Reese

Chapter 38 - The Girl With The Red Tips

Harry's P.O.V

Listening to her stories, my eyes begin to droop. The girl with the red tips lay on my double bed, her body slowly relaxing as she succumbed to the  persuasive mattress that held her body so lovingly. The bandage on her forehead where the deep gash lay, indenting her skin.

I'm extremely tired, yet I don't want to sleep. I find her too interesting. The way her accent rounds off the words she says so slowly and luxuriously - unlike the English accent, which I think can sound rather harsh at times.

I'm not sure whether I like her yet, I find her interesting but... I don't know.  I seem to have mixed emotions over the feelings side of my interest in her. She's clever,  witty,  sly and has a way with words. She makes me feel empowered, or hold an enormous amount of respect for her.

I don't know why she does this to me. It must be what she's gone through recently. I couldn't believe what she was saying when she first told me.

It was like listening to someone's nightmare, except it wasn't created from their imagination. It was real.

F L A S H B A C K

"Come on, come and rest in here. You look absolutely knackered, love." I told her, holding open my hotel bedroom door after coming back from the interview the boys and I had to do.

"Are you sure?" She timidly asked, holding her head. My guess was she felt a little disorientated after flying through the heaviest doors I've ever seen and into a waiter who was carrying a tray full of food.

I smiled kindly, "Course, I'm free for the rest of the day anyway.  We can hang out! " I offered, shutting the door and slipping my shoes off.

She glared at me suspiciously.

...

"What?" I asked.

She shook her head and muttered something under her breath. "Is the reason you're being so nice because members of management and security want my background info before I stay too long? " She finally asked, standing at the side of the bed.

I frowned, "No, it's not. I genuinely feel that you need to rest." I say, almost in a monotone whilst the sense of the whole 'judging a book by its cover" feeling slips away from me. "I can see why you'd think that  though." I sigh,  shrugging my shoulders and grabbing two glasses.  "Drink?"

"Water please." She states. I turn around and find her completely flat out on my bed, her arm over her eyes whilst she breathes heavily.  Suddenly I am struck with worry as I wonder if she's crying, but eventually she takes her hands away, not looking any different to what she did about five minutes ago.

I take the glasses over to her, hand her one before I hop up onto my bed, resting my head on the pillow and letting out a satisfied sigh. There's a long silence before I begin to hear her humming to herself. I vaguely recognise it, but not enough to hum along too.

"So I'm guessing you want an explanation?" She questions, her eyes fixed onto the ceiling. Her fingers tapping on the top of the white duvet.

I shrugged, "Yeah I do, but I don't need it now if you don't want to tell me." I take a sip of the water, pausing whilst I feel it trickle down my throat and land in the pit of my stomach. I should've eaten more than just a banana today.

I stare at the wall in front of me, until movement in the corner of my eye forces me to look at it. It was her. She was no longer staring at the ceiling, she was looking at me. Her piercing blue eyes swapping from my left to my right eye as she searches my facial features for answers.