small world

chapter 51

HARRY

After some much needed loving, Charlotte’s pretty little head hit the pillow and she was fast asleep in a sea of crisp white sheets in our hotel bedroom in Sydney. And even though I should have gotten the best night sleep ever, finally being able to collapse next to my girl, fall asleep next to her and wake up next to her, this wasn’t the case. For me, slipping into dreamland didn’t come that easily; my tired body was no match to my spinning head. I laid there for a long while with my back flat on the mattress and Charlie’s limp sleeping hand in mine while I stared blankly at the ceiling; barely visible in the darkness, it was like looking out at the ocean in the middle of the night: a murky abyss. I desperately tried to repress my thoughts, but when I closed my eyes to sleep, the last thing I saw were emerald green eyes, dark enough to send shivers up my spine and make my heart jump when Charlie’s arms wrapped around mine. Emma wasn’t just visiting me in Australia, but she found her way into my dreams, to which with her presence she created a nightmare.

Flashbacks to autumn when I’d sneak off with her and her friends, getting into drugs and different beds, not knowing where I was and more times than one, who I was. She made me lose myself; going out with her and chasing her down dark allies was like running from my life and myself and everything I had worked for. She talked me into danger and lust and now, every time I saw her or thought about her, little things that slipped into the dark depths of my mind would come creeping out into the dim light for only my eyes to see, but I feared it wasn’t long before spotlights illuminated all the mistakes I’d made with Emma.

Flashes of memory in a club or in my bed, rolling over only to find short blonde hair on the pillow where Charlie’s head should have laid. Oftentimes I wondered how far things actually went with Emma, thinking back to what I had hoped would be our last encounter in the coffee shop after sneaking out of her apartment she had admitted to slipping things into my drink and singlehandedly turned me into somebody that I didn’t even recognize when I looked in the mirror. All those times with her were such a blur; I couldn’t even completely piece together what actually happened and what didn’t. I can only remember the hung over mornings after when my friends and family would look at me with disappointed eyes. I still remember crawling back home after I’d spent the night at Emma’s flat. I can still hear Charlie’s sobs and her screams, telling me she couldn’t do this anymore, and she didn’t even know where I had been. I think a lot of the reason why I haven’t told Charlie has to do with that morning at 6am when I could’ve lost everything. When you’re so close to losing something you love, you never want to get that close again. Charlie was so ready to get up and leave, she told me she hated me, that she was through with being treated that way, being lied to and ignored, but what was I doing now? I was completely ignoring her feelings and keeping things from her, lie after lie to conceal the truth. I couldn’t let that day have a sequel and have it end up with her leaving.

That night was a huge mistake, everything with Emma had been all along, from taking her to the Ed Sheeran concert, to letting her weasel her way back into my life when I was drunk on money and high on fame, to letting her kiss me in Ibiza and all the paparazzi shots in between, she was always a mistake but she was one that I kept on making.

But the biggest mistake of all was entirely my own, on New Years Day in the hospital, the moment I could have been honest with Charlie but decided to use her memory loss to my advantage. Right then I could have told her – could have apologized and everything could have been fine. I could have avoided spending every day after that moment walking on my tiptoes, having my heart fall out my ass whenever I get an anonymous message, having my lungs cave in every time my name or photos are in the press… but I was too scared of ruining what we had, but now my fear has only grown. When she couldn’t remember a damn thing about Emma, I figured I’d forget about her too, but it wasn’t that easy. I can still hear Louis’ voice in the back of my mind, telling me what I was doing was wrong. I hated putting him in this situation. That night, he Eleanor and Charlie had all seen Emma and I together. I was sure Eleanor hadn’t pieced the two Emma’s, who were very much the same, together, but Louis knew exactly who my Emma was, and exactly who Charlie’s Emma was, and I think that’s something that’s really hurt him to have to live with. He and Charlie are best friends, what kind of best friend was I to either of them to make him keep this from her? I tossed in bed, guilty conscience keeping me from sleeping. He promised as long as I kept my distance from Emma, he would brush this under the rug. But with her always coming out of the blue uninvited like Adele, she was the gust of wind that could reveal all my secrets hidden beneath that very rug.