Teenage Dirtbag

Chapter 13

-Hazel-

It was the 8th class of the day, when I decided to use the class bathroom pass. I didn't need to go, I just had to fix my makeup.

I walked out of the classroom, and went to my locker. I needed to grab my hand mirror first.

I looked over to my left because I heard noises.

There stood Harry and Alex.

I snuck over, and hid behind a door.

"You better stop calling her, or I will break your phone," I heard Harry threaten.

"ha. I could care less about my phone. Truth is, Hazel is beautiful and she doesn't deserve some idiot like you. She loved me, more then she could love you. I've been her best friend for years, and you just stepped into her life. Face the facts, you are a nobody," Alex snapped back.

I heard a loud noise, and Harry started swearing.

I peeked through the door crack and watched it all.

Harry clenched his fist, and punched Alex right in the jaw. His hand was white, and throbbing afterwards. His deep blue veins stood out, making his hands look sickly.

Harry was wearing brown suede boots, along with black skinny jeans. He always wore the gold cross necklace, even when he slept. He was wearing a red flannel shirt too.

"Harry.." My voice could barely speak.

I was frightened by what had just happened.

I've never seen him punch anyone before, well at least not like that.

Harry spun around on his heel, facing me.

"Oh, I didn't see you there.."

"Yeah.." I looked down.

"Sorry you had to see that," He chuckled.

"To be honest, I don't really care that you punched him. You better hurry out of here though, before the principal comes. The security cameras don't work here anymore, so."

Harry pulled me close by the waist.

"Harry. Not in school. Or out of school. Or anywhere."

He grinned, showing his perfectly white smile.

"Can't you just leave this jailhouse now?" Harry begged.

"I can't. School is important to me and I don't want bad grades."

"You won't need school in your future," He smirked.

"Why?"

"Just follow me then."

I rolled my eyes and let him hold my hand.

Even though we are a "couple," I try not to act like it.

He pulled me outside again, and started walking.

"Harry, what happened to your car?" I questioned.

"I went home, changed into my good clothes, then Gemma dropped me off."

I nodded, and his fingers laced around mine.

His hands were abnormally soft, and very delicate. He must use lotion or something because my hands were as dry as sandpaper.

We walked into a nice old town in LA, where the clouds were big and puffy, with cheerful smiles everywhere.

Harry opened the door to this small building, and inside was a recording studio.