Eucalyptus & Honey |H.S.|

Chapter 6 - I Don't Ever Wanna See You With Him

A week came and went, and I hadn't seen or heard from Harry.

Considering the fact that he hadn't called, I assumed he was true to his word and didn't give me the part. He probably gave it to the the first guy who auditioned. Or the pink-haired girl. She was pretty. He probably wanted to fuck her too.

A part of me was pissed that he didn't call, or even attempt to speak to me. Was he not thinking about me? I knew it was good for him too—he looked just as fucked as I did the next morning. So, there was no fucking way he wasn't thinking about it.

Ever since we'd fucked, he was the only thing my mind could focus on. His wandering hands; his silky curls; the way his hips moved against mine. His cock.

Which was why an even larger part of me was grateful he hadn't called. I wasn't an idiot. I knew I'd been fucked over again, and the worst part was, I had let it happen. And I was more determined than ever to never let it happen again.

The week had been a monotonous routine of waking up, working, spending time with Margot, and sleeping. I didn't mind my job at the cafe, but it wasn't exactly a dream either. I first started playing the bass when I was twelve when my Dad had given it to me as a gift, and it was all I had wanted to do since.

That's why I was so anxious about the audition with Harry. Well, that, and I did really want to see him again. Now, I'd pretty much do anything to avoid that.

I'd played a few gigs before as a fill-in, but those never lasted. So, I was stuck working at the cafe, for now.

I was currently working with Olive and another co-worker, Miles. We typically only have two people working the cafe during the week, but the weekends are always busy as fuck. And today was no exception.

It was a Saturday, and the cafe was filled with people eating, and ordering drinks since we opened. It was a restaurant too, but I only worked at the barista counter.

The line to order drinks was currently backed to the door, and that didn't include orders from people sitting down to eat. I didn't mind the chaos. It would give me something to take my mind off of that stupidly fucking perfect face.

I was working the register, while Olive and Miles were behind me making drinks. I could feel that my cheeks were slightly heated from the long line of people, and the lack of airflow. My forehead and the nape of my neck were both beginning to prickle with sweat, which I knew would cause my baby hairs to turn into frizzy curls.

My fingers were tapping a previous order into the iPad when I welcomed the next person without looking up. I knew that was rude, but I couldn't bring myself to give a fuck on days like this.

Not until the somewhat familiar accented voice spoke. "Hi, darlin,' how's it goin'?"

My eyes whipped up to find the most-definitely familiar blue eyes staring into my own. His ashy brown hair was flopping over onto his forehead, and from the waist up, I could see he was wearing a white t-shirt saying something about Lady Gaga on it.