MY NAME, IS SIR [HARRY STYLES]

~~12~~

My body was frozen in place for a lengthy period of time after the door slammed behind Harry's anger and it felt like every single fibre that made up my being was trembling with fear.

I did not cope well with yelling.

After taking multiple deep breaths and urgently wiping the stream of tears that had completely saturated my tainted cheeks, I grabbed my towel and headed for another shower. I felt like I was in need of one after that and I was desperate to get into my pyjamas and call it a night, maybe in the morning I would have a clearer understanding of what I should do.

I throw my hair up into a messy bun right on top of my head and hop into my matching set of satin blue floral pyjamas. A pair of shorts and a cropped cami top, but this was the set I wear when I'm feeling confident, but Harry's outburst left me with uncontrollable triggers and I felt self-conscious, belittled. Not that what Harry did was that bad, but it brought up a past I had been running from for too long.

I dig through my suitcase for my oversized grey crewneck, something I packed in case Italy decided to grace us with a chilly evening. Throwing it over my head and letting it completely engulf my body, I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, the base of my eyes puffy and the rims of my eyes tainted red.

I needed to escape to another world, my comfort zone in times like this. Placed deliberately in my suitcase was my comfort novel. A book that I have read so many times, it's like the storyline is a memory of my past. Like the events happened to me and I personally knew each character in the book.

The story was "Before I Die" by Jenny Downham. It isn't one of your typical over the top romance novels were you long for a love like the main characters find, more so, it was inspirational, it was life affirming and contained impassive honesty. Tessa was my idol, a 16-year-old fictional character gave me more courage and stimulation than any person I had come across in my own life.

I slide on my black framed reading glasses because, apparently, my eyes suck like everyone else in the family. A gene trait that I wish I wasn't gifted, and tuck myself into bed, leaning my back up against the headboard and feel myself gaining excitement from the anticipation ahead.

'I wish I had a boyfriend. I wish he lived in the wardrobe on a coat hanger. Whenever I wanted, I could get him out and he'd look at me the way boys do in films, as if I'm beautiful'

I allow myself to attach to every word Tessa is saying as I completely consume myself in the novel for an unknown number of times.

A handful of chapters, I was unaware of how much time had passed which was a common occurrence when this book was in hand.

"Charlotte?" the silenced whisper caused my ears to prick up as my attention is moved to the door.

There stood Harry, half his body visible with his fingers brushed through his hair.

"Hey" I whisper back, using my finger to hold the place in my book as I give my best "come in" expression.

"I won't stay long, I just wanted to apologise" he mumbles as he takes one step further into the room.

"No, it's alright" I shrug, my eyes darting to the clock.

Shit.

It was midnight. Had I really been reading that long?

It wasn't until Harry had stepped further into the room that I noticed he was no longer in a suit; he was in a simple pair of navy cotton pants and a grey tee. I don't think I expected him to sleep in suits as well, but I wouldn't put it past him.

He looked good.

But I was still mad at him.

"I just wanted to explain my reasoning for getting mad earlier." He begun to explain as he makes his way closer to where I still sat in the bed.