CHAPTER EIGHT
The door isn’t all the way open, but I can see Harry’s face, so without thinking, I snap my fingers before the door can open all the way. His eyes are absolutely huge, almost like he’d just seen a ghost.
Oh, wait.
He sprints forward to the exact place that I am and squats down to look straight at me, but luckily I’m invisible. Nonetheless, his body is kind of close to meeting mine, and I want to move, but I have a feeling he would follow me and then he’d know for sure I am here. Who knows, he could think it was just a hallucination like he was saying yesterday with his friends.
It sounds horrible that I wish that would happen, but I still don’t know what to say to him. If I knew what to do, I would totally snap my fingers once again and tell him, but I don’t and I don’t want him to get scared.
He then moves forward, his hand going right through my stomach and I hold back the sound of pain flowing through my body. My eyes clench shut as he moves and twists it around. I open one eye to see that his arm is really cold due to all the goose bumps and the paleness. That’s probably why he keeps moving it, because his friend Niall said something about it.
Then his hand moves really quickly and that’s finally when I let out a small shriek. Harry retraces his hands quickly, holding them against his chest and looking kind of sorrowful in my direction.
“I-I know you’re in here,” He says, “And I know that you’ll have to show yourself at some point, so I’ll just wait, I guess.” He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back, looking around the area I’m sitting.
His “tough guy” façade doesn’t faze me in anyway, so I roll my eyes and cross my arms also, sitting back and looking at him.
That’s when I decide that he can just sit in here and I’ll find another place, so I get up carefully and walk through the door, ignoring the stomach ache I get, and walk to the kitchen, leaning against the island and looking at Harry’s back. I’ll just stay here for a while because he’ll have to leave for classes soon anyway, unless…
“And I’m not leaving for classes,” Harry says, “I just want to—you know, meet you.”
“Me too.” I whisper under my breath, too soft for Harry to hear.
I look over at the island and sure enough, there’s the note Harry had written earlier. Deciding it’ll be more entertaining to read instead of staring at a wall and Harry’s back, I walk closer to the slip of paper and move it closer to me, looking over at Harry first.
What do you mean? And what do I, O, L, and V mean?
Then at the end it says:
Oh, and thank you. I’m glad you like my cooking.
There’s tons of unneeded smiley faces, and I try to look past it and focus on what to write back.
What do I mean by we both will soon? I’ve been telling myself that I should figure something out and write a speech in my head of what to say to Harry. I’ve been telling myself that Harry is great and that he’ll act cool if he sees me. He’s said that he wants to help me, and I’m too big of a coward to confront him. All the facts are there and absolutely clear that Harry is—in simplest terms—the one. He acts reliable and has freaked out once already and still lives in the flat.
Why can’t I see that everything is right in front of me and that I should show Harry who I am before he decides I’ve taken too long?
That thought scares me, and I can’t bare to think about it. What if I take too long? What if he decides that he doesn’t need to live with this crap in this crappy flat that has a crappy ghost with a crappy history?
