Lone [MATURE HS]

Chapter 28.

By the time Harry was out of the shower, I had already looked through most of the loft to see if I could find any dead giveaways that someone was watching. I didn't know what they looked like but by the mess I made, I turned everything upside down and over again, and again to make sure I made a proper inspection. And a proper mess.

To say the least, Harry was incredibly pissed. "What are you doing?" He exasperates, growing angry when I continue to open kitchen cabinets. My back turned to him, I can only sense him moving towards me, and expecting it when he grabs my hands from the cabinets and takes them in his. I'm pulled away from the furniture. "I'm slowly losing my temper," he warns in a low murmur, narrowed green eyes watching me with little effort to intimidate, but he was doing that just fine. "What. Are you. Doing?"

"Looking for cameras. Mics. Anything," I admit flatly, having lost the emotional reaction to the whole situation. What was left was irritation, trepidation, complete and utter...anger.

Harry just blinks, angry features softening as he gradually falls into slight confusion. Slightly wet hair from his shower falling just above his eyes. "What?" I don't answer, attempting to pull my hands from his grip, but he tightens them and snaps, "Let's start with why you've been ignoring me and just smashed your phone on my bathroom floor...hm?"

"Seriously...," I remark, "What is it with men gripping me like I'm a rag doll?" My slight allusion to Keth isn't discrete and Harry knows that, face hurt for a second and he lets go of me.

"Stop. Don't say shit like that...you just want to piss me off," he whispers almost to himself, raising a hand to rub against his eyes and nose. I instantly feel bad for comparing him to someone like Keth.

"You're right."

"You want to talk...let's do that. Unless you want to argue because if so, the door's at your service," he says weakly, almost exhausted by the conversation already.

"We're being dicks to each other right now. I'm sorry, okay? I've been avoiding you, ignoring your calls and texts...I've been...lying to you, everything's not okay," I manage to say firmly, furrowing my eyebrows. Harry looks me in the eyes, steady and unfazed. He already knew that. "And I'm honestly so tired of it. You're going to react either one of two ways...and I just.." My voice trails off.

"Does it have to do with the articles? My parents?" Harry asks dryly.

I'm not even surprised he could guess the relativity. "Yes...and to put it bluntly, you're not going to like it," I exhale, adding, "You might get pissed."

"I've gotten used to that," he responds quietly, nearly rolling his eyes as he glides his tongue against the inside of his cheek, setting his jaw tightly. "What is it? Just tell me."

My eyes watch him carefully, slowly and lowly stating, "Since two weeks...I've been receiving text messages from someone." He tenses, and just as I'm about to add to that, Harry shakes his head and turns around, walking towards the messy bed of white sheets. My eyebrows furrow. "Harry...I was going to add to that--"

"I know what you're going to say," he calls, pulling a drawer open. I don't see what he's getting yet, his body blocking my view.

My face is paling. Throat drying. "What?" I question just beneath my breath. "You know that some stalker has been texting me repeatedly? Scaring the absolute shit out of me? You know that I'm convinced it's the same guy writing the articles about your father?"

Harry doesn't respond, rummaging through his drawers. My eyes go so wide, I'm afraid they'll pop right out of my head when I see him pull out a black object. Jet-black, shape recognizable to anyone who's either watched TV or been a criminal. My heart pushes up my throat, and he turns. I'm frozen slightly, watching his movements. "Why do you think I keep this?" He murmurs.