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Clara.

I had no idea. No clue. Harry Styles, a beautiful singer, is Anne's son. I know who he is but I wouldn't say I'm a super fan. But I'm still very nervous on what to do with myself. He's taking me out, but it's not a date. It makes me nervous he's doing this out of pity.

There is still that subconscious voice telling me to just give up. No one will want me anymore just as I don't want to be here anymore. I'm suffering and in pain.

"So have you finished school?" Harry asks, attempting to break the silence. I turn to look at him, still so shocked at how attractive he is. I'm pretty sure men find him attractive, even if they're straight. But how would a guy like him ever want me? It deepens my fear of his potential pity to me.

"Homeschooled. I, um, almost finished high school," I say, trying to be okay with this.

"Woah, really?" he smiles, looking over at me. I didn't think it was that fascinating that I was homeschooled.

So I just nod and he turns, making my body shift to the side a little.

"I never finished high school either. The band kinda took away from education," he explains, my lips curving unintentionally. I think hearing him talk is cool. Especially that he's not one of the snobby famous people.

"You got to travel the world. That's a good substitute," I say, not feeling as closed off. I don't think he'd judge me. He's seen so much and I doubt he'll find me weirder than I already am.

"I like your thinking," he smiles, my eyes looking over his smile. He's got dimples and they're really cute.

He turns the car and it's pulled into a parking lot, my fingers unbuckling my seatbelt. I climb out of the car and Harry rushes to my side and he reaches out, my cheeks fighting a blush as he grabs my hand.

We go up to the museum, multiple girls squealing and then a few start taking pictures. Harry is quick to act, seeing my discomfort.

"Can you please not take pictures? I'm sorry, girls," he says, the girls nodding. He quickly signs an autograph for them and turns his attention back to me, leading me into the museum. We get tickets and we start to walk around, his hand keeping mine in his. He's got a huge hand, but it's incredibly warm.

"How are you doing, Clara?" Harry asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I look up and meet his green eyes, my heart racing against my chest.

"Okay, I guess," I say, his thumb brushing the back of my knuckles.

"If you need to talk, I'll listen. My mom and sister are very...in your face about talking to people. I get it. So if you just need to talk, you can call me or since I'm here, talk to me," he says, my head nodding. I'm not much for words; especially with very attractive men.

"How long are you home?" I ask, his lips curving. I think he's happy I'm actually talking to him.

"Two weeks, then I go back out to England to shoot," he explains. Then he goes on to tell me his family apparently moved to California when he was in the band, but they stayed. Harry has a place in both England and California, but likes to stay with Anne when he's on his little breaks.

We move into a crowded exhibit and Harry steps behind me, grabbing my upper arms. It's a comforting feeling, having a very big man to shield me. I feel his chest press to my back and he makes sure no one is to bump into me.

"This one's my favorite," Harry says, clearly coming to this museum a lot. He points to a painting and it show two worlds colliding. It's a huge painting and I'm sure it can be taken in multiple different ways.