The Maid For Styles

Chapter 65

A/N: unedited again, ha woooooow (sorry this is shorter than usual too)

Chloe's POV

Shock was one of the feelings that had the ability to completely override your system and keep you shackled in its unsolicited embrace. It froze everything, from the limbs that your body owned to the world around you, in time, yet sped up the pace of your heart and allowed the sheer confusion and disbelief to annihilate your mind. I'd never expected to feel the perplexity so severely at that stage of my relationship with Harry, but he was full of secrets and surprises; you never knew what was lying ahead.

My body was completely motionless; brain buzzing with any possible excuse for the words the man with the antagonizing camera had spoken. I could feel my chest caving in, making it difficult for my lungs to breathe in the air they needed, but there was nothing I could do. The shock had dominated my body and I was entirely still.

It was like the anarchy around me had stopped. The noise that had previously filled my ears was no longer heard. The flashes that continued to brighten up the night sky were nothing but small flashes of light out of the corner of my eyes. I was almost ignorant and oblivious to the chaotic scene that proceeded to unfold around me-all I could feel was Harry's sweaty grip on my hand, and for the first time in forever, I wasn't sure if I wanted his touch at all, not even for the comfort that I was to be in desperate need of.

Kendall fucking Jenner. The girl from the stupid "Kardashian" show. Who the fuck does she think she is appearing in that show without the same last name as a majority of the other women, anyway? Absolute bitch.

I tried to remind myself that those photographers tended to say a bunch of bullshit in hope to gain some attention, but the thought of Harry and the bitch, Kendall, lingered in the back of my mind relentlessly, and somehow, I'd figured that the man wouldn't have blurted his devastatingly scandalous comment if there wasn't some known history behind the two. I clearly understood that Harry had slept with his fair share of women and it was definitely a possibility that Kendall had just happened to be one of the girls on Harry's list, but what kind of booty call hiked themselves from bed to collect their uncommitted companion?

They just didn't.

But, a girlfriend did.

The anger and hatred that I knew had been brewing had finally arrived. I sucked in a sharp, livid breath, blinking multiple times as I finally focused my gaze back on my car. My grip on Harry's hand tightened and I stuck my nails into his skin, in hope to release some of my pent up anger. I was absolutely furious and there was no denying it. I could only hope that my anger stayed for as long as possible, because where there was love, there was rage and pain-and the pain was something I had wished we could save for the later stages of our relationship, or just avoid all together.

Fury seemed to be the only way to deal with the nightmare I was living. I had not one explanation and there was no way I was to be receiving one from a drunk of his ass Harry. My heart hadn't shattered into its millions of pieces and it wasn't lying on the ground at my feet where the press could click away at their cameras, and take photos to show the world. I didn't know how to feel, because I had absolutely no justification as to what I'd been told, but I knew I'd make up my mind once I knew the full story, and that would be the time when the entirety of my heart would splinter into vulnerable diminutive pieces. My uncontrollable anger was the only thing gluing me together and my goal was to keep a hold of it, afraid the pain would consume me all too quickly.

There were two possible scenarios for the cameraman's words:

1) He'd lied

2) Harry had lied