I expect the car ride over to the church to be extremely awkward considering what’s just happened but everything feels completely normal. Harry turns on the radio, a smooth, indie song giving the backdrop to our drive. The interior of the corvette is all black, my dress standing out against the dark leather upon where I sit. It drives standard, Harry not surprisingly an expert at changing gears without a hitch.
“So…is this your car?” I ask.
“I wish. No, I rented it for the day,” Harry responds, shifting to stop at a red light. He turns to look at me, one hand on the stick and the other on the wheel. Neither of us can seem to look away until a viscous honking noise sounds from behind us. I glance forward to see that the light’s now green.
“Oops,” Harry mumbles with a smug grin, guiding the car through the intersection.
I revert back to our conversation. “This is a pretty nice car for a rental.”
“It probably didn’t always look like this. My guess is that one too many couples had a little fun in the backseat and they had to reupholster it.”
I crinkle my nose in disgust. “Ew. Topic change please.”
He laughs, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Alright. What would you like to talk about, Alexa?”
“I don’t know,” I struggle, looking out the window for some sort of naturalistic inspiration. “I’ve always kind of wondered what you write in that hideous looking journal of yours.”
“Heyyy,” he drawls, “It’s not hideous. And I can’t tell you.”
“Why not? We tell each other everything else,” I practically whine, fiddling with the cuffs of Harry’s jacket that hang loosely past my palms.
Harry heaves a deep sigh as he makes a right turn. “My journal’s private.”
“That’s creepy.”
“Uh, how’s that?!” he asks incredulously, green eyes darting between me and the road.
“What if you’re secretly plotting murder and writing down all the details?” I propose as a joke, elbow leaning against the window.
He snorts, “Well, I’d be a pretty shit murderer, then. No smart criminal leaves that much evidence.”
“So you’ve thought about it?” I tease.
His expression turns frustrated, eyebrows and mouth sloping downwards. “Dammit, Alexa. My journal’s where I write about the victims I find.”
This shuts me up indefinitely. I open and close my mouth like a fish out of water but fail to come up with something intelligent or even satisfactory in response to what Harry’s just admitted. I settle for a weak apology.
“I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t-”
“No, don’t apologize,” he cuts in, shaking his head slowly. We’re stopped at a red light again so he turns to me, teeth biting dangerously hard into his lower lip. “I just don’t want to involve you more than I already have.”
I scowl. “Don’t be ridiculous. Involvement is a choice. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but my life’s taken a pretty positive turn because of you.”
Harry appears to be extremely flustered because he turns his attention back to the road, cheeks flushed. He taps the steering wheel thoughtfully, purposely in time with the quiet background music.
“I just…” he starts and I can tell he’s scrambling for words. “I don’t want to be the reason you get hurt…or something.”
“What do you mean?” I frown.
YOU ARE READING
Heroism (h.s.)
Fanfiction"A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." - Joseph Churchill. After a frightening incident on her way home from work, Alexa Mackie is left with more questions than answers. A mysterious stranger in black sa...
