Ephemeral (Harry Osborn)

Chapter 6

I apologize for the extremely long wait. Thank you if you continue to read my works even though I suck at updating.

~Sage's POV~

It had been a week since I saw Harry. 

He called and left a voicemail everyday. He even sent a handwritten letter.

I hadn't opened or listened to anything.

Something inside of me couldn't face him after I found out that he had read my personal file.

I didn't know what was in there but I assumed it was basic information. Where I lived, where I grew up, my family.

My family.

It had been years since they passed but thinking about them still pressed on a tender wound in my heart.

A shiver raced up my spine and I blinked back tears, forcing the thought of my family away from my mind.

And now Harry  knew everything about them and how they died. And I couldn't help but feel hurt.

If he had asked I would have told him.

But he didn't ask.

Instead, he went behind my back and read private information about me when he could have just asked me.

Just then, my phone rang.

Speak of the devil, I thought as I glanced at the caller I.D.

It was Harry.

The fresh thought of his actions was enough for me to turn my phone off and shove it in my camera bag.

I needed to get out.  

Grabbing my camera bag and shoving my feet in my shoes, I headed downtown.

I had finished my story on Harry and his new plans for Oscorp and it needed to be turned in.

I knew Bernie wasn't going to be happy that I hadn't followed his guidelines but I had gone against his word before.

Before I knew it, I was at the office building that Bernie shared with a man named Mr. Jameson.

It was a generic brick building and the inside was nothing special either.

The carpet had plenty of coffee stains and the desks were old and rickety. 

Employees shouted across the room at each other and light-hearted banter was exchanged at the water cooler.

I skipped my way through the building to Bernie's office and entered without knocking.

"Sage! How's the Oscorp story coming along?" He greeted me.

His voice was loud and his face was flushed, as usual.

Slinging myself down into one of the chairs in front of his desk, I kicked my feet up and sifted through my camera bag.

"Finished," I said, "But you might not like it."

Bernie scoffed, "Nonsense, hot cakes. I always like your work."