Paper Birds

Chapter Eight ; Don't Take Any Chances

Harry took me home in his limo. I might have enjoyed it if not given the circumstances, but I still had to admit; it was pretty nice. There was about a billion people crowding the streets, and their stupid camera flashes were blinding me. I hated attention. I would never be good as a celebrity, no matter how much training I went through.

I had no idea what would happen next. I told Harry that I wanted to go home and forget this whole thing ever happened, though that was the biggest lie I've ever told, and I've told a lot of lies. He knew I was lying but didn't mention it. I could tell by the tired, pained look in his that this wasn't the last time I would see him in person. When his green eyes flickered to me, I quickly looked away. He was gorgeous. And he liked me. So, bonus.

But I knew it would never work. He was a pop star, loved by all, and meanwhile I was a little seventeen year old getting over a broken heart. And then there's Louis. Louis would never allow me to be with him, even if he was okay with it. I would certainly not be okay with it. All of a sudden, Abby's voice popped into my head. Louis was twenty-two now. I remember this because she called me on Christmas Eve and had a complete seizure about it. That meant he was five years older than me. That was a lot. I mean, my parents are a whopping eleven years apart, but it just felt weird for some reason. Harry was only eighteen, going on nineteen soon. Again Abby's voice told me that this was true.

My heart sank when they limo pulled up to my street. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want this to be over. I would never want it to be over. But I guess I would have to get over it, like how I almost got over Jared. Kind of.

I grabbed Harry's hand, swallowing as massive crowds formed by our house. Our eyes met, but only for a moment before he pulled his away, twisted pain written all over his face. My bottom lip quivered. Why do things have to be this way?

When we finally got to our house in the middle of the street, shoving all of the paparazzi out of the way, I jerked back. Robbie was going to murder me alive. I hated seeing him disappointed in me, even though I knew it was my fault. I could've ended it sooner, I thought. I could've prevented all of this pain, but no. I'm way too incredibly greedy to even think of such a thing. Always wanting more, and more, and more..

Harry pulled me towards the door, towards him. He gripped my wrists, and even though the one was hurt, possibly broken, I couldn't feel any pain except for the agony in my heart. It was unbearable.

His lip twitched, and I could tell he was trying to think of something to say. The police have gotten a lot of the crowd under control, but some crazy girls were either shouting curses at me or yelling, "Kiss her! Kiss her, Harry!" 

And believe me, despite everything I had going with Louis, I wanted him to. Why? I don't know. I made my brown eyes plead up at him, but he simply released me. He walked back to the vehicle, head down, back facing me. And he was gone.

----

"Clarissa. Claire. Clairedy."

I still don't understand, to this day, why my family calls me Clairedy. Like, "clarity" or something? I laughed in my mind. My life was anything but clear.

"So, you snuck out last night, went to a concert, had an affair with one of the band members, and expect us to take you back and forgive you?"

I was very, very grateful that he hadn't learned about the gambling yet. Jonah was the only one who vaguely suspected that I had some sort of problem, but never asked me about it.

"It wasn't an affair," I growled, fists gripping the edge of the wooden chair I was sitting on. Well, it kind of was an affair, but we didn't do anything. It wasn't this scandalous fling that everyone had seemed to make it out to be.