Invisible || h.s.

PART II: 13: Withdrawal

Welcome to the second part of this story, as usual any feedback is appreciated, and thanks to everyone who's been reading so far!

PART II

I tapped my fingers impatiently on the table, wishing to be out of the small diner as soon as possible. In any other circumstances I'd be happy to stretch my legs after hours of sitting idly—as nice as Harry's Range Rover was, no car was comfy enough to spend all days and nights in.

I sighed as I caught the waitress looking our way again. The way her eyes kept flicking to our spot in the corner of the diner unsettled me way more than it probably should; still I couldn't help but feel suspicious. What if someone came looking for me here?

The thought prompted me to tilt my head towards the wall, and I made sure that my face was partially covered with my hair.

"What do you want?" Harry asked, flipping the pages of a worn-out menu. In complete contrast to me, he seemed at ease in the small diner, despite the very strange behaviour of its staff.

"I'm not hungry," I mumbled, placing my trembling hands between my knees in an attempt to calm down. "Could you order me a cup of coffee, please?" I suggested—probably not the best idea to add more fuel to my rapidly increasing anxiety, but caffeine was the only thing keeping me alive for the last few days.

Harry shook his head, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "You need to eat," he said in a tone that left no room for discussion.

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the patronising way he addressed me in; the last thing I wanted was for him to treat me like a child. We got along pretty well during the last two weeks—something I had unnecessarily worried about before—and I didn't want it to change.

"I'll have tacos," I decided finally, my stomach lurching uneasily at the mere mention of food. I've been feeling nauseous for a few days, a fact I had managed to successfully hide from Harry, at least for now.

Despite not knowing about my growing sickness, Harry could still easily sense my foul mood, "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," I muttered, but the way I nervously glanced at the waitress easily gave me away. Harry's eyes followed my line of vision, landing on a young brunette standing near the bar. As soon as she noticed his intense stare, she abruptly turned around, nearly dropping her tray to the ground.

"Don't worry about her," Harry tried to reassure me with no success—after all it was him who told me to, quote, 'never let my guard down'. I was about to remind him of just that, when I felt uneasiness creep up on me again.

"She's staring at us," I said quietly, realising the girl's eyes were fixed on the man seated opposite of me once again.

"It's nothing," Harry repeated, closing his menu with a bored expression on his face. "Let's order."

Before I had time to protest, he lifted his arm and urged the waitress to come over with a flick of his wrist. I watched as she sauntered over to us, stopping right next to Harry. Before she could get a good look at my face, I looked away abruptly, nervously playing with the hem of my skirt.

"What can I get you?" the girl asked. She pointed to a tag on her shirt that spelled the name Elle and proceeded to introduce herself politely.