“I will drive.” Harry demands, snatching the keys out of my hands and climbing into the driver’s seat of my car. I roll my eyes at his obnoxious behaviour and slide into the passenger seat. I can tell he’s still mad at me and that he really doesn’t want to tell me what’s going on. But it’s too bad, he has no choice really.
“We are going back to my apartment.” He tells me, pressing hard on the gas making my tyres screech against the tar roads. I really shouldn’t have let him drive…
“Why?”
“Because I said so.” He bites and I can see his fists turning white around the steering wheel. He is definitely still mad at me, I wonder how long this is going to last.
Instead of retaliating back at him and yelling at him for snapping at me. I keep quiet, it’s my fault that I am in this situation right now and I’m sure I would get mad at him if he did the same thing. I know his anger is no excuse for snapping at me, but I will let it slide. I don’t want to say anymore that will make him even madder.
Harry’s apartment is not far and it makes sense considering the café he hangs out at is only just around the corner. He slowly pulls up a dirt, rocky driveway with patches of dead grass growing through. My eyes travel down the short driveway and up the brown polished steps when the whole house comes into view.
All I can say, is the driveway is a complete miss-interpretation of the rest of the house. The house is modern, with a beautiful double brown door sitting just near the exit of the stairs.
“Come on.” Harry orders and I hadn’t even realised he was already out of the car. I jump out the car quickly and shut the door lightly behind me, while Harry slams his. I roll my eyes at him and shoot him a death glare, if he breaks my car he is most definitely paying for the repairs.
I follow Harry step by step up the brown wooden stairs, making the way into his apartment after he unlocks 2 locks securely on the front door. Why does he need so much security? I’m starting to think he’s a bit paranoid…
My eyes widen when we enter his apartment, it’s small but definitely big enough for Harry. The lounge room is the first room on the side, with the kitchen opposite to it. There’s a hallway around the corner and a door that leads into –I’m guessing- Harry’s bedroom towards the end of the living room. The colours are dark, but there is a cool, calm feeling that floats around his room.
The loud click of keys snaps me out of my trance as Harry chucks his keys and my car keys on his kitchen table. I watch him carefully as he sways over to the living room and flops himself down on the edge of the couch. I feel like I am walking on egg shells. He’s pissed off and any little thing that I do could set him off to be even angrier.
“You can sit.” He notices my awkward stance, a few metres away from the front door. I nod in response slowly, yet really awkwardly walking over to the opposite couch he is sitting on. The smell of mint and cologne swarms around my nose as it escapes the cushions when I plop down on them.
“Well first of all, I am still fucking pissed at you.” He sighs, running his hand through his hair. A trait I have noticed he does when he’s stressed, angry or confused a little.
“I figured.” I sigh, meeting his piercing intense gaze. If looks could kill, I probably would have died 10 times over.
“I don’t understand why the fuck you would follow me. You could have got yourself killed Harmony.” He growls, but the tone is more worried than anger. Worried for my safety.
Killed?
What does he mean killed? I mean, I didn’t think whatever going on was this serious. I think I might have underestimated the ability of these men or what they actually do. My eyes light up in horror and I think Harry notices because he moves off his couch and right next to me.
“Killed?” I fumble for the words my mind rushing to a thousand places. I didn’t realise that I put myself in such a risk. If I could have been killed? What will happen to me if I’m just friends with harry… or Zayn?
“Well not killed, not if I had any say in that.” He tries to reassure me, but it doesn’t really work. Everything he says is blunt and honest, I at least thought he would have spared my feeling of safety. Which has completely vanished now.
“I don’t want you to be scared of me Harmony...” he mumbles. Clearly referring to the night I saw him kill someone. Well not kill him, but apparently have put him in a coma.
“I’m not scared of you.” I answer honestly, my voice coming out strong just like I wanted. I’m not scared of Harry. I might be scared of what he’s capable of or what he can do. But never will I be scared of him.
“There’s a lot to tell you…” He mumbles again.
“I have time.” I say with a slight smile starting to creep onto my cheeks. I want to reassure him that whatever he has to say I want to hear and I am definitely not going to judge him on it.
“I don’t know if I should be telling you all this, and I don’t want you to get involved in any of it. But I’m pretty sure I have no choice in telling you anymore.” He continues.
As much as I don’t want to get involved, I want to know everything. I’m not really involved if he tells me about it am I? What could possibly happen if he told me about this group of people and who the hell boss is and why he orders them around? I nod my head in response, encouraging him to continue to talk.
“Simplest way to put it is I work for a man called boss.” Well I kind of knew that already, hence why when boss tells him to do something he does it.
“And so does everyone else you sort of met today.” He admits, his eyes constantly staying on me, studying my expression every moment. Seeing how I react to the information he is telling me.
“Actually, before I fully explain I don’t want you to think of me differently...” He mumbles and I look at him surprised. Our knees are brushing and our bodies are close. Why does he think I will think of him differently? I mean we all have things we do in life to survive and we all have our own dark secrets.
“I’m not going to think of you differently Harry.” I tell him, almost reassure him in a serious tone.
“I wouldn’t speak so soon.” He replies in a monotone voice. Whatever he is about to tell me, I can see his not proud of it. The way he is putting himself down and the way he is introducing the information to me. I know whatever is about to come isn’t going to be good information. But it’s going to be information I’m going to need to help him on. And quite frankly I am happy to do so.
“As you know from earlier my parents are divorced... so when I was 12 I hated them. Resented them, so that’s when I got into the wrong crowd. I know what you’re thinking, he was 12 how could he blend into the wrong crowd? But somehow I did, and by the time I was 15 I moved out of home and was helped by a man we call boss.”
He answered my question in his first confession straight away. How did a 12 year old little, innocent boy get mixed with the wrong crowd. If his parents didn’t get divorced and he didn’t go through the stage of ‘rebel.’ He wouldn’t be here right now, in the position with this boss man.
All I can take from this first part of this information is that Harry’s parents’ divorce made him go with the wrong group and by the time he was 15 he left home and boss took him in. My curiosity is swarming so I make sure I listen to harry intently, catching every single word, every single detail of the life he is about to share with me.
(Writers block sucks.... sorry guys! Love you all, thanks for reading!)
