Psycho ➳ H.S.

Chapter 6

Breathe out. Breathe in. Dive. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke. Breathe. Stroke. Stroke. Stroke.

The only place that offered Harry any sanctuary from what was going on was the pool. The water didn't speak to him, nor was it warm, nor did it offer an embrace of understanding. It was just water mixed with chlorine, but so far, it was the only thing that really made sense. He understood why chlorine was put into the water, and why the water felt cooler when you got in rather than when you stepped out. He did not understand Carissa.

He'd often tell himself what a waste of time she was; how chasing after someone as headstrong as her would get him nowhere. He wasn't used to this; he hadn't dated in a while, but the flings he had sustained him long enough to get him by. Now that he really wanted to be with someone, he couldn't. She wouldn't let him even if she felt something too- she must have known the impact she made on him. He remembered learning something in biology class about how the box jellyfish were some of the prettiest creatures in the ocean, but could also kill you in a matter of minutes after being stung- he couldn't help thinking back to the fact after he left her in the pantry two weeks ago. She didn't look hurt- she looked annoyed, but only because he wouldn't help her clean out the pantry after they had sex.

Since then, he found it extremely hard to take her direction at work. The odd time she would talk to him, she would ask him to clear a station or make an appetizer, to which he refused and replied, "I'm just a dishwasher. I'm not important enough to make Chicken Cordon Bleu". She'd sigh and ask no more of him, going off to another member of staff to aid her.

Lucas stopped by multiple times while the both of them were working. He was granted special access by Mr. Dale, who was obviously a fan of Lucas' swimmer status- something that aggravated Harry immensely. He would hang onto every word Carissa let loose from her mouth, flashing his pretty boy smile and running his hand through his hair when she laughed at his jokes. Today, he brought Carissa a vase of carnations. Carnations? Harry thought, If he was really serious about getting with her, he should've at least bought her roses.

"Hey, man! How's it going?" Lucas greeted, bringing over two cups of coffee. Harry was leaning on his elbows against an unmanned station, munching on a croissant during his break. Lucas placed one cup in front Harry, leaning upon the station as well and taking a sip from his cup. Harry eyed the mug, then eyed him. He pushed the mug back and continued eating the croissant.

"It's two and two," said Lucas, "I didn't know what you wanted, but-"

"What the hell is your problem?" Harry spat in a hushed tone so that no one could hear their soon-to-be heated conversation, throwing his croissant back onto the plate in front of him.

"Did you want me to add more sugar?" Lucas asked innocently.

"Look, McCoy- cut the shit. God knows you don't care about how I take my coffee. If you wanted to impress the only woman in this kitchen, you don't need to fight me for her."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry."

"I'm talking about you dropping by every single fucking day this week like a hawk or something, distracting us from our jobs, and bringing my supervisor-" he whispered viciously, pointing a finger at his face before being cut off. Lucas frowned and shook his head.

"Carissa and I have known each other for years, man. No need to get upset."

"I'm not upset! " the irony thick in the air, "And I don't want the fucking coffee!"

"Harry!" scolded Carissa from across the room. Some of the staff turned their heads to catch the drama; all of their ears perked up to listen. She stomped over to him and snatched the coffee from his reach. "Do not use that language in my kitchen"- she dropped her voice to a whisper- "or mark my words, I will fire you."

"You're not fucking serious-"

"Lucas, is this two and two?" she interrupted, turning to Lucas who found amusement in her threat to Harry. She brought the cup up to her lips, but Lucas swiped it from her hands before she could gulp it down.

"Let me make you a fresh one, doll," he chuckled, pouring the coffee down the nearest sink and playfully dragging her over to the coffee machine. Harry noticed this; it was peculiar because he hadn't touched the coffee. He was certain that Lucas was only doing it to piss him off; treat her like a princess- something only Harry had ever called her, and something Harry wanted to do more than anything. He noticed Carissa still used an abundance of concealer to cover up the hickeys he had given her. He made a mental reminder that she bruised easily, and for quite some time, so he should refrain from giving her more on visible places. What? he found himself thinking, To hell with her! Why should I hold any consideration for her?

At the end of the day, after all her duties were done and Lucas had left, Carissa stepped out the back entrance to look for Harry because he left his keys on the counter by accident. Sure enough, he was by his car rummaging through his bag for them. Her heart broke a little at the sight of his frustration; he looked like someone who had the worst of luck, and it was only getting worse. He let out a grunt of exasperation, tossing his bag onto the hood of his car and unzipping it, taking everything out in hopes of finding the keys.

"Harry?" she called. He flipped her off, not pausing his search for a second to even turn back. She sighed and made his way to him with the key ring on her finger, jingling them. At the sound of them, he exhaled in annoyance. He chucked the old pamphlets and fliers that he had in his hand into the trash bin adjacent to his car and turned around slowly to face her. Once again, she was captivated by his green eyes. Carissa felt like she was too harsh on him today, and guilt clung to her chest like it would to a reluctant murderer.

Harry huffed sharply through his nose and rolled his eyes as he chewed the inside of his cheek.

"Do you want them or not?"

"Obviously."

"Then what do you say?"

"Let's not play that game, Miss Lim," he spat, "it's unprofessional."

Carissa scoffed and closed her fist around his keys.

"I don't know why you have such a problem with Lucas," she complained, crossing her arms, "I mean, granted, he was a jerk before, but he's changed and you should really give him a chance."

Harry laughed hysterically at her suggestion and leaned against his car, also crossing his arms. She was mesmerized- tonight he was wearing an all black ensemble that showed off his tattooed, sinewy biceps.

"You know what, Miss Lim? I think I will. In fact, I'll let him win the Nationals too!" he said in an overly sarcastic tone, turning around to put everything back in his bag.

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Why are you such a prude?" he didn't turn around.

Carissa knew he was being difficult on purpose. She understood that with everything that happened within the last two and a half months, he had a reason to act this way towards her. It wasn't at all fair to him, she realized, because she and Lucas had been on proper dates, and she and Harry hadn't even had one. She turned him down before considering it. It wasn't as if she and Lucas were officially back together again, but she noticed that he was trying awfully hard to do so.

"I wanted to...I wanted to ask you to forgive me for how I acted today," she began.

"I'm not mad at you. I just want my keys. Some of us don't have dates tonight," he replied. She dismissed his attitude.

"Well some of us do."

"That's nice. Will he be taking you on a date to his bed?" he snapped, snorting at his own joke. She pursed her lips, but kept her temper.

"I certainly hope not. We've only known each other for two months and he hasn't taken me on a proper date yet- I stupidly denied him of the chance two weeks ago," she said shyly, watching his face go from hateful to hurt. He turned back to her and his face dropped.

"It's not funny anymore, Carissa," he murmured, reaching for her hand to take the keys, "It's one thing to lead me on, but it's another thing to flat out make fun of me for it."

She drew her hand behind her back and scowled.

"I'm not making fun of you!" she exclaimed, "I'm giving you a chance. Lucas and I are far from being a couple again, and after everything we've been through, I think you're entitled to a date."

He looked unsure of her sincerity, but nodded his head anyway. She opened her palm and gave the keys back to him, his reluctant fingers picking them out of her hand. He ruffled his thick curls and pushed them up out of his face, then gave her a small smile.

"Maybe let's just...hang out? Just so we can re-establish where we stand with each other? And then after that, if you want, I promise I'll take you on a date. "

She grinned and licked her lips.

"Sounds good."

To her surprise, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in the familiar scent of spice, mint and sweet musk all over again. He was exciting, fast paced, and unlike Lucas in a variety of ways. If you were any easier, your name would probably change into 'skank', spat her conscience.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asked. She hesitated because she didn't want him to go out of his way, but he took it as a yes. He unlocked the doors and gently nudged her into the passenger seat before walking around the car and getting in.

He drove her home again, only this time the streets were backed up with traffic after an accident occurred on the main road. He ended up talking about his favourite artist and putting on a CD, discussing the songs he liked and disliked and why. He also absentmindedly sang along to some of them, letting his voice fill the car with the lyrics of the song.

"You're good," she pointed out.

"What?"

"You're good at singing."

"Oh god," he laughed, "no, I'm not even close."

"I'm serious! I heard you while I was taking a shower at your place too. You've got a nice voice."

"It's just a hobby," he explained modestly. "What about you? What do you like to do?"

"Other than cooking? I'm not even sure, really. It's all I do at home. I'd like to cook more Chinese food though. I regret not learning from my uncle when I was younger."

"Your parents weren't cooks too?"

Her chest twisted at the mention of her parents, and he realized he had struck a chord.

"I'm sorry, I-" he quickly interjected.

"No, don't be," she dismissed, peering out the window- they still had about twenty minutes to go in the traffic they were sitting in. "I don't usually talk about them, that's all."

"You don't have to, you know."

"No, but you're close enough to me to know. I trust you."

He stayed silent at her last remark.

"My parents and I never really had that 'family portrait' connection. My dad was an alcoholic- he'd be at the pub most nights, and when he wasn't, he was drinking in front of the TV. My mom was the one that put up with me until she said- and I quote- 'I've had enough of this kid. Good bye'. Haven't seen her since. My dad couldn't last a day without getting drunk by the end of it, and he got more and more violent because he couldn't cope with my mom being gone- can you imagine that? Being a twelve year old kid hiding from your dad because you were scared he'd hit you..." she broke off. She didn't cry. She didn't ask him to look away from her face as she stared out the window at the accident they had just passed.

"I'd never hurt you," he started, knowing that an 'I'm sorry' wouldn't make things better, "I hope you know that."

She nodded. Harry didn't seem like the kind of person that would hurt anybody, regardless of what they had done to him. He was the type of person that used his height to his advantage, but he was nothing more than a gentle giant.

"So what are you doing tomorrow?" asked Harry. Carissa snapped back into reality after staring out the window. They had been silent for nearly fifteen minutes.

"What?"

"What are you doing tomorrow? For the Fourth of July?"

"Oh," she hadn't really thought about it, considering most of her friends went out of town for the long weekend and she didn't have family to spend it with, "Nothing, really. I'll watch it on TV or something."

"You should come out with me. That'll be our hang out! And then we can watch the fireworks- it'll be great. What do you say?"

She blushed at the idea of kissing under the fireworks, though she knew she would probably push him away if he tried. Still, spending Independence Day with someone for a change filled her with contentment. Lucas said he would be with his aunt and uncle anyway.

"I'd love to. Are you busy all day? We could go to the park early and watch it from there, if you want."

"I was going to train, but the park sounds more inviting," he chuckled, finally picking up speed as the congestion on the road died down, "I'll pick you up at three."

"It's a plan then," Carissa smiled. "So how are you doing in preparation for the nationals? They're in a month and a bit, right?"

"Five weeks, yeah," Harry replied, "I'm nervous."

"Don't be! You have just as good of a chance as anybody else."

"Fingers crossed," he grinned, pulling up to the curb. She scoffed and unfastened her seatbelt. Just get out of the car, snapped her conscience, you're being too friendly.

"Good night," she waved, stepping from the vehicle and shutting the door. She walked towards the lobby doors.

"Three o'clock tomorrow! And don't bring anything!" he called, setting off into the night.

She didn't get to sleep for another hour for she was busy fantasizing about how their day would play out tomorrow. She never went out to the park with Lucas; he always insisted on taking her down to Los Angeles or somewhere fancy. Carissa enjoyed staying in more than anything and Lucas' extravagance made her feel uncomfortable, even after three years of dating him before.

The next day, Carissa chose the most patriotic outfit she could find: a white shirt, an old pair of blue denim shorts, and red sneakers. She didn't own anything remotely 'American' despite having grown up in the country. Harry arrived at 2:55 pm, buzzing the intercom. She quickly checked to make sure everything was in place (she found herself hoping she looked nice, though she wasn't sure if it was because she wanted to impress him), grabbed her keys and her bag, and set out the door.

Harry was beaming from ear to ear when he saw her. He was dressed in a pair of jean shorts with cuffs that were rolled up a tad too high, a white Rolling Stones tee and a tan fedora. He was holding a bandana in his hand. He gave her a one-armed hug, quickly pulling away once it was over as to not push her comfort. He didn't know that Carissa wanted to bury her face into his shirt and savour his scent forever.

"You look rather nationalistic," he teased, handing her the cloth, "but I figured you didn't own something that screamed 'I love my country!', so I brought this for you to wear. It's mine, but I washed it so it doesn't smell gross like me."

He smirked at his joke, and she giggled back- she couldn't even begin to describe all the ways in which he wasn't sickly or gross as he described himself. She took it from him and examined the fabric, gingerly running her fingers over the white stars and red and blue stripes. The fact that he thought of her beforehand warmed her chest. It also made her wonder if he would ever take it and use it as a gag or blindfold against her while he fucked her under the firework-lit sky- you sicken me, said her conscience.

"Here," he offered, reaching for bandana, "let me help you put it on."

He bent his right leg at the knee and balanced on his left, hunched slightly, to create a makeshift platform with his thigh so he could handle the cloth properly. She watched his hands patiently fold the fabric once; twice; three times around until it was a single strip of thick cotton. He held it by the ends and walked around to her back, carefully wrapping it over her fringe and around her head, tying it securely- but not too tightly- in a double knot. He admired her for a moment; her dark, wavy hair was a waterfall, her backside was the river it fed into. He turned her around and smiled weakly.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing to the door. She grinned, feeling rather bashful for reasons unclear to her. Carissa followed him out to his car and got in. Instead of driving to the closest park, Harry took another route that landed them on the highway.

California's highways were surrounded by barren desert on either side. Harry rolled the windows down and let the breeze cool them down- today was a scorching one hundred and two degrees. He snuck glances at her as she poked her head out the window- her hair blowing in the wind, her tongue wetting her lips when they became parched from the dry air, and her eyes glinting in the summer sun.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"You'll see," he replied monotonously. She never liked it when he was like that. Harry wasn't very emotional from what she had seen. He didn't get upset over things, and his anger always diffused within a couple of minutes. His smile, though sincere, didn't radiate happiness or excitement. Perhaps he just wasn't as outward with how he felt, and he definitely displayed his care for her discreetly. He was wise; he was clever; he was someone that knew exactly what was going on at any given time. His childlike humour and lustful gaze were just the outer layer- there was so much more Carissa had yet to learn about him.

After half an hour of driving along the dusty roadway, a sign approached that read 'Welcome to Malibu'.

"You're joking! Malibu? Really?" she asked excitedly. She pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the sign before it passed.

"You've never been to Malibu?"

"My parents never brought me here as a kid, and I don't own a decent GPS."

"Really? My mates and I come down here all the time when we've all got a day off...usually a Friday like today, actually."

"Are they meeting us there?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, "today's just you and me."

She couldn't help but smile at his words- he made her feel so exclusive. Lucas would usually gather a bunch of his friends together and mingle around, leaving her to make her way to the other people for company.

Harry pulled up to a parking lot by the beach. The sand was littered with a sea of people dressed in the country's colours and the tide was going out then coming in to kiss the shore hello. Carissa hopped out of the car and onto the sunlit pavement, taking in the stretch of scenery before her.

"Do you want to check out the seawall? I packed food for us to eat along the way," he called from behind his car.

"Are you kidding? Yeah, let's do it!" she smiled. Harry joined her shortly after grabbing a bag from the back of his trunk. He reached into his knapsack and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen. She raised her eyebrow at the sight of it, and he shrugged.

"I'm not going to put it on for you," he stated bluntly, handing it to her. She felt silly assuming he wanted to use the sunblock as an excuse to touch her, but heaven knew she desperately wanted him to. She took it from him without another word, squeezing the lotion into her palm and rubbing it on her exposed skin. He did the same, then put it back into his bag. Harry pulled out a sandwich and handed it to her before grabbing one for himself.

"I made a ton, so if you want more let me know. I have water too."

"Came prepared, huh?"

"I wanted to impress you," he admitted. He didn't seem shy about it. In fact, he sounded like it was something she should've already known. "Come on. Let's walk."

They strolled alongside each other on the sidewalk that went on as far as they could see, munching on the assortment of sandwiches Harry packed and downing water from their bottles. Harry took off his shoes and walked barefoot, adjusting his hat every now and again. He also snapped pictures of them with his phone, holding up their sandwiches and grinning like idiots as the daylight beat down on the faces. The sun was making its way westward in the sky. More and more people piled onto the beach to wait for the fireworks. Mostly they just enjoyed each other's company, talking about things that came to mind. They held the same conversation for hours and hours until the sun dipped down, nearing the horizon and painting the sky red and purple again.

"Okay, okay...tell me about your tattoos," prompted Carissa after revealing the story of her first kiss, which took place after the boy she liked offered to kiss her for her bag of chips in second grade, causing Harry to burst out in laughter at their elementary school romance.

"Not all of them, because that'd take all night," he boasted sarcastically, "but I got a lot of them with friends. Typical shit, but it's cool that we match. The swallows represent freedom and hope...at least that's what it said online. And the boat's just...well, it's just a boat."

She laughed as he pointed to the various pieces of art scattered across his skin. She admired how he got most of them in the spur of the moment- it usually took her months to decide if she wanted a haircut or not.

"What about the butterfly?" she asked.

"You know that saying 'butterflies in your stomach'? When you get really nervous? I thought it'd be a clever way to showcase it, but most of my mates called it feminine and asked me if my next tattoo would be an infinity sign on my wrist."

"The infinity sign would definitely suit you," she teased, snickering, "but I never would've guessed the butterfly was a reference to nervousness. What on earth would you get nervous about?"

"You say that as if I'm not afraid of anything. What are you afraid of?"

"I...I'm afraid of the dark. And fire, or like...blowing up in an explosion or something, I don't know. Who wouldn't be afraid of that?"

"I always get nervous when I feel like people are fading away from me...I try really hard to keep them with me, but they just leave," he said nonchalantly, stretching his neck out to look at the people playing football in the distance, "so I guess I'm afraid of losing people I love."

He made a turn to sit on the closest bench at the side of the rust-coloured walkway they were on. It overlooked the Pacific Ocean, waves crashing in closer and closer to shore with every passing minute. She sat beside him in silence. His words replayed in her head: 'I'm afraid of losing people I love.'. There was one question she'd been dying to ask him since she saw the empty picture frame by his bedside.

"Where is your family, Harry?" her voice was just loud enough so that he could hear the timidness in her words. He exhaled and looked in the direction opposite her, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I don't know my dad, so there's one down," he replied, turning his head back to face to water, "my mum's back in the UK, and my sister's in Wales studying law. They weren't really keen about my swimming. They wanted me to go to school. I had the grades for it too- I could've gone to Oxford or Cambridge, but I didn't. I wanted to swim.

"My mum got so angry at me. Said I was wasting my life. My sister and my mum didn't really have the greatest relationship, so it's not like they talked after she left for Wales. Once I moved here, I lost them both."

"I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," she interrupted her apology, not wanting her pity, "you've probably wanted to know for a while now."

She wondered how Harry always knew exactly what she was thinking.

"What was her name? Your sister?"

"Lucy," he whispered, pursing his lips.

"Do you hate me? For asking that?" Carissa asked. He turned to her and the corners of his lips turned up slightly. His eyes were emotionless.

"I could never hate you. I mean, sure you piss me off, and you play hard to get every single day which drives me up the fucking wall," he snapped before his features softened, "but I could never hate you."

A football came flying through the air onto a patch of grass next to Harry. He stood and picked it up, positioning himself to throw it back. She marvelled at the sight of his muscles under his loose tee. His biceps were flexed and curled, then extended as he tossed it back to them with precision, landing a few feet away from the football's owner. They waved at him in thanks.

She got up as he turned to face her. Harry hesitated to move his limbs, but told himself to loosen up. Just do it, he thought, just get it over with. His head filled with pressure; his vision doubled; the constant debate on whether or not to hold her hand caused an ache in his chest.

He moved his hand towards hers, but before she could notice what he wanted to do, the ding of a bell caught her attention. There was a small bike rental stand just a few steps away.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, excitement flooding her head, "Harry, look! Bikes! Oh my god, can we please-"

"I don't know. I mean, you could get hurt and-" he began, trying to hide the fact that his gesture was rejected by causally bringing his hand up to rub the back of his neck

"I'm not going to fall," she scoffed, craning her neck to see if there were any bicycles left, "come on, it'll be fun!"

She tugged on his arm and pulled him towards the stand. He tried to stall, grinding his heels into the bricks of the sidewalk, but she had more strength in her than she showed.

"There are two bikes left! Harry, get the blue one so I can have the yellow-"

"I can walk-"

"That's no fun!" Carissa teased, "Why don't you want to bike?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Just because!"

"I want you to take me home if you don't tell me-" she threatened. He groaned in annoyance- he knew he couldn't say no to her pout.

"Fuck, fine. I don't...fuck, I don't know how to ride, okay? There. Are you happy?" he snapped, turning away as his cheeks turned red. Her face shifted into adoration and sympathy. He rolled his eyes as soon as he saw the expression on her face.

"Don't look at me like that, you're making me feel stupid," he grumbled. She grabbed his wrist with two of her hands and yanked him over to the stand.

"Do you have tandem bikes?" she asked.

"Last one," the man said, pointing to a red, two-seater bike, "seven bucks for an hour. Do you want it?"

"Carissa, wait-"

"Yes please," she smiled. The man came around with the bike and two helmets, jotting down the time on a piece of paper once she pulled out her wallet. Harry grabbed her wrist and took out his own wallet, fumbling with the dollar bills until he came up with the change. The man nodded his head and went back to his other customers. Carissa pushed it up further along the path, with Harry reluctantly following along.

"Which seat do you want?" she asked, handing him his helmet. He turned his nose up at it, crossing his arms.

"The seat that doesn't require me wearing the bucket of shame," he retorted. She took off his fedora and plopped the helmet onto his head, ruining his hair and earning her a curse word under his breath. She fastened the buckle- he looked like an overgrown toddler.

"It's the law, Styles," she smirked, putting her own helmet on and climbing onto the front seat. He huffed and shoved his hat into his bag, pulling his shoes out before slipping them onto his feet, closing the zipper, and sitting on the rear seat. He sighed and gripped the handlebars awkwardly.