Holding On (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Trials

The sound of a high-pitched man's voice, muffled by the sound of an overhead fan woke me up. I blink my eyes open, squinting at the light shining through my window. I find Harry sitting beside me with crossed legs, staring open mouthed at the small TV mounted on my bedroom wall. He was wearing nothing but boxer shorts and a look of anxiety.

"Is something wrong?" I inquired, my voice oddly croaky.

He snapped his head down to look at me, obviously startled that I was awake. He blinked. "I'm sorry; did I wake you up?" He seemed concerned, but his mind was apparently preoccupied with something that was worrying him.

I shook my head. "No, you're fine. What's wrong? What's on the TV?" I sat up, my fallen bun bouncing as I situated myself. 

He only reached for the TV remote and paused it. For the first time, I looked at the man on the screen and identified him as Adam Baylor, a host of a gossip show that was popular in America. Everyone in Florida knew the show well. Sometimes, boys from my school would even dress up as Adam for Halloween as a joke. The man was fruity- always dressing in bright-colored suits, and his voice was as preppy as a cheerleader's. Nonetheless, he was charming, and more importantly, he left an impression on the viewers.

Harry's face was almost unreadable, and it looked like he was contemplating whether or not to tell me whatever about was going on. After a few moments, his face twisted into something that seemed to be a mixture of fear, anxiety, worry, guilt, and everything in-between.

"Harry?"

He shut his eyes like I normally do when I'm trying to block the world out. He inhaled, running a stressed hand through his unruly curls. "I'm so sorry, Charlotte." He whispered.

"Harry...?"

"They know I'm here."

I was suddenly struck dumb. I knew what he said, but my mind refused to believe it. It felt like some sort of dream that would be irrelevant to me when I woke up. He didn't say anything else. He just grabbed the remote in his hands and pressed 'rewind' until he found the bit he wanted to show me. 

I bit my lip since my jaw felt like it was about to drop onto my lap. He pressed 'play', and I was suddenly watching a queer man in a purple suit run his mouth on my TV screen:

"OK, Girls, I've got some good news and bad news for you this morning. The good news is: Although four-fifths of One Direction are back in Europe, Harry Styles is chillin' in America! Florida, to be exact."

I felt like someone had dropped tons and tons of rocks into my stomach. But I held my breath; I knew there was more coming.

"The bad news is.... he's visiting a girl! Not just any girl, Charlotte Austin is her name. Apparently, she visited him on tour, and they've been tweeting back and forth.  Flirtatious stuff! Not to mention, they were also seen kissing in a smoothie shop earlier this summer. Anyways, nothing's been confirmed, but it's not hard to guess that Mr. Styles is taken by this bodacious blonde." 

And as my picture popped up on the screen, even as I silently pleaded, "No, no this can't be happening," there was no way that I could stop thousands of people from finding out where Harry Styles was.

My face must've revealed my horror because after a look in my direction, Harry quickly turned the TV off with a push of a button. He tossed the remote a few feet away on my bed; I heard it thud as I tried to close my eyes and figure out how to handle the situation.