blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 7

The drive to the little shop proves to be one filled with anxiety. An anxiety that is just now settling in. The palms of my hands are sweating upon the steering wheel and I have to wipe my hands numerous times on my jeans to dry them.

A million questions swarm my head as I pull into the drive way. As I glance around, I notice that there is only one other car aside from mine. And it's not Harry's black truck.

I figure he's just running late and make my way inside to choose a seat. Subconsciously, I check my phone to see if he has texted me and realize that I don't have his number. This day just gets better and better. I walk to the front counter and order, slightly irritated with his tardiness. I consider ordering for Harry, but decide against it as I'm not sure when he'll arrive. Also, I know very little about his tastes.

After placing my order, it is out in less than five minutes and I relish in the taste of my muffin.

It is now a little past nine and I have ordered and finished my breakfast. The waitress looks confused as to why I am still sitting here an hour later doing nothing. I inform her about my "date" at eight and realization dawns on her before she flashes a look of sympathy. Before I can embarrass myself anymore, I leave the waiter a hefty tip and gather my belongings.

I knew I shouldn't have come. He was probably just playing me. Alex did say that he was out with some other girl earlier this week.

How could I be so stupid?

My mind is coming up with a million and one different scenarios and I am surprised by how slow I'm moving.

I am out of the door of the little shop when I see Harry in his black truck pulling up. He looks relaxed; unfazed by his lack of punctuality.

Climbing out of the truck, my mind is blinded by his look.

His chocolate curls are somewhat jelled in the front and are being pushed back by a black bandana. He is wearing his usual dark, black skinny jeans and matching black t-shirt, but something about the way he has coupled it with a leather jacket makes him seem more guarded.

Sexy?

I am sidetracked by my vulgar subconscious, but bounce back seemingly unaffected. His green eyes pour into mine as his black combat boots touch the ground. In his hand, I spot a cigarette and am at first disgusted.

As I focus in on the vile object, I notice the way he expertly places it between his lips, blows out a puff of smoke, and throws it to the ground, crushing it. I've never been so enamored with the cancer-bringing object in my life. His dark tattoos are peeking out from the collar of his shirt, but they are barely visible.

"Blue," he greets me with what appears to be my new nickname and smiles.

How is he so casual about not making it on time?

"Where have you been? I've been waiting here for an hour," I say, trying to muster up the anger I felt towards him just seconds ago.

"Yea, sorry, about that,"

"I got caught up with some personal shit," he states, distant. His eyes show a hint of despair for a fraction of a second, before tranquility replaces the emotion.

"Weren't you the one adamant about being on time?" I question, feeling the anger from earlier settling in.

Breathing out a breath of irritation, he mutters a small 'sorry' that is so quiet I have to ask him to repeat.

"Sorry," he snaps. "Don't expect for me to say that again."

Taken back by his swift switch in mood, I keep quiet not wanting for him to get angry again. I'm a bit frightened by the roughness of his voice. He climbs back in his car and I figure that he is not up to the date anymore. Great.

I make my way back to my car, pulling out the car keys, before I hear him call my name.

"Where are you going? Get inside," he asserts, smiling.

Wasn't he just angry less than a second ago?

"But my car," I breathe perplexed, looking back at the shiny black vehicle.

"It doesn't matter. We'll be back for it. Come on!"

"One second, please,"

"I'll just send Alex a quick text, asking for him to come pick it up."

Your car is parked in the parking lot of One Shot Coffee. Have Kate drive you here to pick it up. The keys are under the hood. Sorry, for the inconvenience, the text reads.

No less than a minute later I receive a text message saying they were heading that way anyways to pick up some more milk. Smiling, I head towards the black truck.

I make my way to the passenger seat and am embarrassed when he has to come over to the passenger seat and help me into his massive truck for the second time. The first being the night after the party.

After I am fastened in he makes his way to the driver side and jumps into the truck with minimal effort. "So, where do you want to go? I'm assuming you already ate breakfast since you were up there for an hour or so," he reports guiltily as he pulls out of the shop.

"It doesn't matter. I can still eat," I say, nonchalantly and he looks at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that you're so tiny," he expresses, smiling. His smile is huge as he finds the situation hilarious, and I can't help but to smile at how beautiful he looks.

"It's a shame he's not into guys," my subconscious reminds me.

Rolling my eyes, I listen just in time for his next question.

"What are you? Five foot three?" he prompts.

"Actually, I am five foot five!"

Throwing his head back laughing he breathes, "That's adorable."

I find myself blushing at his word. Then out of nowhere, I feel his hand lightly ghost mine.

What is he doing?

As quick as it appears his touch is shocked away from me as he looks at me with wide eyes.

The look in his eyes swiftly goes from surprise to a look of disgust before his attention is refocused on the road ahead.

I keep my mouth shut afraid to comment on it and just lull my mind into believing that he actually likes me.