Thirteen

I hate Harper because he always brought out a weak side of me, a side I have never been fond of. I have always been proud of the fact that I could school my emotions and stand tall whenever a problem came my way.

But with him, all this control somehow goes down the drain. I never considered myself a control freak and I never wanted people to bow down to me, or listen to every word I say. The only thing I wanted was to never appear weak in front of anyone. I never wanted anyone to emotionally exploit me or know what was going on in my head.

In short, I never wanted to be vulnerable in front of anyone. People take advantage of you if they come to know about the chinks in your armor and I didn't want that. I wasn't a superhero; I knew I had weaknesses but that doesn't mean I was keen on showing them to anyone. I would much rather prefer to don a carefree and strong mask like everyone else in the world.

I rarely cried in front of anyone or because of anyone's actions. Well, except Harper. 

He had already made me cry twice in a month, once at his birthday party and today, at the bakery.

So, it wasn't exactly a surprise that I didn't want to see him. It was probably the very first time in my life that I didn't want to go to Nat's house. I wish I hadn't messaged my father about my plans for the night. At least, then I would've had a reason to ask Nat to drop me back at the bakery, so I could go back to my house. To my haven.

I didn't want to ask Nat to drop me back, because she would know that something was wrong. I didn't want to appear weak in front of my friends and Harper. 

I wanted to show them that I could hold my ground and that I wouldn't be intimidated by Harper. 

I was ready to face them all.

I didn't know what else Harper wanted to say to me. If he wanted nothing to do with me, our exchange at the bakery should have been the last. He made it clear. He wanted me out of his sight and I was more than ready to oblige.

But I wouldn't tolerate it if he planned to insult me again, and that too, in front of my friends.

I mentally pictured myself wearing my big girl panties, donning battle armor, and becoming ready to face Harper.

Nat parked her car in the driveway. I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car. We both walked towards the front door of the mansion. I stood beside her while she opened the door and we both walked in.

Usually, Nat's house was filled with maids bustling around and doing their chores, but today, the house was eerily silent. As I walked into the living room, all the while following Nat, I couldn't help but notice that the house felt too big and empty, and the thought made me uncomfortable.

The living room was styled like the rest of the house. The furniture was the perfect blend of Victorian and modern themes. The walls were painted peach and couches were placed around a center table. Various vases and other decorative times were placed around the room. The room was too big, in my opinion. To each their own, I guess.

Harper was sitting on one of the beige-colored couches, his elbows on his knees and his expression one of deep thought.

Samantha sat across from him and was picking at her nails. It was a nervous habit that I had identified after years of friendship.

When we entered the room, both of them looked up.

Before either of us could take a seat, Sam stood up from her seat and hugged me hard, while Harper had his gaze fixed on me. I didn't dare meet his eyes because I didn't want to see his face or his intense green eyes.

Nat took her seat on the couch beside Harper and I didn't miss the nonexistent space between them. Brushing the thought aside, I took the seat farthest from Harper in another armchair beside Sam.

Silence descended in the room. I wasn't in any mood to speak first, as I had no idea why I was here in the first place. Scratch that, I knew why I was here, I was here to spend a good night at Nat's house. The only odd person in the room was Harper, who I had never seen here before, and had wanted to "talk" with me.

"Who told you about us?" Harper's voice came out sharp and deathly. He looked calm, but I could see his tense shoulders and alert form, ready to pounce and kill Its prey.

His aura screamed danger and my hand subconsciously went to my elbow, where his fingers had left angry purple bruises. His eyes followed my movement and when they landed on my elbow, they lingered a second longer. Regret flashed through his eyes once again and he clenched his fists. Before he could look at me, I diverted my gaze to Nat. I scoffed at his fake concern and rolled my eyes.

"What?" My voice came out steady and I was surprised because I was feeling anything but. Three pairs of eyes stared intently at me, eager for my answer. But the question itself didn't make any sense. What the hell was I supposed to know about them? How was I supposed to know anything if nobody would tell me?

If it was possible, Harper's gaze turned colder than I had ever seen before. "I won't repeat my question. Who the fuck told you about us?"

Harper looked like he was controlling a beast caged within himself. I wasn't probably too far from the truth with the way the vein in his forehead was pulsating.

I looked at Nat and then Sam, they were both looking at me, waiting for me to speak. Would it be okay to say I was a little afraid?

"What am I supposed to know?" I felt like an idiot sitting there. Today had been full of weird exchanges and I wanted this one to end. I had no idea what these three were talking about and by the way they were looking at me, I should have had some inkling.

Sam was the first one to speak after an uncomfortable silence of a few minutes. "I told you she doesn't know. We didn't tell her and she doesn't talk to anyone else."

Did she just say that I was a loner?!

Harper groaned and ran a frustrating hand over his face and through his hair, messing it up more. 

"I would like to talk to Zara alone." His voice was rough and determined. 

I started to protest, but before I could speak anything, Nat and Sam were already heading out of the room.  Both of them gave me apologetic glances and quickly walked towards the doors.

What the hell?!

Whatever he planned to do, I wasn't going to cave and act like a weak damsel in distress. I had every intention of telling his bipolar ass to leave me alone and mind his own business.

When the door closed softly behind them, I turned my gaze towards Harper once again. His face was blank and his expression was hard. I would probably fail if I ever tried the same intense and intimidating expression.

"Can you repeat whatever you said to me in the bakery?" It wasn't a question; it was a demand. Putting the word Can was just a formality.

"Is that what this is about?" I arched an eyebrow. What was so important about what I said, was that he had to take time out of his busy schedule to come and meet me here. I sighed. "You heard me the first time, Harper. I'm not going to repeat it." And sound like a lunatic.

All I wanted now, was to go home as fast as possible. This conversation was tiring me. I could picture my energy being sucked by Harper.

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "Okay, I will make you a deal. If you answer my questions, I will let you leave."

I scoffed. "We aren't in middle school Harper. Do you think we are some middle school girls who would exchange secrets or favors and braid each other's hair? I'm not playing this game with you." I liked this confident part of me, the part who would never bow or obey Harper. Or anyone else.

He held up a finger in the air as if reprimanding me for being an impatient child. "And I will never, ever cross your path again." His face was expressionless, but his voice was filled with conviction. And the temptation to never interact with him was too much to ignore. At that exact moment, I wanted nothing more than to get away from him and never see him again in my life.

I sighed again. Whenever Harper was around, I sighed a lot. Another change Harper brought out in me. "I said, you shouldn't mark the girl you have in mind because the goddess forbids it." I gritted through my teeth.

Silence reigned in the room once again. I clasped my fingers together, put them in my lap, and waited for Harper to say something.

When he didn't say anything after some time, I took that as my cue to leave. 

I was beyond disappointed in my friends because they left me alone with Harper in the room. Granted they didn't know he could turn violent and harm me, like he did at the bakery, but they did know that I hated him and would rather do anything else than have a conversation with him.

When I was halfway towards the door, his voice resonated in the room again. "Who told you to say that?"

This was the question I was afraid of. The question I didn't want to answer. What was I supposed to say to that? A woman from my dream? 

I turned around to look at him. What loss would I suffer after telling Harper this? The real reason would probably give him even more motivation not to talk to me, which once again would work in my favor. And I had this gut feeling that I should tell him about my dreams. I was starting to hate these gut feelings.

Something in the way he was looking, compelled me to speak the truth and only the truth. And I did.

"I had a dream." My voice was barely a whisper, but I knew he heard me nonetheless because, in the next second, he was standing in front of me.

"What did you say?" His voice was strained like he was barely controlling himself. "Tell me everything." He looked me in the eyes and demanded it. He looked desperate and his voice was pleading. This was probably the first time that I had seen him a little shaken up.

Those pools of endless greens compelled me to speak the whole truth and I did just that. I told him about the dreams, the white woman, and her request to tell him to not mark some girl. I kept talking and only stopped when I reached the end of my story. Harper had held me in a trance which I think only broke when I had finished my story.

He listened intently throughout the whole narration without blinking an eye, as if he just couldn't believe what I was saying. 

I don't blame him; I don't believe myself.

When I stopped talking, he threw his head back, closed his eyes, and groaned out loud.  

I just stood there, dumbfounded again by his reaction, twice in a day. He had quite a habit of leaving me speechless.

He looked me in the eyes once again and sighed as if he weighed the world on his shoulders. He looked intently at me and opened his mouth to say something. He closed it immediately, shook his head in frustration, and ran out of the room. Again!

He is so damn frustrating.

Does he, like, have a habit of running away like this?