the journal - h.s.

82

82

[amber’s pov]

I felt his warm hand in mine and it assured me that he was somewhat okay. Or at least as okay as you could be with a bruised face like that. His bottom lip had busted in one side, his left cheekbone was terribly red; it would most likely turn into a dark purple color within a few hours, and the knuckles on his right hand were scratched too. The blood had started to coagulate. I tried not to think about how Harry could possibly have lost it like that; enough to make so much damage.

We crossed over the street and I felt his thumb caress slow circles into my hand as he followed along behind me. My eyes sought over the uplit hotel entrance; it looked terribly modern and insanely expensive. The lower part of the building was a delicate cream white color where soft shadows were created as the fairy lights in the ceiling of the black half marquee fell over the scenery. I could see through the grand double glass door entrance how similar soft warm lighting was inside the place; the same use of cream color against pitch black being used too.

We finally reached the pavement on the other side, but I could feel Harry suddenly pull me to a stop. With questioning eyes I turned to him and noticed the strained expression, “is something wrong?”

“Well,” his green eyes escaped to his feet before they looked up briefly to something behind me at the hotel entrance. I followed his gaze half turning, dragging my eyes off of him. And right there at the entrance standing formally and with a terribly straight back was - well a member of the hotel staff. Or maybe doorman would be the proper expression for his position. But with the broad shoulders, his clenched jaw, and simply the way Harry had pulled me to a stop - told me this huge guy, who was wearing only black - was probably more than just a doorman.

“You got into a fight with that guy,” I whispered harshly and stared up at my boyfriend with a horrified expression. Trying very hard not to picture Harry one on one with a guy as huge as that guard. Sure Harry was tall - but this guy was a bull.

“Well,” he stated again peeking up at me with a half smirk.

I nudged him a little too hard in his side for it to be gentle, “what the hell were you thinking!”

“Hey - the other guy wasn’t that big - he was just an idiot and,” he started his green innocent eyes were contradictory to his growing smirk with the busted lip and his bruised cheekbone.

“The other guy?” I almost gasped the words. He couldn’t stop chuckling. Chuckling. “What the hell, Harry!” I looked back at the guard standing by the door. He didn’t look at us and he most certainly couldn’t hear my tense whispering.

“Sorry -” Harry stated softly, as he brushed a strand of hair away from the side of my face carefully. I looked back up at him with shocked eyes taking in his bruised face again, which was the result of his well … complete lack of selfcontrol apparently.

“Thing is; I’m not sure I’m … welcome anymore for tonight at least,” he nodded towards the entrance, while a crooked smile haunted his wounded lips. I couldn’t help the easy grin over his craziness to sneak in as well, “I thought you were supposed to be the clever and responsible one!”

I watched him shrug in response, as his eyes rested perfectly relaxed on me. He seemed so calm right now. I couldn't even imagine him out of control.

“I guess everyone has their limits,” a sigh escaped his smiling lips and his entire posture seemed to fall a little together at the act. He seemed terribly tired too - calm but exhausted.

“Please just tell me you at least didn’t start it?” My hand flew up to cover my mouth, as the grin only spread wider. I couldn’t help it. He was so impossible. So mature and yet so irrational. He was so clever and yet so endlessly stupid sometimes. He was just a boy falling together. Cracking that perfect image his father had created for him - even though he did it in all the wrong ways. But at least he was okay. Okay for now. It could have been even worse.