Perspective

Chapter Seven.

"Come as you are, as you were
As I want you to be
As a friend, as a friend
As an known enemy"

***

I'm wearing Harrys shirt.

I'm standing in Frankie's kitchen with my arms folded, glaring at the son of a bitch that 'accidently' tipped half a bottle of water over my uniform when I came in here to get a drink after I left the sun room, to which he subsequently followed like a buzzing fly that won't fuck off.

Harry is leant with his arm above his head against the fridge, holding one side of the doors open with his free hand, observing it's contents.

I glance at the knife block on the counter.

Maybe I'll 'accidently' trip and shove a butchers knife up your ass, smirky.

I still can't believe he fucking did that to me!

Harry notices me out of his peripheral vision, standing on the other side of the kitchen island, after coming out of the bathroom to get changed.

He smirks to himself, but continues to stare in the fridge "What were you saying about not wearing my shirt again love?"

Keep smirking dickhead, I'm going to be using it to pick up Gizmos shit tomorrow morning.

I don't say anything, just stand there imagining I have eye lasers and I'm currently using them to melt that smug head of his.

His smirk only deepens at my hostile silence, before he purses his lips thoughtfully, drumming his fingers against the fridge door "Would you like a drink? I'm just grabbing a water - I spilt mine"

I still ignore him, calculating in my head how many of those late night crime shows I'll have to watch to figure out how to effectively hide his dead body.

Now he grins, at my lack of response, reaching in to grab a new bottle of water, before nudging the door closed with his elbow and leaning his shoulder against it lazily while he stares at me; opening the water with a raise of his brows.

"Let me guess - now you're a mute? Or maybe you're suddenly deaf now? Can't wait for the next miracle when that magically gets cured too" he says bringing the bottle to his lips, slowly wrapping them around the rim of the bottle, his lips tightening as they quirk at the corners while he takes a sip of his water.

Choke on it, ass hat.

He gulps his mouthful of water down, bringing the bottle of water away, wetting his lips and reattaching the lid, eyeing me with a cheeky glint in those eyes that spell nothing but trouble.

"Not wearing a bra under a thin white shirt, someone's naughty" he muses, focusing his eyes on my chest that my arms are folded underneath of; my eyes snapping wide as I quickly cover my arms over my chest, frowning at him in offence.

I'd have a bra on if it wasn't currently sopping wet thanks to you, you insufferable twat.

"Mmmm" he hums with an exaggerated pondering expression, lifting his chin "So you aren't deaf, good to know"

I still stay dead silent, my whole demeanour defensive and abrasive, and I could scream at how he's staring at me like I'm a grumpy puppy.

"You just going to give me the silent treatment all night then?" he asks, twisting the water bottle in his hands, pushing off the fridge and placing the bottle on the kitchen island as he walks towards me casually "Mute is the option you're going with?"

I narrow my eyes at him, pressing my lips together in a stubborn expression which only seems to encourage the devious look on his face as he rounds the counter to stand in front of me.