lemon's curse h.s.

one

emmalyn.

(last week of august)

The blaring of the mean alarm wakes up from my troublesome slumber and, groaning, I reach out to the bedside table to turn it off, slamming it rather harshly as if I'm taking all my frustrations out on it.

7 a.m.

7 a.m. on a fucking Saturday.

God, I really thought to be an adult would mean being able to wake when I want and not be sleep-deprived, 24/7.

But then again, I was not the brightest bulb in the box.

My mind unwillingly draws me back to the events of last night; it's weird how it started with a regular douchebag and ended with the reincarnation of Satan himself.

Well, that's a bit overdramatic.

But Harry was quite literally one of the most intimidating and fritting people I have ever met, and thinking about how he knew so much about me only adds to the plethora of fear, nervousness, and uneasiness.

"I'll see you around, Emmalyn."

Just the way he said it - so chilling and unsettling. I know I don't know him, at all, but he definitely seems like the type of person to play mind games, to make you fret and sweat over lies and sigh in relief over trepidatious truths.

Huffing, I begin using my phone to try and forget about everything that's happened in the last 12 hours.

By eight, I'm showered and dressed, and ready to start the day with no memory of the previous night.

Heading towards the kitchen, I see Harley sitting by the small, antique table with two chairs, which we call our dining table.

Yeah, having a dining table in a broken-down apartment in Brooklyn screams class and elegance.

"Hey," I greet her as I grab the coffee carafe, desperately needing the caffeine in my system.

"How was the date," she looks up from the book she's reading, sitting up straighter, suddenly looking very interested, "You got home late last night so I'm assuming it went well." She gives me a smug smile and I feel the urge to vomit out all the events of last night.

"Uhh, it was boring."

Actually it was anything but.

"The cab driver drove the wrong way, that's why it took so long," I lie straight through my teeth, already feeling immensely guilty about it.

I hate lying to people.

"Boring, huh?" she questions, not sounding that surprised, "So I'm guessing the wedding's off then." The same words that Harry spoke the night before coming out of her mouth, and I feel my heart skip a beat at the thought of him.

Expressing a dry chuckle, I sip on the coffee to hide my face from her while she continues, "Online dating... I told you it was a bust. Well, at least you gave it a shot, that's more than I can say for myself. Now you can tell people you're a risk-taker."

Risk-taker.

Right now that word sounds much too synonymous to senseless and simply idiotic.

Who knew going out with a guy who claims the proletariat should be 'kept on a tight leash' would end with me witnessing a dead police officer and interacting with a potential criminal.