Alone

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Watching everyone, including the freshman, trying to find their classes on time always makes me laugh. It's just as fun as watching them move into the dorms. Although as the semester continues, the franticness stops and the dazed stares of sleep deprived students begin.

Classes haven't even began yet for me and I've already lost all my patience. Between the psychos in the parking lot and the groups of students slowly trekking their way to class, gave me the urge to punch a hole in a wall.

By the time I reached Kimmy's building, I nearly skipped inside because no one was to be found. I walk in to see her sitting cross-legged on her bed getting everything ready for today. The slam of the door seems to pull her out of her overly prepared state.

"Jeez Harry, you scared me." She chuckles clearing off her bed. "You can sit here."

"Thanks," I mumble climbing onto the uncomfortable, tiny ass bed.

Across the room sits an empty bed, a few posters hung upon the wall and stacks of books and textbooks on the desk. Everything of Izzy's has some sort of color, mainly bright ones. Damn that's sickening. Teal, blue and pink threw up on her side while Kimmy is the complete opposite. I can't imagine someone being so stubborn to be so colorful.

"Where's your roommate?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Either class or shower, I'm not sure." She says while adjusting her current position.

I can only imagine Izzy walking into the room wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair glistening under the lights, while access water drips down her sleek back. The towel that acted as a wall now pools at her feet exposing everything she was hiding. Rough punches hit my arm, quickly knocking me out of my day dream. That's all it is, right?

"Harry are you okay?" Kimmy asks concerned.

"Yeah, I'm just thinking that's all." I say trying to play off the fact I just day dreamed about her roommate being naked.

"Good, cause I've been meaning to talk to you, about Izzy." Shit, shit, shit. "Don't hurt her."

"What?"

"You heard me. I saw how you acted around her when you met and when you asked about her at the party. Everyone else may have ignored it but I didn't." Kimmy said not breaking eye contact. She just called you out on your shit.

"She's not my type." I say not breaking the intense eye contact.

"Bullshit. I saw how you looked at her. I was here when she came running into the room last night crying, and I knew you had something to do with it." Damn, she really knows who I am. "Now I have class. You can stay here or leave. I don't know when she'll be back. But if you decide to keep going after her, don't hurt her or there will be consequences." And with that, she left.

No one has ever called me out like that. I know of my history, partly which is why I'm living where I am, when it comes with girls. Half of the shit I told Izzy she needed to hear. I let go of a breath I didn't even know I was holding as I laid down on Kimmy's bed. Why am I the way I am? The loneliness and silence that fills the room calms me and leave me to think about the recent conversation. I finally get to feel a sense of relief, until I take my hands off my face to see a certain curly, blonde haired girl turning around.

"You know Kimmy isn't here, right?" She said stating the obvious.

"Well hello to you too." I say as I feel a smirk forming on my face, only getting an eye roll in return before she heads to her desk.

"Where's Kimmy?" She sighs before getting to her bed.

"Class," I say watching her flop onto her bed, doing everything in her power to keep her long dress down.

"Oh," She sighs again while laying her back onto the wall.

The silence filled the room faster than I expected. Both of us sat in the closet sized room in utter silence. It's eerie, really. Occasionally, she typed on her phone and I'd see a smile, an image I couldn't tear my eyes from. Strands of her hair fell around her face, her lips would start to curve into a small smile, only to turn into a beautiful, toothy grin before it all fades away when she put her phone down. I wonder who's making her smile like that. That could be you, my subconscious tells me. The silence breaks, after what felt like hours, with a sigh from Izzy as she looks out the window.

"You know, I never got the chance to say thank you the other night for what you did. Thank you." She says, her blue-grey eyes piercing into mine. All I could do was nod in response. I didn't know how to answer her. I thought she'd never say those words to me. Looks like someone can actually be nice. Thinking about that makes me chuckle.

"What's so funny?" She asks looking confused. Crap.

"Nothing," I say, trying to brush it off.

"Just tell me." She prods

"I didn't expect you to thank me for yesterday." I say with a slight chuckle.

"How is that funny?"

"Cause you've been nothing but rude since then." Her soft stare became hard in the blink of an eye as she clenches her jaw.

"I've been rude to you?! You've been nothing but mean to me every time we have a conversation!" She screams. "And I'm the rude one." She scoffs while getting off her bed.

I stare at her for a second before I burst out laughing. She seriously doesn't see it? After rolling around Kimmy's bed laughing my ass off, I open my eyes to see Izzy staring down at me. The blue and white striped strapless dress-I hate how I know what those are-that reaches the floor slightly hugs the top of her because her hands are firmly planted on her hips. Her tits slightly spilling out of the top, making me want to pull down the dress, to expose them completely. Get that thought out of your head, you gross fuck. Heavily lined eyes peer down at me like a parent would do to their child when they do something wrong.

"You're rude." She states firmly. "I'm just standing up for myself."

"At least I don't touch other people's things." I sit up getting eye level with her.

"You wanna know why I touched your guitar?"

"Oh do tell." I say resting my face on my hands acting and sounding like a girl about to hear some gossip.

"It was the only thing my dad left behind before abandoning me and my mom." She said trying to contain herself.

Looks like we actually have something in common. Her response caught me off guard yet again, leaving me speechless. I continue to stare off even after she walked away, not knowing what to do or say. Her dad may have left her and her mum, but she has no clue how bad it could've been. The room became silent yet again, besides the opening and closing of the drawers on her desk before she left without another word spoken.



The gym on campus is always crowded around 5 or 6pm everyday, except the weekends. I do my best to go when the rush dies down; I can't stand being around too many douchebags at once. The events from earlier keep playing through my head on repeat. From her being happy on her phone to us screaming at one another yet again. For a little bit we were civil and it actually felt nice. But of course I had to screw it up yet again. Why am I actually caring so much about this? I've been running on the treadmill for a half hour, just to get as much frustration out as I could. It's better if I punch something, but this'll do. I would use the gym that's at Mary and Patrick's, but 1) it's only for Patrick to use and 2) I can't use it late at night, which is the only time I can. My jog becomes a sprint in the matter of minutes, only for me to turn off the machine before falling off.

Leaving the gym, I see each text Reagan sent me asking to come over. I ignore them, not in the mood to deal with her crap. Walking down the long hallway that has medals, awards and acknowledging coaches and some of the sports teams, if they won anything over the years. Suddenly, I hear the muffled sound of music nearby. Is that...piano music? A few doors down later, the muffled noise sounds louder to find out it's coming from a dance room I didn't know we had. Opening the door slowly and as quietly as I could, I see someone moving swiftly from one movement to the other. Is that Izzy? Her black tank top and work out pants cling to her body perfectly, hitting all the curves she has. I stand in the corner of the room that I can hide in and just watch her dance. "Clair de Lune" pours out of the speakers as she nails each turn, jump and pose throughout her dance. The song ends and before my brain can tell me otherwise, I start clapping causing her to jump.

"Can you stop following me?" She says turning off the music.

"I wasn't. I heard Debussy and wondered where it came from." I said walking towards her.

"You know classical music?" She asks sounding extremely shocked.

"Shocker isn't it."

"What do you want?"

"Nothing. I didn't know you dance."

"Yea, well now you know." She huffs while taking off her complicated shoes.

"Which style are those for?" I ask indicating to the death trap devices on her feet.

"Ballet, they're pointe shoes." She says blandly. "What do you want?" She snaps again. Ouch.

"Nothing," I say sitting down next to her. I really suck at small talk, shit.

"Can you leave?" She asks while fiddling with the knotted ribbon. "Son of a bitch." She mutters before throwing her hands up in surrender.

"Here," I say taking the ribbon and untying it with ease.

"Thanks," She mumbles taking off her shoes. "You never answered my question. Are you gonna call me rude again?" She peers up at me through the tops of her glasses.

"No," I say not knowing how to keep this conversation going. "Teach me a dance."

"What?" She probably thinks I'm on something.

"Teach me a dance." I repeat.

"Fine, one dance and that's it." She says getting her speaker out and picking a song.

The odd indy sounding song comes through the speakers before she stops it.

"Just follow what I do, okay?" She asks and I nod my head.

She stands a small distance in front of me. What am I even doing? She starts dancing with what seems like a simple move, but I manage to make it as difficult as possible. I play guitar, I don't do this crap. As soon as Izzy changes moves, I'm lost. I shove my hands into the pockets on my gym shorts and stare at her in the mirror, confused as can be.

"Can't keep up there?" She calls over the music still dancing.

"It's confusing." I say back getting her to smile.

"I could've made it harder, you know."

We both are standing in the middle of the room not doing anything or moving. The annoying song still plays and I move closer to her. Grabbing her hands in mine, I surprise her by spinning her into me. I was forced to partner dance when I was younger for no reason, just because Mary thought I should learn it. The more we dance, the bigger her smile gets. I even catch myself getting a goofy grin too. As the song ends, her giggling is on and off and it's one of the best noises I've ever heard. I spin her in towards me one last time. Her eyes sparkle under the fluorescent lights while little pieces of hair have come out of her ponytail. Her plump, pink lips are parted ever so slightly, but enough to hear her breathing has picked up. I rest my hand against her cheek, stroking her soft skin with my thumb causing her eyes to flutter close. When they open again, her eyes are dilated, causing me to smirk. I lean in and right as my lips brush her..."Harry!" squeaks Reagan as she walks into the room. Izzy jumps out of my hold and looks at her feet while fiddling with her fingers.

"Hi Reagan," I sigh as I give an apologetic look to Izzy.

Her large black heels clack against the floor as she gets closer to me. She plants a kiss to my cheek and plays with the curls on my neck, acting like Izzy isn't in the room. Or if she knows, she's doing this on purpose. Reagan continues to hang on me and try to be affectionate until the slam of the door causes me to look up. Did she really just leave?

"What a quiet little thing." Reagan starts. "I feel bad for Kimmy for having to live with her. You really weren't about to kiss her, were you?" She asks in a bitchy tone.

"No," I snap at her. Yes.

"Then why are you hard?" I look down to see the obvious bulge in my shorts and her hand slowly making its way to it. "Come on, I can take care of that for you." She says grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the room, purposely swishing her ass that her jeans hug. Even though she's trying to do that so I'm distracted, the only thing I'm worrying about now is: Is Izzy okay?