Untold

Chapter 9.

"What made you come to Sydney?" He startles me from my thoughts. Finally he breaks the string of silence.

He's calmer now.

"It's been my dream since I was little to study here. What about you?" I speak as his green, emerald eyes wanders into mine.

"Before going into the army I took a major in Psychology. Little did I know that I'd be teaching it." His voice is soothing and relaxing.

Since when was he in the army? Why did he get out? Why is he a Lecturer now? My mind flows in with many questions that I'm eager to be answered.

"You were in the army?" My voice sounds surprised but confused at the same time.

He looks up from his shiny cutlery with one eye brow raised.

"Yeah. Six and a half years to be exact." He lightly laughs.

His dimples are etched as his brown hair glows in the twilight sky.

For a minute I forget his answer. But then my mind suddenly piece everything into place. With his familiar accent, just like mine, it reminds me of home.

"Were you in the British Compound Army?" I curiously ask as I get more into our conversation.

He doesn't waste time on answering, "Yes I was."

My excitement zooms into space. So many questions are flying into my head.

"Did you work in combat and security?" I beam.

"Could you wear down the questions? I'm really hungry and your hideous questions aren't helping." he states as his voice is full of annoyance.

I'm taken back by his sudden fit, and I sink into my chair in embarrassment.

"But do you know Jordan Larson?" As the curious person I am, I can't help but ask one last question.

He pushes back his curl and take a usual breath in. "If I didn't make it any more noticeable before, I'm not answering."

"Just please answer my question!" My voice comes out as more whiner and desperate than I thought.

For some odd reason I'm more scared to hear the answer if he will ever answers it.

We start to get a few glares from the nicely dressed customers and I see some of the staff quietly chatting amongst themselves in confusion. At this moment, I don't care if we have an audience.

"You know what, forget about this." He shouts as he loudly stampers out of his seat.

The seat falls on its back, but he doesn't care to pick it back up. He runs out of the restaurant as he pushes the waitresses with trays aside that are in his way.

I jump in my seat before realising what is happening. I do the same and follow him out intonthe carpark. I feel a guilt in me that we didn't pay for our orders. But then again, we never got them.

I feel my cheeks heating up as I get closer to Harry.

"What is with you? First you drag me out to have dinner with you and now you're wild as a tiger just about me asking you one damn question!" My words sound harsh, but I don't take them back as he paces back and forth beside his car.

"Are you kidding me? Before telling me anything about you, you ask questions that aren't needed about my past?" His voice sounds more of a statement than a question.

His Nike shoes graze above the pebbles on the asphalt.

"You must be sick." I spit as I start to walk away to get a bus or train. Something that doesn't involve with Harry.

My heart starts to ache and I can fill my eyes filling up with hatred.

"Where do you you're going?" He grabs onto my wrist and I turn to him, but manage to look down and not his flawless face. His eyebrows are stitched together, pupils huge as a football.