Broken Things

Chapter 11

HPOV:

I woke up to my phone ringing from the floor. I almost forgot where I was until roses filled my nose. I reached  over the edge of the bed and grabbed my phone. I looked over to see if it had bothered Stevie but the bed was already empty. I answered groggily. It was Paul.

"They got your girl's picture, ya know," he said in a low tone.

"Yeah, I know. Liam sent me the picture yesterday," I said, running my fingers through my hair as I sat up.

"Is she alright?"

"Yeah, we talked about it I guess." I climbed out of bed and walked over to the windows that lined the wall of her bedroom. Clouds covered the sky, casting different shades of grey over everything down below. I stretched an arm over my head and let out a groan.

"They aren't very enthused, Harry. You were supposed to keep a low key while you were here."

"Paul, it's not like I ran though the bloody park, screaming for everyone to look at me. We were just having a day out and then were basically attacked," I said, clenching my fist in my hair. Frustration started seeping through my voice.

"Hey I know that, Harry but that's just one more thing they have to deal with. You can't-."

"That they have to deal with?! Do you realize what I have to deal with? I have to protect her now. I have to make sure she doesn't get bombarded every time she goes to by fucking groceries or that she doesn't worry about all the rumors and hate! This is shit, Paul! I can't deal with that!"

My heartbeat was pulsing through my ears. Paul was silent for a minute as he waited for me to calm down.

"You know I hate it just as much as you do," he said softly, "I just know how much you care for her, Haz. You had a bloody panic attack over her on the first night you met her. I worry for her. I just don't want you to lose her."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I sat on the end of the bed and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees. I heard Paul clear his throat.

"Is that where you were last night?"

"Yes," I said in a low tone.

"Are you coming today?"

"I mean, I don't really have a choice."

He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Alright, Haz."

I hung up the phone and slid it into my back pocket. I bent down and grabbed my shirt off of the floor. I stepped into the hallway as I pulled it on. My eyes searched for Stevie. I came into the main room to find music I didn't recognize softly playing through the system. The smell of coffee lingered in the air. 

I found Stevie wrapped in a blanket as she sat on the window sill. Both of her hand were clutched around a steaming mug. She was looking out of the window and humming along to the music. 

She must have been up for a while because she was already dressed. She had on distressed skinny jeans with white Chuck Taylor's and a grey NYU crew neck. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun with a hint of make-up on her face. I walked over to her and sat across from her. Her eyes were sad, or tired. I couldn't really tell. She didn't look at me when I sat down. 

"It's cold today," she said softly, without taking her eyes off of the window.

"How long have you been up?"

"Since 9:30," she replied before taking a sip from her mug. It was 12:30 now, according to the clock on the wall. I was amazed I had slept that long. It had probably been the best sleep I had gotten in a long time.