Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 98 - Scarlett

ONLY THE EPILOGUE TO GO! SHIT.

                                                                     98.  

                                                             ●•Scarlett•●

“No, Gemma. For the thousandth time today: I cannot go to this damn dinner of yours. ‘M rather busy tonight, sorry,” he complained against the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder, whilst his eyes scanned over the papers on his hand. “Don’t care what you have to say. The speech is for him anyway.” There’s a brief pause during which he stood still on one of the steps, considering. Then: “Yeah. Fine. But in my flat, okay? I’ll buy a cake or something.”

His voice was the only one echoing in the empty street air; all the students gone for over an hour now. The movement of the cars had considerably ceased, too, and there weren’t many parked by the curb. Indeed, there were only two: one right in front of the university entry (which I assumed was his, but I could always be wrong), and the other across the street, just behind me, supporting my weight as I watched in silence.

He fumbled with his own limbs to keep a folder balanced underneath his arm, the papers firm in his hand, fighting the wind, and a phone safely tuck in its actual position. At a certain point, he tried to use one of his hands to reach for whatever it was inside his pocket, but ended up succeeding only when all the rest had gone to the floor. Cursing under his breath and nodding at what Gemma was saying, he bent down, managing somehow to make the arm of the guitar on his back (at least the case had a shape pretty much alike a guitar’s) hit his head.

I only pressed my lips together and dug my fingers deeper into the skin where they were tangled over my chest to keep myself from laughing, or moving closer to offer help. Because I was not sure I was ready yet, and the scene was simply endearing. But then, he himself had always been endearing.

The five-year-gap had only accentuated that, if anything, and I was still star struck by how much and yet how little he’d changed. His legs were wrapped by tight black jeans (not as tight as I recalled, though), a white v-neck T-shirt hidden underneath an also black leather jacket and a red scarf. His curls were longer, I assumed, but I couldn’t tell much by the way only its ends poked out of the black hat he had over his head.

His face was clearly shaved, the image of his knit eyebrows just as adorable as the one I had kept in mind. He seemed angry, hurried and confused all at once, his fingers fighting to grasp every sheet that threatened to escape with the wind, piling them all together and struggling even more to find the correct divider in his folder for them.

It took him about two full minutes to gather all of his stuff, but once it was done, he quickly cleared the dirt out of his clothes and stood up, actually holding his phone this time. And it was only when he started to walk down the stairs again that he saw me. And he froze.

The following seconds were awkward, to say the least.

Whatever he was talking to his sister faded up, his movements all halted. I couldn’t find the strength to move myself, having his gaze so intent on me after what seemed decades (or half of one, whatever). Cautiously, though, I dared a weak smile, not even trying to wave. I would probably end up slapping myself if I tried such a thing.

This had been such a bad idea. What was I even thinking? Maybe it wasn’t too late to turn around and get back into the car.

Except it was.

“Right- right, Gem. Gem? I gotta go now. See you two tomorrow, ‘kay? Tell Willy I said happy birthday,” he blinked a couple times more, still staring at me like a statue, the air growing thicker between us. “Love you too. Bye.”