Rules (Harry Styles)

Chapter 2: Lies

Chapter 2: Lies

Emerson's POV

I've always loved weekends. I always feel so free, free of any care in the world. I love the smell of the coffee shop, my favorite one, called 'Bean'. It's a relatively small café, decked out with skinny waitresses that had smudged make-up from their night shifts, or not bothering to take off or put on fresh make-up in the morning.

Mostly young, lonely people come to this shop, something I'd observed, I'd even seen a few times, scars on the forearms, legs rarely. It is out of the city, but I love to come here to relax, enjoy the alone time. A waitress, whom I have learned to be Jen, with crows feet at the edges of her old, blue eyes, with wrinkled skin, and a bad smoking cough addresses me.

"What can I get you?" Her voice is raspy and dry, and I just want to hand her a drink, but water won't cure her years of smoking. Jen reeks of smoke, the acrid scent creeping into my nostrils, along with some strong smelling perfume.

"Plain, black coffee." I say. Jen disappears, and I pull out a five dollar bill, waiting for her to return. She hands me a beige mug, dark liquid rippling as she does so. I hand her the money, and she hands me a greasy dollar and twenty-five cents back. Thanking her quietly, I head towards the small table by the window.

Sitting down, I keep my hands pressed against the hot mug, warming my chilled fingers after a morning out in the frigid February air of Rhode Island. I look out the window, the raindrops sliding down the fogged glass, dust piling at the bottom of the faded red windowsill.

There's a clanking of plates, people talking in hushed voices as if they were to disrupt a peaceful baby sleeping. Small dewdrops remain on my jacket, due to the latent rain outside. My smaller hairs on my damp hair are probably sticking out, not that it matters.

Pulling my right hand from the coffee cup, I grab my phone from my purse and scan through my contacts.

'Wallace Parlin'

Wallace Parlin is my brother, we don't have the same father, and we don't look much alike either. Wallace has always been tall, blue eyed and hair that looked gold, but brown also. It isn't really dirty blonde.

Wallace and I haven't talked since eight months ago, due to him finding out he doesn't have the same father as me. He changed his last name to 'Parlin' my mothers maiden name, though he shared the same last name as me, my mother and my father.

Wallace grew angry at me for not telling him of his situation, and grew angry at everyone else. Wallace went to college after that, and he never made contact with any of us.

Instead of calling Wallace, I call my mom.

***

Harry's POV

"Fuck off man." I say to Malik as we go back to our shared cell.

During inspection the guards found a bag of cocaine tucked in his sheets, hidden nearly perfectly.

Malik doesn't do drugs, and he told me he was holding it for someone else. It's true though, Felix Wicken was waiting for him to give it bag, seeing as how Wicken went through with their deal to get Malik cigarettes, in exchange for Malik getting him drugs.

Anyway, Malik got both our asses landed in the wardens office, listening to Alex the warden bitch about how we are inconsiderate of how much they give us, especially for criminals.

I bit my tongue on that one, no way I was going to get put in solitary.

Again.

"Screw you, it wasn't even mine anyway." Malik defends himself.