Silk || hs

Miss Keisha

"He left," Harry's voice says from behind me, a sort of irritation laced in his voice.

I think under any other circumstances, this news would probably hit me hard, and I would start to feel really insecure, but for some reason, I can't feel that way. Maybe it's the alcohol numbing my nerves or the fact that Harry is the one telling me. Either way, I don't know what's really happening and why Jake left me in here alone. But instead of asking anything about the situation at hand, apparently, the only question that my subconscious wants to ask is what Harry is doing here.

When the words leave my mouth, Harry looks at me confusedly for a moment before an amused grin overtakes his pretty, pink lips. His dimples pop as he does this and he has this mischeivious look about him that reminds me why I was so obsessed with him. Ugh, stop looking like a Ken doll, please. That'd make everyone's life much easier.

"How drunk are you?" Harry laughs, his bright eyes observing my unsteady motions. As I try to walk away from him, I stumble a little, but Harry makes me resume my seat. His hand on the skin of my back ignites the stupid feeling in my stomach that can only be my admiration for him coming back to annoy me. I want to push him off of me so that I can leave and not have to speak to him, but I find that my legs don't want to work for some reason.

"It's the heels," I groan, and he shakes his head at me, chuckling under his breath as he walks away.

Okay, what is it with guys walking away from me tonight? My game is normally bad, but not this bad.

Though I am certainly drunk, I don't really wish to admit it to him. He was so rude the last time we spoke, so the last thing I want to do is to act like nothing ever happened. His mood is so fucking unpredictable that it's hard for me to know how I'm supposed to act around him. Also, I don't want to give him another reason to think that I'm being irresponsible this evening. Him seeing Jake sucking on my face is just about as much embarrassment as I can take right now. On the other hand though, since he knows I'm drunk, then maybe he wont think as badly of me for it since I'm not in my right mind.

Ugh, I don't know anything.

My eyes drift from Harry's muscular back to the wooden table in front of me, and I find myself staring at the curvy lines that run across its surface. There's one line that's thicker than the others, and for some reason, my fuzzy brain thinks its the most interesting thing in the world. The line runs through the wood, converging with several others in the middle of the table to form a really big, rough dark spot.

When Harry returns, he finds me intensely staring at the spot and running my fingers over the textured wood with little acknowledgment of his presence. A water cup is set in front of me, and I watch as the sweat on the plastic trickles down to wet the wooden surface. That's a fascinating sight as well.

I don't hear the chair beside me scrape against the floor, but when I look up, I see that Harry is watching me with those stupidly green eyes of his.

"What are you looking at?" I ask him, the edge of irritation laced throughout my tone in a way that I hadn't anticipated. Despite my rudeness, Harry shrugs and continues to watch me with an unchanging, neutral expression of curiosity. If the room weren't spinning in slow motion, I think the look he's giving me wouldn't bother me, but because I can't seem to keep my eyes focused, his composure just makes me uneasy and pisses me off.

I ask again, "What are you doing here?" Harry laughs aloud this time, throwing his head back and causing his hair to do that cute floppy thing where it falls just in front of his eye.

Harry regains his composure and leans towards me, resting his elbows on his very, very pink pants that I am just now noticing. Is he for real? I mean, no judgement at all, but I have to say that it takes a very secure man to pull these pants off the way Harry is.