𝑼𝒏𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏 ✔️

6.

Monroe wanted to finish the great gatsby today but her mind and eyes betrayed her as they usually did like when the sun blinded the eyes. She was on the last few pages but as she tried to read word after word her head started to pound, the feeling not so foreign as it just so happens in her chest. The words started to blur a bit like when tears burned your eyes and the letters on the pages deceived her as she thinks it's one thing when it turned out to be another.

She shut her book shut frustrated with the brain she was cursed with, ashamed that she could not even read the simplest of words and she was as clueless as the naive.

She decided to get ready for work and as she stepped out of her building she noticed the old Honda at the front and she shook her head and sighed as she saw the rose with thorns protecting himself from everyone, the one with green eyes that told a story, the one with all the stories inked on his skin standing amongst his car.

"Hi?" she said in more of a question then a greeting to him.

"Good morning, Monroe," he greeted and she smiled just so faintly and walked closer to him.

"What are you doing here?" she questioned immediately, standing in front of him, capturing small details of him so if it was the last time she would see him she would remember the way his dimples indented on both sides of his cheeks; how prominent they were clearly making his face more fascinating then it already was.

"Wanted to take you to work I have to see Jesse anyway," he replied and she nodded her head and thanked him quietly as she stepped into his car as he did the same. "Did you finish your book?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"No..." Monroe murmured, silently infuriated at the fact that he had to remind her of a simple task she could not complete.

"Well the last time I saw you reading it you were more than halfway done so I just assumed..."

"I just haven't had enough time to finish it," she lied. Another round of silence and she felt like she was slowly losing her mind so she reached for the volume button of the car but Harry gently slapped her hand away from it.

"Don't touch my stuff," he murmured and her eyes widened, amused that he held his car high as a prized possession.

"And why not?" She looked over at him and caught a glimpse of him looking at her before he turned away to focus on the road. "Because I don't like people touching my car."

"Ah, a man holds his car in high value do you not? isn't a car worth nothing more but a luxury?"

"My mum gave it to me when I was sixteen, haven't got rid of it since," he spoke quietly but his words were still firm as they always were when he spoke.

"Where's your mom now?" she asked suddenly curious.

"Shouldn't matter where she is, that's not the point," he cut her off short and she turned away and looked out the window. "I wanted to talk to you," he spoke again but her eyes remained at the window.

"We are talking," Monroe retorted. she could tell that he was rolling his eyes and chuckling quietly.

"I wanted to talk about us," he said again and she looked right at him, her eyes widened. She knew that there couldn't be an 'us' if that's what he was thinking. He didn't have a corrupt mind like she did, he didn't have the bruises that lightly tattered her body so delicately.

Or so she thought

"Before you jump to conclusions," he evoked her out of her thoughts. "I don't date so I didn't mean it in that way." She nodded her head, her mind telling her that she should be relieved, and that she wasn't bringing him into her problems but her heart, was telling her otherwise.