blue (book one) - h.s. ✔️ watty's 2019

chapter 30 - harry part two

I wake up with the cheap whore lying on me and instantly shutter in disgust. The walls of the little room are now vibrantly red from the light of the still very active club. I look around the stereotypical play room for any sign of bodies beside our own. Usually, if I stayed passed my time, Reg never did hesitate to rent out the room to other paying customers. Thankfully, there's no sign of other persons in the room.

Gently pushing her off of me so as not to wake her I leave a hundred on the coffee table beside the bed. Reaching down, I first slide on my black briefs and then the rest of my clothes before stepping out into the more lively section of the club.

I'm zipping up my fly when I exit the premises uncaring of the judging looks I get from people that have no room to talk.

Once I'm out on the open road I can't help but think about Parker and it irritates the fuck out of me. I just can't seem to get the adorably innocent boy out of my head. I run my head over my face as I realize that that must've been his first kiss.

Fuck.

Groaning, I run my hand through my hair and start tapping on the steering wheel. I just realize that I must've picked up the anxiety-based tick from Park as I've caught him several times doing the motion.

Pulling over to the side of the road once I'm closer to my flat, I get out a pencil that has seen better days and a Burger King receipt and scribble an apology on the back. How is it possible that I feel like an invader to my own place? I silently open the door with hope that he is sleeping by now and let out a sigh of relief to find that he is.

As I walk over to leave the note on the counter I can't help but feel bad for all of this. I mean it is my fault.

Poor guy.

I head into my bedroom and pull the light throw off of my bed, heading back into the living room to wrap it around his tiny body. When I head back into the living room I hear him shuffle a bit in his sleep and slightly panick at the suddenness of it all. Continuing anyways, I get closer to the fragily boy and a wave of hurt and guilt flows through my body as I take note of his tear-stained eyes.

I did this.

I breathe out a breath of air, ignoring the small pang of hurt I get from seeing the boy so broken.

After I am sure that he is cozy and tucked in I exit my flat for the second time this night.

As I'm driving I turn up the radio a bit and am ecstatic to hear the Script playing through the speakers. I find myself humming to the familiar tune and continue driving until I make my destination.

I look up at the familiar sign and head inside of the depressing building.

As I walk up to the counter I see the face of an older woman.

"Where's Martha?" I ask confused. She's usually here at work at this hour.

"She had to go home early," the lady continues uninterested. "Family problems. How can I help you?" She asks smacking her loud gum.

"I'm here to see Anne Twist," I say impatiently growing tired of the lady's uncaring attitude.

"Can I have your name?" She asks not looking up from her work.

"Styles. Harry Styles," I utter rolling my eyes at her unprofessional behavior.

This bitch has got to be the rudest woman I have ever met.

"Ah. Mr. Styles. Room 304. If she's asleep don't wake her and you can come back and wait in our waiting lounge until breakfast in a few hours."

I mutter a short 'thanks' and continue to the back with familiarity.