I don’t even know what this is. It’s Haylor, that’s for sure. HA. xx.
author- newyork-be-here
tumblr- http://newyork-be-here.tumblr.com/
Summary- Harry visits Taylor at her apartment at night
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I don’t even know what this is. It’s Haylor, that’s for sure. HA. xx.
Usually it didn’t bother Taylor when she slept alone in her apartment, she would just watch TV until she fell asleep.
Tonight, however, the wind was blowing so hard that she started to feel like Dorothy over in Oz. She turned off the TV since she was already constantly muting it when she thought she heard someone trying to break in. She lay flat on her back staring at the ceiling trying to ignore the sound of the window rattling in its pane at the wind beat against the house.
The longer she lay there the more she started to mistake sounds of the wind for sounds of someone trying to break into the apartment. Her mind has a way of getting away from her, from airplanes falling a part in mid-air to serial killers pounding down her door at midnight on a Wednesday. She tried to put her head under the blanket but suddenly felt claustrophobic.
She couldn’t think of what to do but she knew that she needed to sleep or Thursday was about to be hell. She reached over to her night stand to check her texts and silently chastised herself for the disappointment that ran through her seeing that Harry hadn’t sent anything. There weren’t words to describe their relationship, it seemed like they would flit in and out of each others lives whenever it worked best. When they were together it was what they both wanted until one of them would break and they’d go back to just a friendship. It was no way to live, Taylor knew that. But, Harry had mentioned flying into New York tonight and she had hoped he might text her. Now, seeing no notifications on her phone, she hated the disappointment coursing through her.
As for all of thee scary noises she was hearing, she decided to take things into her own hands and investigate the apartment. She was thinking if she could double check there were no murderers sitting in the main room she would be able to get to sleep. She flipped on the lamp on her night stand, grabbing her phone and then flipping on her bedroom light, tip toed to the bathroom and flipped on the light while simultaneously yanking back the shower curtain since that is where most scary murderers would hide, probably. She turned on the light in the main room illuminating the kitchen as well. She leaned to check over the counter and looked behind her favorite red chair and, not surprisingly, found nothing there. She set her phone on the counter and moved to sit on the edge of the red chair rubbing her eyes. “Grow up,” she says out loud to herself in hopes some part of her would and stop making extravagant murder scenarios up.
As she stands to go back to bed she hears three loud knocks against the door. The panic that strikes through her is unexplainable. It feels like high school when that girl Carol pulled out the Ouiji board at a sleepover. She runs back to her room immediately sliding under the covers twisting them around herself like a cocoon. She stretches her hand out from her cocoon to grab her phone before realizing she set it down in the kitchen during her murderer search. When she hears the knocking again she flips the covers off of her and scurries into the kitchen grabbing her phone and ducking behind the counter opening the cupboard doors for a pot or pan for protection.
I am ridiculous. She jumps as her phone vibrates and illuminates with a picture of Harry flashing on the screen. Now he calls her. Even in this life or death situation (probably) she can’t ignore the fluttering in her chest.
