17BLACK

Chapter 8

Harry's POV:

Should I apologize? No. I need to leave him alone. He probably hates me and it would be better if we just pretended if nothing ever happened between us.

I trace along the rose tattoo on my arm but it feels wrong. My fingers are warm and too rough after I've been touched by Louis.

I physically shake with the affects of my mind. There's a war going on and I'm just the disposable battle ground.

I scream. Literally scream in frustration and anger at myself for being such a dick. No one can hear me in here anyways. I have the entire floor to myself.

I don't want to feel sad right now. I'm mad at myself and I feel like punching a brick wall.

There's a rather large stereo in my bedroom and I hook my phone to it, turning on a playlist. It's named "i'm mad and i have a right to be". Yeah. I like this one.

I turn it up as loud as humanly possible and take a beer from the kitchen; the complex had built a huge shelf with bottles of everything you can think of. I drink straight from the glass.

I grab my laptop and walk out onto the terrace. It's terribly cold but I like how it feels compared to my warm skin. I leave the sliding glass door open.

I turn the device on and strain my eyes to see the screen. I'm not used to the daytime, I adopted the night owl routine long ago. It's refreshing though, the city lights get boring after a while.

The complex has unprotected wifi so I connect easily and go straight to Google. I type hurriedly, making many mistakes that only make my anger grow.

Motorcycle for sale in London, UK

The idea of owning a motorcycle seems even more appealing now that I've had a taste of the traffic here. And I like the cold. It makes me feel... alive.

I take another sip of my beer.

I click on the first website that pops up, it's a cheap web page though and all the cycles seem trashy.

Twenty minutes and a beer later I gripe in frustration. None of the sites have what I'm looking for.

I expand my range of options.

Motorcycle for sale in United Kingdom

The first website has a picture of a sleek black Harley. I hurriedly click on it and nearly trip over my feet running back inside to get my phone. I dial the number and tap my foot impatiently.

"Hello?" A man speaks on the other line, his voice coated with many years of smoking I assume.

"Yes, I read your article online about the Harley you're selling and I-"

"Yeah yeah yeah you want to buy it. I'm not coming down on the price, first of all, and you'll have to pay in cash and then come and pick it up yourself."

"The price isn't a problem at all sir, when is a good time to come and pick it up?" I chew on the inside of my lip anxiously.

"Got any plans for today son?"

✖

"You must be the one wanting to buy the motorcycle."

I jump at the sudden voice, hitting my head on the roof of the car. I back up and rub my head.

"Yeah, that's me. Oh." I'm accompanied by a girl that looks my age. Her hair is long and blonde, trailing down her back and ending at her shorts line. Which isn't saying much, her shorts end about where they start. I can safely say that I haven't seen shorts that small.

"Aren't you cold?" I'm cold just looking at her.

She's wearing a blue jean jacket that isn't buttoned more than half the way up and reveals a lot of her breasts.

She smiles a big toothy grin that shows off her straight white teeth. "No. You're the one to talk, you're buying a motorcycle in the winter."

"I like the cold," I defend myself.

She giggles. I don't get the joke. "Maybe I do too."

She turns away from me and begins to walk away, her hips swaying a little too much. She turns her head my way. "The bike is in the barn. This way."

I follow her and keep my eyes on the ground. Her attire is making me uncomfortable.

She grunts as she pulls open the large door. I hurry to help her.

"What's your name?" She puts her hand on my arm. I tense.

"Jeanette. Yours?"

"I'm Harry. Is that it?" I change the subject, trying to find a way to get her touch off of me.

"Yeah." Jeanette pulls back a tarp and I gape at the motorcycle. It's even prettier in person. She takes it the wrong way though and thinks my amazement is directed towards her.

"My father's gone. He won't be home for a while." She moves closer to me and puts her hand on my chest. I gulp uncomfortably.

"Do I make you nervous Harry?" Her head comes close to mine and I can feel her breath on my face. I grimace.

"Uncomfortable really," I correct in the nicest way possible.

I head over to the bike and turn it on, it sounds good. "Do you mind if I drive it around a little? To test it out." She nods briefly.

I sit down and Jeanette moves to allow me to drive past her and out into the gravel driveway. I press the gas and the motorcycle responds, moving faster than I've ever gone before. I smile and tears flow out of my eyes from the cold wind.

I drive around until my hands are numb and Jeanette seems too furious to wait any longer. She must not be used to being turned down.

I stop besides her and get off. "It's good." Is all I'm able to say.

She frowns and motions to the motorcycle. "Go ahead. It's not going to wheel itself." Her tone is rather rude.

I do as I'm told and push the motorcycle by its handle towards my car. Jeanette follows me with her arms crossed.

She doesn't help at all except to push at a wheel to help hoist it into the trunk. I pant in effort. The motorcycle is heavy.

I pull the trunk door down and she leans against the car, pouting.

I reach into my pocket and pull out the money I owe her dad. She takes it without a word.

 "Are you gay or something?" She spits.

"I have a boyfriend." I throw back at her. "What's so wrong with that."

And without another glance back at her I leave with my new motorcycle.

✖

It was a lie. I don't know what got into me but I felt suddenly defensive when she asked me if I was gay. I wasn't offended with being called gay, it was the way she said it as if being gay was a disease.

Screw her. Screw her homophobia and screw that damn jean jacket she kept trying to take off.

I'm so mad in the car that by the time I get home I realize that I haven't given one thought to Louis Tomlinson.

It's a lie that I force myself to believe.