this building," I spoke quickly, my voice elevating. 

"Not you," he shrugged. I couldn't tell the emotion behind his smile. Probably sarcasm. I rolled my eyes in utter disgust.

"See I know your type." 

"I'm sorry. That came out weird. I'm really not like that. Yes, I like to have fun. But I mean no harm by it," he said rubbing his hands together in front of him. 

"They never do," my voice barely in a whisper.

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I rubbed my eyes a few times, not sure if I'm seeing clearly. I watch my dad take his rough callused hand and rub it up and down her body. She's caked in layers on layers of makeup, dressed like a whore in heels. 

I can hear my dad mumbling words in Spanish, dirty words. Their kiss connected by barely their lips, but their bodies connected by more. His words become clearer and clearer as I inch closer to the couch. I can make out the words he's saying to her, the words he should be saying to my mom. 

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"Just believe me Harry. I know your type and I don't want to get involved with you," I said sitting down on Riley's bed hoping we aren't about to have a fucking heart to heart. 

"Get involved with me? You were thinking about getting involved with me?" his smile creeps up again. His smile makes me gag but at the same time not. No one can deny a smile like his.

"That's not what I meant. Why are you even still here?! Get out of my room. I don't even know you for fucks sake," I groan.

"Geez," he says staying seated, "There's no need to get so angry for." Now I was really starting to get annoyed. The way he thinks he has this effect over me. The way he thinks that I'm just saying that, and that I actually want him to stay. Like I actually want his company. But maybe I actually do.