Eva's POV
I pull my hair up into a ponytail before I knock on Harry's door.
206
The little plaque on the door reads. I wait a minute before Harry swings the door open.
I can't help but notice his tattoos peaking out of his black t-shirt. He smiles, dimples popping, before he ushers me inside.
I look around the dainty, familiar apartment. Lux's toys are scattered all over the wooden floor and dishes are piled high in the sink. Things never change around here.
"Stella is asleep so we won't be interrupted," He tells me as he walks over to me. "Sorry about the mess." He flushes.
I smile back at him and nod.
He lowly chuckles before leading me to an unfamiliar part of the apartment,
his room. I've never been in there before.
"My laptops in here," He says, loud enough for only me to hear.
"Ok that's fine," I whisper careful not to wake Stella up in the room across.
His room is different from the entire house. It's neat and nothing is on the carpet. Which shocks me, because Harry's the messy type. His bed is made. In the corner he has a desk with his laptop on top and a rolling chair. the walls are a nice shade of navy blue and are completely bare. One frame alone sits on his nightstand. This is what intrigues me the most. One single picture in the entire room.
"I'll be right back," He tells me cooly before exiting the room. I sit down on the edge of his bed and twidle my thumbs. Who's the woman in the picture? Curiousity bubbles inside me. I walk over to his nightstand and pick up the small glass frame.
A middle-aged women smiles in the photograph. Her eyes match the emerald shade of Harry's but are more warm and kind, her black hair cascades around her face in loose waves. There's no doubt about it, she's beautiful.
She also looks a lot like Harry. Is this Harry's mother? He's never mentioned anything about her now that I think about it.
"What are you doing." Harry's voice rumbles by the door. The object slips from my grasp and shatters on the floor, my breath hitches in my throat and my pulse quickens. I turn to face him and his demeanor has changed. His eyes are dark, and no longer hold that glint of light and humor, his lips are set in a line, fists at side.
"Jesus you scared me," I quietly say. "Sorry about the frame.. I can buy a new one if you want."
He doesn't speak but the longer the silence drags on the more anger is radiating off of him. He kneels down on the floor and examines the pieces, still dead silent. He pricks his finger on a sharp piece of glass, crimson oozes out of his thumb.
"I really am sorry-" he cuts me off.
"Forget it." He rubs his temples with his fingers before he exhales and stands back up, sitting at the desk.
___________
I finally decide to lay down on Harry's bed after sitting up for like an hour. I stare at him while laying on my left side in fetus position, hands under the pillow.
His long, narrow fingers take up most of the keyboard and I find myself mesmerized by them. They move at a fast pace typing whatever it is he's looking for.
I haven't dared to speak after the little incident. It was a scary change to see Harry angry for the first time. I've never given him a reason to be. He looked like as if he was going to explode any second. That's why his silence was scarier.
This is a comfortable silence now, and he seems to have cooled down, but I still won't ask why he acted like that.
I see him booking a hotel in Atlanta, a Sheraton I believe.
"Do you need any help?" I ask, My voice sounds small and weak. I don't even recognize it.
"No, it's easy, booking the hotels." He gives me a reassuring nod.
I look at Harry's broad slumped shoulders, his head dipped down, and his large hand clicking on the mouse. His hair is a disarray of curls pushed back. The dim lights casts his shadow on the wall. I silently yawn. My eyes become heavier and heavier by the second until I finally give up and close them.
