Fervor.

six.

Vanessa's POV

When we leave the restaurant, I notice the traffic hasn’t lessened one bit. And it only adds more frustration to my nerves, because I already have to deal with drunken stranger.

As soon as we hit the blocked up road, Harry speaks, “I told you it’ll be fun” his words drag on slowly

“Sure,” it was fun….until Harry nearly drank an entire bottle of champagne, and he’s lucky I stopped him

“I still didn’t get to know you,” he slurs “I said I wanted to get to know you better because we’ll work together. But I didn’t. Vanessa I didn’t get to know you. And I think that’s wrong”

This man just landed and barely 3 hours later, he’s intoxicated by alcohol. I hope drinking isn’t a habit of his…no, I don’t think he could be an addict. 

“Harry, it’s your first night in New York and you’re already drunk”

“I want to get know you better” he ignores what I said

“You’re wasted” I state

“Hell yeah I’m wasteddddd” he hiccups before bursting into laughter

I sigh loudly in response, not sure what else to say

“I want to get to know you better” he repeats

“No you don’t”

“Yes, I do. I doooooo” he whines and I make a mental note to never allow myself to be around someone drunk whom I’d just met

I try to change the topic “How about we listen to music?” I reach over and turn the radio on

“No” his word is firm and he literally stomps his foot, reminding me of a five year old, and then he goes to turn the music off

“You can’t do that” I warn him

“You’re boring” he rudely remarks for what seems like the tenth time today

“Jesus. Is that the only thing you can say to me?”

“It’s all I know about you” he’s surprisingly witty for a person who isn’t one hundred percent conscious

This would definitely be a lot more fun if we were both drunk, and it was an appropriate time.

I decide to turn the tables on him. There’s a question I want to ask him that’s been nagging me for the few hours I’ve known him, “Why do you do that thing were you switch personalities?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he huffs with a bothered expression, his mood has shifted dramatically

“One second you use this tone that makes you sound like you’re some rude prince, and then later you sound like a man your actual age” I explain

He snorts “A rude prince?”

I nod, and he chuckles “I am sorry. Unfortunately, I am not aware of what you are talking about” he barely makes it through the sentence as he stifles his laugh and I’m confused by his sudden cheeriness.

My head can’t keep up with his mood changes, it’s giving me whiplash. I glance over at him and see that he has my phone in his hands, “What are you doing?”

“Adding Rude Prince to your contacts” he says, and giggles. Literally.

I roll my eyes “Okay, but seriously. Why do you do that? And you know exactly what I’m talking about”

“Are you really sure? I frankly feel like I do not change a single thing” he uses the exact deeper tone I’m asking about.

Irritation is already fueling me because of the traffic, and Harry’s stubbornness is not helping. But seeing that he’s drunk, I decide to let it slide, along with the topic we’re discussing.

We’ve stuck in the same spot for a while and I slam my hand on the steering wheel and groan loudly; I’m really not having it today.

When I turn my attention to Harry, I expect to see a silly grin on his face. Instead his eyes are focused on my grip of the wheel, his expression thoughtful. His gaze moves to my face and our eyes meet for a few seconds, but I quickly push my eyes to look out the dashboard. Yet, I still feel Harry’s steady gaze burning on me.

 Knowing that I’m being watched by easily the handsomest guy I’ve ever seen in my life, and not knowing what thoughts could possibly be running in his head, results in my heart pounding and a blush to creep up on my cheeks.

After what felt like years, I feel his eyes leave me and I force myself not to let out a deep breath. I abruptly clear my throat and break the uncomfortable silence, “Do-do any of your tattoos mean anything to you?” what a stupid question, I feel so lame.

“I said I want to get to know you better. Not the other way around” he’s slow and his tone has lowered. I steal a glance, and he’s staring at his fidgeting hands that lay on his lap, his expression deep in concentration.

“I’m just wondering about your tattoos…you must have a story behind at least one of them” my attempt at small talk is horrible and my tone is nervous due to his drastic mood changes; not sure how to approach him.

“Well I don’t.”

“There has to be” I press

“There isn’t.” he sounds impatient 

“C’mon, Harry. I’m just-“

“There isn’t. Alright? They’re all random and don’t mean shit. Have you never seen someone get a random tattoo? Not everything has to have meaning, Vanessa” he snaps, ending the conversation

I’m stunned by his sudden outburst. The way his moods change quickly is beyond confusing and exhausting. Is it because he’s drunk? Or is he this way when he’s sober too?

I’m almost certain that there’s more to the tattoos than Harry let on. It wouldn’t make sense for him to suddenly snap if there hadn’t been something he’s hiding.

Alone with my thoughts, I can’t help but think that so far the conversations I’ve had with Harry were smoother than I’d expected; minus this one. It really easy to talk to him, even though all he did was mock and tease me. I’ve just never got on so well with someone I’d just met.

Realizing the thoughts I’m having, I immediately stop myself, shaking my head. It’s ridiculous, really. I’ve known the guy for a few hours, and I already find myself unable to stop anticipating and fantasizing the next time he’ll touch me. Just so I can feel the rush of nerves in my body again.

I look over at Harry for what seems like the fiftieth time today, and my heart flutters at the innocent and peaceful sight. His head is resting against the window, mouth slightly parted, and his eyes are slowly closing. But then, realization hits me that he’s about to sleep, and as much as I’d love to continue watching his beautiful face, I must wake him up.

“Harry” I say but he doesn’t respond

“Harry” my voice is louder this time and I hear him hum in response

“Don’t sleep. Look, we’re nearly there” I point out to my apartment building in the distance

He groans and rubs his eyes as he straightens up in the seat “I’m so tired”

“I know you are, but I don’t want you to sleep in here. We’re almost there”

Harry didn’t seem as bad as I’d expected and I feel like we can be good friends. Friends? Ha! You know you want more than that. Friends with benefits maybe? My subconscious mocks me and I’m irritated because she’s probably right.

I know it's short and I'll update tomorrow :) Thank you for reading ! Please comment, vote, and share !