Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

2: Peak Bloodlust

Hello to Kennedy Walsh and Kennedy Walsh only.

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Kennedy Walsh's POV

(From here on out, it will be Kennedy's POV unless stated otherwise.)

Salem brushes up against me as I'm editing the video I'm supposed to post tomorrow. I push the laptop away and pick her up.

"Aww what's up, pussy? Need some lovin'?" I snort, laughing at my own dorkiness. God, I'm stupid. At least Salem doesn't understand me. If she did, I bet she would have run away long ago.

"Hey, can I borrow your clippers? I can't find mine," Claudia barges into my room and starts rummaging through my desk.

"Um, you have to bang your knuckles on that flat wooden surface before stepping inside."

"The door was open, Kennedy," I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "Where are your clippers?"

I decide against a retort. "It's somewhere there," I say, not really remembering where I put it last. Claudia starts banging the things on my desk, getting more frustrated by the moment. I laugh to myself and head towards her, dropping off Salem on the floor. "I thought you liked your nails long."

"I feel like a witch and not the hot kind," she shrugs. "Feel this," she wraps her hand around my arm, digging her nails into my skin. Pain starts reverberating all over my body and I immediately slapped her hand away. She chuckles.

"Ow!" I yelp, rubbing the area, "bitch." I jump back onto the bed and continue editing.

"Brandon told me about the New York thing," Claudia says out of the blue.

"He's such a snitch," I laugh, "so, he ran to you for support, what are you gonna do about it?" 

I feel a slap on my butt. I turn my head and see Claudia standing over me. "Did you just slap my butt?"

She nods, snorting, and laughing. A silent laugh erupts from me. You know, that kind where nothing comes out and you start clapping your hands like a fucking seal? That's the one.

"I have better things to do here in the house than in New York," I say in a British accent.

"Well, I hope you enjoy the house so much because Mom and I are going with him," she sings, voice fading away as she leaves my room. Wait—they're going too?

"Claudia," I yell, and she walks back into my room, "why's he taking you and Mom with him?"

She shrugs. "Don't know. To piss you off I guess," she smirks.

I squint my eyes at her. "When?"

The smug smile on her face shows she thinks I had already up and agreed. "Tuesday," she says.

"I'll think about it," I mutter, giving my attention back to my laptop, my mind running and wondering about the trip.

As soon as I hear her leaving, I stand up and head to my dresser, pulling out clothes and outfits for the trip. I pull out this cute, white, polka-dot dress and hold it up, facing Salem. "What do you think? Good enough for the big city?"

She turns away and jumps off of my bed. Snob. My gaze passes the hallway outside my door and I spot Claudia, with that god-awful smirk back on her face. I make faces at her and kick the door close. 

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The days pass by quickly. Today's Friday, I've already uploaded a video and am currently shooting a makeup look when Brandon comes into my room.

"Kennedy—" he stops when he sees the camera perched up, "oops," he grins.

"Brandon, I'm filming!" I groan out, rolling my eyes before turning around. "What, peasant?" I ask in a British accent.

"About that trip—" he starts, and I cut him off.

"Who says I'm going?"

"Claudia," his grin has a bit of doubt in it now, giving me a ton of satisfaction. One of my life's purposes, as I had discovered growing up, is pissing Brandon off. I just raise my brows at him. "Well, just in case you do decide to come, it's on Tuesday, we'll be staying for two days."

I groan. "But what about Salem?"

"Devorah can take care of her," Claudia butts in, popping out from nowhere.

"What are you gonna be doing in New York anyway?" I squint my eyes at Brandon, suspicious of his intentions. He'd never been one to insist on us coming with him since he could easily bring Cory and Nick. 

"He's making coin, yaw!" Claudia answers in a southern accent before leaving. I stop myself from laughing. She's such a crackhead sometimes.

"What," I chuckle, "are you bringing in the Walsh family entertainment all the way to the New York? I don't think New York's low enough to hire you as a gigolo."

"Ha-ha," he mocks, then rolls his eyes. "Just pack your things. We leave at five in the morning."

"Great," I say, facing the camera again, "we had to go when my bloodlust is at its peak."