I'm Broken {Harry Styles}

Chapter 22

| Lacey's POV |

"Harry what are you doing here?" I asked as I unlocked the door. It's always a good sign when the door is locked when I arrive because that usually means my father isn't home.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright, I stopped by the restaurant and they said you had already left." He shrugged.

"Awh, well isn't that cute," I teased.

"I'm not cute," he grumbled and I just laughed. We made our way inside and I did a quick scan of the house to make sure Dylan wasn't here. I walked in the kitchen and got a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You want one?" I asked. Harry just nodded and went to sit down at the table.

"Who dropped you off?" He questioned after I sat down across from him.

"Ryan," I simply replied.

"Who's Ryan?" He questioned, seeming frustrated.

"A friend." I could sense that he was getting worked up so I just wanted to edge him on a little.

"Are you fucking him?"

I spit out my water and started coughing. I could not believe he just asked me that. "What? No! He's Meg's boyfriend, good lord," I sighed. He looked somewhat relieved? His features were hard none the less. "Why do you care anyways?"

"I don't care. I was just curious."

"Right, because after just breaking up with my boyfriend who tried to rape me and living with an abusive father I'd go right into fucking my only and best friend's boyfriend." I scoffed.

"Whatever," he mumbled. "Where's the bathroom?" He asked.

"Down the hall, it's the second door on the right." He swiftly got up and walked to the bathroom. I dropped my head into my hands. Why is he here? Did he want to see me? Does he like me? He couldn't possibly like me, right? I groaned in frustration as the toilet flushed. What is wrong with me, why do I care so much? He's a total dick who sleeps around. I can't like him, not even a little bit. He is trouble and I don't need any more trouble in my life.

"What do you want to do?" Harry asked. I jumped as I hadn't heard him sit down.

"I'm pretty knackered," I said.

"As am I, we could watch a movie or something," he suggested. I shrugged and we walked over to the grungy old couch. I feel extremely poor compared to Harry, with my old, taped-together furniture and box TV. I slumped down onto the couch. "Where do you keep your movies?" Harry asked.

"They're in the cabinet next to the telly." He crouched down to dig through my old collection of disks, they're mostly kids movies from when I was little, as I don't buy films very often.

"These films suck ass," Harry said as he held up a Telly-Tubby movie and The Wiggles. "Do you have anything that isn't complete shit?"

"Sorry that I don't spend the little money I have on movies I won't even watch," I sassed. "But I have Netflix on my laptop, it's a little slow but it's better than nothing." I shrugged.

"Where is it?" He asked.

"It's on the floor, next to my bed," I said as I lazily stretched across the couch. As he left to go get it I couldn't help but keep wondering as to why he is really here. And he is in such a sour mood, I don't know why he's here of all places.

"Why do you keep your laptop on the floor?" He questioned. "It must be the most valuable thing you own and you keep it where you can easily break it."