Chapter 6

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HARRY'S POV

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Carter and I have just arrived at one of the largest houses I've ever seen. Fitting with the sheer enormity and condescension of the place, the guests are dry and cold towards me. Carter has already introduced me to a few of her friends. All pretty, all boring. I can't help but wonder where Ella is...

"Calliope!" Carter trills. "Oh, I haven't seen you since, when, last spring? How is Yale treating you?"

"Its so great to see you, Carter," the brunette with a 100-watt smile grins widely back at Carter, her eyes flicking over to me. "It's tough, but nothing I can't handle."

"Oh, how rude of me," Carter shakes her head. "This is my boyfriend, Harry. He lives in England."

I smile at Calliope and she smiles back, her eyes holding some emotion that I can't quite place.

"It's nice to meet you, Harry," her voice lilts. This situation is making me extremely uncomfortable.

"You'll have to excuse us, I just spotted...." Carter's voice fades away as she grabs my hand and we walk away from Calliope.

"She's always been so jealous of me," Carter huffs.

"She seemed alright," I offer.

"Don't." Carter shoots me a stern look. "She wanted you. Everyone here is so jealous! I wish we could go back to England."

"A break is nice," I don't know why, but I can't make bring myself to verbally agree with her, even if I agree that America isn't my cup of tea.

"The only good thing about coming back here is being with you. My family is so fucking awful. I'm sorry I'm related to them."

"They're fine...." I'm not exactly sure what to say. There isn't a single part of me that desires to comfort her. I do, however, feel a tinge of guilt and....regret.

Just then I catch a glimpse of brilliant emerald out of the corner of my eye. I turn quickly to find Ella in a sheer, flowing, floor-length gown entering the ballroom Carter and I are in. She is angled away from me and I can't see her face, but I would know that porcelain skin, chestnut hair, and fragile frame anywhere. Her hair is pin straight and down to the middle of her back, a startling contrast to Carter's elegant up do. My eyes cant leave her back, a good ten feet away from me.

"What are you looking at?" Carter sounds annoyed. "Oh, it's Ella." Her voice loses the hint of jealousy is previously possessed and she sounds bored. "What an ugly dress. I told her to wear the powder-blue one. So much more complimentary to her hair color and skin tone."

I find myself annoyed with Carter.

"Let's dance," she says suddenly, and drags me to the middle of the room. Now we are closer to Ella. I put one hand on Carter's waist and we step to the music.

"So what should we do tomorrow?" Carter asks.

"You forget I don't know much about Los Angeles," I counter.

"Hmm. We could go to the spa at the country club and get a couples massage. You feel stiff," she places her delicate hand on my neck and starts gently massaging. "Come here," she whispers, and guides my head to hers.

Once our lips make contact I instantly regret it. She's the one who feels stiff, forced. Like this is all for show. When we first met our kisses were full of passion. As the months have passed, everything feels oddly routine. Like we should kiss because were together, not because either of us want to. I feel as though I am a trophy of hers to show off instead of a person she genuinely enjoys being with.

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