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I’d spank him to hell and back!
Who am I kidding… I miss that boy so much.
As Harrison leaned back in his big, vintage armchair, he took a sip on his glass of whiskey. The whiskey had been a gift from Zane, a bottle that he had picked up while doing some work in Scotland.
In theory, it was a tipple that Harrison would have relished. However, with Benji not around and also the stress of the situation with the Dean, even whiskey was losing its appeal.
‘Fuck. I could just drink the whole damn bottle,’ Harrison lamented, putting the glass down on the polished desk. ‘But I wouldn’t enjoy a single damn drop.’
Harrison hated feeling like this.
This wasn’t how his life was meant to be. Since Benji had burst into his life, Harrison couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so consistently good about things.
But now it seemed like a dark cloud was hovering over Harrison – and with several more hours until night, it was shaping up to be another miserable afternoon alone in the study.
Harrison took another sip of the whiskey and as he felt it slipping down his throat, he stared at the computer screen. It wasn’t looking good.
‘Did I really just spend an hour writing this… crap?’ Harrison grumbled, his mood darkening. ‘And now I’m talking to myself. That’s just great!’
Before Harrison could chastise himself any further, he heard a knock at the front door. For a moment, Harrison considered the possibility that it might be the Dean coming over. After what had happened in the Dean’s office, this really wasn’t a thought that Harrison could contemplate, and he felt tempted to simply ignore the knocking.
But… the knocking at the door continued.
And continued.
‘Jesus! I’m coming!’ Harrison bellowed, his patience seriously fraying. ‘One damn second!’
Harrison stomped his big, heavy feet out of the study and down the hallway toward the front door. To his relief, Harrison could see from the vague outline of the person on the other side of the frosted glass that it wasn’t the Dean.
But that begged the question… who was it?
For a brief moment, Harrison thought it might just be Benji. His hopes were dashed however when he opened the door and was faced by Lars – a worried looking Lars too…
‘What’s up, kid?’ Harrison said, standing to one side and gesturing for a concerned seeming Lars to enter. ‘Something tells me this is to do with Benji…’
Harrison took a step back so that he wasn’t too up close and personal with Lars. Harrison knew he could be an imposing, intimidating figure for Littles and didn’t want to make Lars feel any more uneasy than he already looked.
Lars was wearing his white lab coat underneath his jacket, which suggested to Harrison that he had come over to the house in something of a rush. That wasn’t a good sign, and Harrison just had to say something to make Lars speak…
‘Okay, okay, how about some milk and cookies?’ Harrison said, walking toward the kitchen and beckoning Lars along too. ‘I could do with something to crunch on. I’m sure you could too, you look like you’ve run here?’
Lars sat at the kitchen table and waited for his milk and cookies. Harrison noticed that Lars was fiddling with his fingers, every part of him appearing to be on edge.
‘It’s okay, you can talk freely,’ Harrison said.
‘B… B… But I don’t want to get Benji in trouble,’ Lars said, breaking his silence as he took a sip of oat milk from the big red mug.
‘You won’t. Don’t worry about that,’ Harrison said. ‘Benji is my boy and if he’s in trouble, I need to know. Don’t you worry about a thing. Now… speak.’
Harrison was being firm, but also sensitive to how uncertain Lars appeared to be. Fortunately, his carefully authoritative tone worked and Lars began to speak.
‘Well, the thing is…’ Lars said. ‘Something’s just not as it should be. We were messaging and…’
‘Go on.’
‘Well…,’ Lars said, crunching on a cookie. ‘It’s like this…’
Lars went on to explain that the pair of them had been messaging on and off. Benji hadn’t seemed happy at all, and without directly saying it was to do with Tucker, it definitely seemed that way to Lars.
