Sweet Tooth [HS]

EIGHTEEN

(^^ how I picture Finn (Ross Lynch btw what a hottie lolol)!)

Later.

Max couldn't help her nerves as she hesitated awkwardly outside Lola's door.

All day she'd been ignoring this gnawing sensation inside that was telling her this was a bad idea. She'd suppressed it as much as she could, distracted herself with shopping and Lexie and taking a shameful amount of time to get ready. But she couldn't ignore it now.

Max was terrified. Was running through worse-case scenarios that always ended in the world finding out she was sleeping with Harry and her life ending forever. She could see tabloids picking her apart already. Could hear the names they might call her. Could see Finn's face looming there in the back of her mind, casting a long, dark shadow with his eyes all big and soft and hurt.

And so Max was panicking. She was stressed and suffocating on her own anxiety as she paced back and forth in front of the door.

She needed to rationalise with herself.

Max stopped her pacing and pressed her temples with her hands.

She knew that whether she liked it or not, Harry fucking Styles was going to be in her vicinity very fucking soon.

What she didn't know, however, was what the fuck was going to happen.

Harry didn't really go out in public. He didn't go to parties like this, with real, living, normal people. She had seen glimpses of his life online, had seen it in the tabloids and Max knew that what Harry Styles was used to now looked like gorgeous girls doing cocaine and wearing expensive clothes in huge mansions somewhere in Hollywood.

Would he judge her normal-ness? Would he find the simplicity of it all too boring, too plain?

Max just didn't know. Had never felt so insecure, so unsure in her life.

She'd never been out with him so publically like this, hadn't left the safety of her flat with him for years- not since before he became the Harry Styles. This was all new to her.

Would he end up drowning in strangers, who wanted Instagrams or autographs? Would he end up getting flattened by a stampede of horny girls who saw in him exactly what Max saw? Who were guilty of a bordering-insane obsession with his green eyes or that gritty tone of his voice or the colour of his fucking eyelashes?

Would he forget about Max?

God.

That was really it. That was the real stinger.

Because Max was scared, actually terrified that Harry would forget about her.

He had done it before, all those years ago when he had loved her and had left her and had scooped out her heart in the brutal, bloody process.

Had left her there stinging with her blind hope that maybe he would come back.

Had left her stuck not knowing how to want anybody else.

Had left her with half of her soul in the palms of his fucking hands.

Max sighed. She leant against the door that felt like it was shaking from the music pulsing from behind it, and she had to fight the urge to cry.

Come on, Max, she repeated in her head. Don't think about that. Pull yourself together.

She realised she had to go in.

She needed to stop getting fucking sidetracked.

So she took a deep breath.

She could do this. She didn't care. She was Mackenzie fucking Sweet and she looked beautiful and she. could. do. this.