Matilda | Harry Styles

TWENTY-FOUR

The line went quiet for a moment, before I heard Grace scoff at the other end of it. "God, every time I think that evil bitch can't get any worse, she finds a way to outdo herself." I brought my thumb upwards, chewing mindlessly on my nail. It was sort of funny. Even after everything my mother had done, I'd never really been able to say a bad word against her, like Grace did. There was a part of me that had always sought to justify her actions somehow; like maybe I deserved it, maybe I was the problem. I hadn't quite triumphed in fully believing that I wasn't, but Grace had never seemed to have that same idea.

I knew that if Grace hadn't been so involved up to this point, I'd have never told her a thing either. The very same way I hesitated to share these parts of myself with Harry, I was sure that if Grace hadn't been such a direct witness to them my entire life, I would've withheld in the same manner - because I wasn't sure I'd have even known where to start. If Grace hadn't been there to pick me up; or offer me the other side of her bed to sleep in when my parents would force me out onto the street, or help me layer concealer over the marks on my skin so that I could go to school, unquestioned by my peers, then she'd have been none the wiser. I hated anybody knowing what had happened - I was humiliated, tormented by it with every day that passed - but as much as I wished there was, there was no erasing it.

Grace didn't have much to say - there wasn't much she could say. She wasn't going to call me stupid or foolish for trusting my mother for even a second, as much as she'd have been justified - and so she just stayed silent, for a minute, after throwing just about every insult.

"Are you okay?" she asked, then. I chewed on my nail.

"I will be."

"Is there anything I can do?"

I blew out a breath. I could do it on my own. "No. Thank you, though."

I made my way downstairs to meet the others for breakfast. Part of me hadn't expected Harry to be there so early, with his text informing me of his arrival back to his hotel room coming in so late - but there he was, clad in a big hoodie and leant back in his chair, a coffee cup on the table in front of him. Though I could only see their backs, it looked like it was Sarah and Mitch seated across from him.

His eyes shifted to meet mine the moment I walked into the room, a gentle smile pulling on his lips that immediately made my stomach flip. He was just, so...

"I'm guessing that adoring smile isn't for me," a voice sounded from beside me, and I turned my head to see Elin, having surfaced from her own room. She raised an eyebrow, turning her focus away from Harry across the room to grin over at me, before we both moved toward the table that was laid out with an array of breakfast food and drinks.

"It might be," I joked in response, reaching for a plate to start filling it up with pastries. Elin began to do the same, before she lightly nudged my arm with her own.

"So, how do you feel? You're officially a month in," she said, and I frowned, confused. She scoffed, then, playfully rolling her eyes. "A month into the tour," she said, causing my eyes to widen momentarily. I wasn't sure if that was longer, or shorter than it felt like I'd been here. Somehow, it felt like I'd never known any different from this, but it simultaneously felt like I could wake up and be back in London at any given moment.

I didn't speak for a moment, reaching for a cup to fill it with coffee. A month. Four whole weeks, I'd been doing this. Four whole weeks ago, I'd stood at the airport, resentment in my eyes as I'd watched Harry, and I could've sworn I hated him. Overwhelmed, and out of my depth - and though I felt like I still sometimes teetered on those feelings; everything had changed. It felt like I had somewhat of a place here - just a little bit - with friends, with a job I liked doing; with fun, and enjoyment, and with things that were good.