Matilda | Harry Styles

TWENTY-SEVEN

"A blind person could've predicted that," Pauli remarked, earning a snort from Harry beside me. Elin rolled her eyes, turning back to me and waiting for my response.

"It's on the eighth. Next month," I told her, watching her scribble it down intently, as I felt Harry's arm tense beside me.

"What?" he said to me, as I turned my head to face his narrowed eyes. "Are you serious? That's, like, a couple of weeks away."

"I think it's around three weeks, still," I furrowed my eyebrows, calculating it in my head. It was around a week before the tour was due to end, in California - it was something I didn't like to think about.

I hated birthdays - I always, always had; mine, or anybody else's. I certainly didn't like to make a fuss of them. In fact, I much preferred it when they were ignored altogether. Grace, historically, had tried to make a small thing of it, in any way that she could; usually, it meant eating an entire cake between the pair of us, or a bottle of overpriced wine. But I never dared classify it as a celebration, because what on earth was there to celebrate surrounding my life, surrounding me?

Growing up, birthdays were never mentioned. They practically didn't exist, and so, now - to me - they still didn't, really. It was only upon moving away from home that I realised most people did, indeed, celebrate their birthdays. I'd always known when my birthday was, but I'd never felt any sort of buzz surrounding it - there'd come a point where I'd often barely even notice it approaching.

Until my father died on that exact day.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry asked, appearing slightly offended as he broke me from my thoughts. I pursed my lips, receiving yet another reminder that most people did, indeed, care for these sorts of things.

"I don't know, it's not really something I've ever made a big deal out of," I said, honestly. "I don't really care for it." I did, now, have yet another reason to dread the days drawing closer to my birthday, because it meant that my time, here, on tour, would be coming to an end soon after.

Harry frowned, not speaking for a moment. His eyes were searching my own, as I attempted to appear unphased by the topic. He spoke, then, seeming genuinely curious. "Would you have told me? Or would it have just passed?"

I hesitated, knowing the real answer wouldn't be the one he wanted to hear. But I stuck to it, regardless. "I probably wouldn't have, no," I admitted, pressing my lips together. "It's just another day."

When we made it to New York, it was around a thirty-minute drive to the hotel, from the airport. For the duration of the drive, my eyes had been set on the sights out of the window, an immediate warmth filling my chest. New York City was beautiful. I'd spent a fair amount of time in the US, now, but this was like nothing else, yet. It possessed that same charm in the city that London did; where in the centre, it felt almost surreal. But this was bigger; this was better. The billboards extended metres higher than the ones at home, and the lights were so much brighter, even in the midst of the afternoon. The buildings were all those tall, sort of office buildings - narrow, and reflective in nature, making everything seem even more vast. The streets were rammed with people, and cars, and with those yellow taxis that I hadn't known actually existed until now. This place had the kind of buzz that I could fall in love with, just like I had with London. This felt like the real deal.

I must have sent Grace at least fifty photos before we'd even made it to the hotel, each one met with an immediate response of equal awe, and playful jealousy. The hotel was of the same extravagance that they always were, but there wasn't much time to take it in before Harry had his first virtual interview. The tweet announcing 'Complicated Freak' had surpassed a million likes on Twitter within a matter of hours, and just about every news headline was talking about it. It was almost easy to forget how famous Harry was; I knew him so personally, it was hard to remember that around a billion other people knew who he was, also.