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21ˁᵀ CHAPTER

                                                   21ˁᵀ CHAPTER               

     “There is no place for normal people in this world, either be a stupid or a very special one”

 

For the first time in ages, she wakes up to the sound of the alarm going off; barely manages to move a hand to turn it off before knocking her arm against the bedside table instead. She curses silently to herself, and that’s when she notices her head hurts.

And, God. Isn’t that just pathetic?

Elisha didn’t drink last night. Probably just one sip of beer or two, but she’s come to adopt such a boring routine that one single night out is enough to get her knackered. She groans again, mostly because she’s embarrassed of herself and what her life has turned into.

She used to be a lot more fun during uni. But that’s just a sign she’s grown up, she tells herself. It must be a good thing she’s reached the mental state of a ninety-year-old. Kinda.

Leesh digs the heels of her palms into her eyes and pushes the blanket away, blinking slowly to try and adjust to the morning surroundings, glancing quickly out the window to see a hazy and silent town outside, grey and boring. Elisha loves these days better.

Still on her pyjamas, Leesha checks the clock once more just because it hasn’t sunk in yet every since the alarm went off, and then she drags her feet on the carpet until she’s in front of the bathroom door, grips the knob and shivers at the cold touch it offers before twisting it and walking in on autopilot.

The rest goes still as if she hasn’t woken up fully, not until the cold water washes all the sleep off her face, vanishes from the entirety of her body. Elisha is so incredibly tired she wonders how she usually wakes up on her own just because she’s used to it, used to mornings and actually having to leave her bed. It definitely sounds like a sin.

Already half-presentable, she walks out of the room and towards the one next to hers, pushing the door open without even knocking, knowing he’ll be already up by the smell of tea and also because he always is. It’s something that has happened for the past few weeks, and none of them seem to bother. All in all, it’s a good thing for them both, keeping human contact without actually sharing words, or whatever.

“’Morning,” she announces, closing the door behind her and settling at the end of his bed, making herself comfortable by grabbing the blanket and wrapping it around her legs; her back against the wall.

He nods his acknowledgment, pouring the liquid into two mugs and handing her one of them, walking backwards to rest his hip against the table and lean on it, actually half-sitting on it with feet firmly planted on the ground, ankles crossed lazily.

The room feels oddly empty still, because somehow Elisha has gotten used to the image of several paintings shoved under the table and some even under the bed, pointy edges peeking off, but now Harry has given up on all of them, has thrown them all away with the mere excuse of “I need space” that Leesh doesn’t buy for a second.

They barely stay at their rooms. But she’s not going to argue his reasons.

Leesha blows smoothly at the constant steam, wraps and unwraps her fingers around the mug too-hot, analyses the tea carefully before sipping it, and peeks up at Harry when she feels his gaze glued to her for far too long, his skin creased between his brows.

“Should we talk?” he asks quietly when their looks lock, turns his head down to his own mug as the words leave his mouth.

Elisha studies him for a while, trying to understand what the hell he means now, why he’s so random at times (she’s still not fully used to it), when she gets it. Okay, so he’s worried about the kiss. To be honest, she hadn’t expected him to remember at all, considering how light and happy and outgoing he had been the night before, always with some sort of drink between his hands.