Sex Lessons [h.s// fanfic]

Chapter 58- Pink Eyes

After school ended I exchanged numbers with Siege and promised to text her later upon departure. It wasn't up until then that Harry reappeared into my thoughts, but for the sake of being safe and not being distracted on the road, I drowned him out momentarily with "Treasure," by Bruno Mars on full blast. I was on my bed, my feet kicked up and crossed in the air as I lay on my stomach aimlessly trying to get done homework that wouldn't even be due until next week. I had the urge to text Harry a couple of times but ignored it, and tossed my phone across the room and watched it as it landed into a pile of clothes I've tossed on the floor. I've never done that before, my clothes were always in hangers, or in the hamper, but I've been getting so lazy lately, and I'm the only one to blame. Harry's actually quite neat.

I sat up with a long, tired sigh and tapped my fingers against the plush duvet with my red chipped fingers. Maybe I'l paint them...

I hate that I'm like this. A lost tired puppy without him. Was I like this before I met him? Officially? 

Yes.

I would spend most of my afternoon reading novels, and my nights picking off lint on my pillows. I would then jot down uninteresting events in my far too worn out diary and sign my name off at the end with a simple, "love Stella." Nothing extravagant. Ever.

Then Harry came and suddenly swept me off my feet, and now that I'm back down on the floor, I'm useless again. I've been underwater for too long and I need to breathe. This is what I'm doing, I'm breathing, my hair is still damp and wet from the water, but I'm breathing. Now the next step is actually getting out of the water.

But I can't. I don't want too. 

Maybe this was a sign, my putting Niall's name in the poem was a sign, maybe I do really love Niall, maybe he's been who I was supposed to be with, not Harry.

So won't my heart agree with me?

H a r r y

"Want some chicken son?" Fuck?

"Fuck you," I tapped my fingers against the wood obnoxiously, just to get under his fucking skin. I checked my phone again. Just 30 minutes and I have to pick up Lux, just a little more time until I  get to use  the proper excuse to get the fuck out of here.

We were all sat at the dinner table as Des' shitty shack. Turns how he turned the whole place upside down. I couldn't even recognise what I was walking into with the white walls, and cream coloured couches and the white circular coffee table made out of marble. What the hell is even going on? Whatever game Des is playing, he's good. He's fucking good and it's sickening.

I can't believe I'm even here, the bruises around his fat neck should be a reminder that I will never accept being here with him. He isn't fucking Barney, he needs to stop acting like we're some big happy gay ass family. Fuck.

Clifford watched me carefully as he cut into the meat and brought it into his mouth. I watched every move he made, my jaw smacking on gum, my back slouched in the plush chair. Nothing, nothing, could be more uncomfortable as this. Nothing.

"It's good, you should try it." Des chimed.

"I don't want your shit, do you know what no means?"

"Just please," he rested his fork against the metal plate and stared ahead for a moment. "please, give me a break,"

I laughed uproariously. "Break? You've got to fucking kidding me," 

"I'm not." He murmured looking over to a quiet Clifford.

"I'm just trying to change. I want us to be back to what we were. We actually had a bond, remember?"

"I also remember how you gave me a black eye before picture day, and ripped up my picture when I brought it to you." My chest tightened momentarily as I dared to make eye contact with the man I've came to hate. I hate him, I fucking hate him. I've never hated someone so much it my entire goddamn life and I hate alot of people. Maybe I do need church...