lemon's curse h.s.

three

unedited x3

( i'm sorry)

emmalyn.

I don't have to talk to him when I go out.

Technically, he did order me, leaving me no choice to say yes or no... but I could easily give some sort of excuse to get away from him.

I could say I got lost, in the place where I've been working for months.

I'm dense enough to make that sound believable.

Right?

What could he possibly wanna chat about? 

As scared and frightening as the thought of talking to him is making me, I can't help but feel a little exhilarated by it as well.

It's not that I want to be with him, but I am curious to find out what he wants to talk about. 

That night when I first met him happened three weeks ago; he'd told me to keep my mouth shut about it and that's exactly what I've done. No one knows about anything I saw or think might have happened.

But then why would he wanna talk? 

I feel like I've gotten in trouble for breaking the rules, except I haven't broken any and there are no rules, to begin with. 

Maybe Harry just wants to tell me I make bad coffee?

He won't be the first one to say so, oftentimes people say I make it too strong. 

But he would have just said that in the break room and let me be.

Two minutes.

That's how long it's been since Harry asked, no demanded, I meet him outside.

And in those two minutes, the thoughts in my brain have moved a mile a minute, jumping to the most ridiculous and foolish conclusions. 

But then again, there really is nothing  I can think about that he would wanna talk about with me. If he's smart, which he seems to be, he wouldn't bring up the other night and give me even more of an impetus to blabber about it to someone else. 

1.59 p.m.

I grab my bag, take a deep breath, and make my way towards the staircase, deliberately prolonging each movement. I have a few stories to walk down so that gives me enough time to prepare for whatever it is Harry wants to do with me. 

I take my time, politely greeting every familiar face I see until the fear of the consequences of making Harry wait for too long to start to invade my mind and I find myself moving faster with each stop even though I don't want to. 

Once I reach the exit, I take a deep breath and push past the door.

Before I can even attempt to escape, I'm met with Harry's tall figure leaning against the wall, a cigarette in one hand while his other is tucked into his front pocket.