PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Twenty Five

A/N - while editing this chapter I opened up my "detail bible" and remembered that I made the decision that Alice is going to be taking college courses, but not fully going away or being a full time student. Of course I realized this 8 hours after I had posted that chapter where she says she's never going to college. I went back and changed it, but for the few of you who read it before I did, I wanted to slip this little author's note in so you wouldn't be terribly confused. Thank you.

♡♡♡

And I've been thinking

Can we be alone?

Can we be alone?

When will we get the time to be just friends

♡♡♡

Alice's P.O.V.

September 8th 1997

Harry Styles is everything I have ever wanted in the world. And he was on the phone with me.

"Hello?"

"Hey. It's me."

"Harry?" I ask softly. It was about 11:30pm and my dad was asleep. I couldn't afford to wake him up. Especially because I was up talking to a boy. Harry's no ordinary boy though.

"You got other guys calling you this late at night?"

"And if I did?" My stomach was doing cartwheels. Why was he calling me? I know I gave him my number but I wasn't expecting him to call this soon, or like at all. Is he flirting with me? What. Is. Happening.

"Can't say I wouldn't be a little jealous. I'm a little hurt that you didn't look me up when you got back into town."

My head is spinning in circles and those circles are spinning and circles, like those carnival rides my parents never let me go on. I'm shocked at this confession. I didn't think he'd even remember me, let alone wish I had contacted.

A memory of the last night I saw him flashes through my mind and burns in the pit of my stomach. He certainly didn't remember me that night. Not that it mattered. Harry still had a huge place in my heart, and he always will. Maybe it's my imagination, but none of the boys I met in Europe ever compared. My friends would try to push me to go out and party with them. And I did sometimes, but every time I tried to go after a boy, I would think of Harry, here in America and get sad. I knew he wasn't waiting for me, and maybe that made me pathetic, but my heart had attached itself to him, and that wasn't something I could easily give up.

Who am I kidding? I know Harry better than he thinks, mostly because I have spent most of my life thinking about him. And, in the least creepy way possible, observing him. He puts up this tough persona, trying to get people to think he doesn't care about anyone. My own father told me to stay away from him because he heard through the grapevine that Harry was, "a playboy." But I knew that wasn't true.

Other than the incident that pulled me away from him, I know Harry is sweeter than pie. My father swore that moving to Europe had nothing to do with what happened that night, but my heart knew it did. I don't think my mother ever forgave me.

It was a misunderstanding, and I don't even know if Harry remembers what happened. I couldn't blame him. Even if I found out that Harry was the one who paid my father to move us across the world, I still wouldn't blame him. He's too good for all this, but so guarded. I wish he would open up to me.