Pretend (Harry Styles) - Book 3

Chapter 48: Fresh Air

Right now I don't give a fuck about much of anything.

I pull on a black leather jacket as Poppy opens the front door. It's a typical dreary London day. Overcast sky with a chill to the air.

How appropriate.

Poppy goes on about a story Freya told her that involves shopping at a market in Dubai and a monkey. At least I think that's what it's about. My mind wanders to much to know for sure.

When we pull up to a large park on the outskirts of the city, I notice a big smile on Poppy's face.

"We didn't get followed. Nice isn't it?" She remarks. "Even though I wouldn't mind beating the shite out of one of those wankers...again."

I shake my head as we step out of the car, remembering Poppy shoving and slapping the rude pap who showed up at her door only moments after I did.

He never came back.

She takes my arm, entwining it with hers as we start down one of the paths leading into the park.

"This is nice." I say after a few moments of silence.

I see Poppy smile out of the corner of my eye. "Told you so. I'm always right you know."

"So I've heard."

She laughs as we pass an older couple walking hand in hand.

The site makes my heart hurt.

"I haven't talked to him in five days." My mouth speaks without my minds consent.

"What?"

"Nothing." I shake my head.

"That's not nothing. He hasn't rang you in five days?" Poppy questions, concern thick in her tone.

"No." I answer quietly.

"Have you called him?"

"Yeah..." I stop walking, suddenly feeling sick. "A lot."

She frowns as she looks over at me. "Has he messaged you?"

"No. He hasn't responded to my texts either."

"Well he is very busy." She forces a smile. "You know how things get on tour. I'm sure it's nothing to be worried over."

"We talked every day. At least once a day. Then nothing."

"He's a busy lad. Maybe his phone was broken. Or he hasn't had signal..."

"Don't." I shake my head. "It's Harry. He breaks his phone constantly and always has a new one within an hour. And they stay at five star hotels. He has signal."

"Well he.. Maybe he.." Poppy's voice fades off.

"Exactly." I glance away as two teenage girls jog by us, looking at me with narrowed eyes.

"Problem?" Poppy questions loudly as they pass.

One of them looks back, continuing to keep up with her friend as she glares at me.

"Wh-ore." She coughs into her hand making her friend giggle.

"You little fucking..."

"Don't." I grab Poppy's arm as she heads towards them.

"Let me go, I'm gonna kick that little trolls ass!" She barks, pulling out of my grasp.

"Don't." I repeat, raising my voice. "I don't want the press. Please Poppy."

She clenches her jaw but stops walking, throwing her arm up and promptly flipping the two girls off.

"Bloody little twat!" She spits. "How fucking dare she! Did you see her? I want to rip her cheap ass extensions out of her bloody hair! Who the fuck does she think she is?!"

"I don't blame her." I admit honestly.

"Don't blame her? What the bloody hell are you talking about Ava?" Poppy looks at me like I have two heads.

"She's probably a fan. Why wouldn't she think that way? You've heard the things being said. You saw the interview."

"I'm not okay with people calling you that! Does Harry know people are calling you that?"

"I don't see how he couldn't." I shrug.

"And he hasn't done something about it?!"

"If he did then..."

"Yeah yeah." She huffs, "People would question things. Blah blah blah. I'm going to ring Niall. He'll tweet for everyone to stop this shite or I'll have his balls. And not in the way he fancies."

I cringe at Poppy's words as she stomps away. I almost tell her to stop but she wouldn't listen to me. She's practically blowing steam out of the top of her head.

I take a seat on a wooden park bench as I hear her start yelling into her phone.

I pull my own out of my jacket pocket and scroll to Harry's name.

I stare at the screen for what seems like hours before I finally press call.

I hold my breath, praying he answers.

It rings twice before it goes straight to voicemail.

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