I'm Not Your Toy, Harry

Chapter 4

Harry was stacking books, as Jules spoke to a blonde woman on his right side. His back to the audience, which was chattering, loud and happy, Harry had never been more confused.

Sure, two or three girls had come up to him, and he had seen a few smartphones pop up, but there was no hysteria. No girls weeping or grabbing at his shirt. Am I dreaming? he thought, handing Sonia an unsigned copy of the book. 

"Harry, how out of touch are you? How have you not heard of Jules?" asked Sonia. She had noticed his befuddled expression.

"Um, well I was in Jamaica, and then I was on a film set where there were no phones allowed..." he said weakly. 

Sonia laughed. "Babe, the last book which was as big as this was Fifty Shades Of Grey. You're looking at a very reluctant star."

Harry looked over at Jules. She seemed tired (and hungover), but she was talking to every single reader like they were her best friend. "Oh man, I'm following you on Instagram right now," exclaimed Jules to a very excited teenager. "I wanna see your Italy photos!"

***

Two hours later, it was all over. Harry, Sonia and Jules sat around her desk, totally exhausted, as the Barnes & Noble staff swept away the remains of the confetti and posters the readers had left behind.

"Do you have plans for the day?" asked Jules, stretching out in a yawn. 

"Not really, no," said Harry. "When I'm not shooting or performing, there's a lot of free time. I need a hobby." He glanced down at his phone, suddenly remembering one thing he had forgotten. Angela.

"Actually, I do have to be somewhere," he said, grabbing his jacket. "I'll see you girls later? Let's get a drink at the pub or somethin'?"

"Yea, alright," they chimed in together.

Harry walked out the door, texting as he did.

I'm back. Come over? H

***

Don't do it, thought Angela, looking at her phone in her hand, where Harry's message was still blinking, unread. Her heart was hurting. Don't do it don't do it don't do it don't don't don't 

***

 Harry's phone beeped as he got into an Uber. 

I'll be there in 30 minutes.

***

The first night they had had sex, Harry had been amazing. 

They had reached his house in the cab, pulled into the driveway silently and parked. Angela's /heart was beating so loud she was pretty sure Harry could hear it. He opened the door for her, took her by the hand and opened the house's door. It was dark and empty and beautiful.

There, they had had a drink each. Harry was tipsy and slightly distracted, but after that one drink, he suddenly became very focused. 

"Come here," he said, his voice lower than she had ever heard it. Angela was standing on the side of the bar, and Harry was leaning against the dining room table. She walked over to him, feeling the silk of her dress sliding against her thighs. 

She stood in front of him, so close that she could count every freckle, every speck of colour in his eyes. She could see a small scar on the side of his neck, and the point at which his bottom lip was cracked dry. He smelled like a combination of soap, an oaky cologne, and sweat.

He put his hands on the sides of her thighs. They felt so large against her, she had to control a shudder. He slid his hands up and down the sides of her body, slowly, dragging the material as he went up, and down again as he went towards her knees.