Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

24. The Betrayal

But how? More importantly - who?

I scroll through the multitude of tweets and see a common trend with most of the tweets. I uncertainly click onto a link to a recurring article, fearful of what I may read and my mouth continues to drop open as I get further into the piece.

'Styles Fling Revealed'

'Celeb Newz Update has an exclusive angle on the former mystery girl everyone seems to be talking about. Ava Sinclair, socialite, and heir to the Montgomery fortune has seemingly grasped the heart of the scrumptious Harry Styles, and we spoke exclusively to her best friend Poppy Elston to shed some light onto the intriguing situation.'

That bītch! I can't even see straight as I try and finish the fabricated article. Socialite? Is this some kind of sick joke? I barely leave the house, and I'm labelled as a socialite. I would gladly refer to myself as an unsocialite, and would have much preferred that title. I cannot believe the desperate lengths she goes to, only to use me as a stepping-stone to make herself more relevant. She's even gone as far as informing the website and it's readers of my grandparent's wealth. Barely anyone knows about that. The betrayal I'm feeling is indescribable, and I could never do something like that to anyone - not even to someone I disliked. I force myself to read on. Oh here we are - a quote from the traitor herself.

'I've always counted Ava Sinclair among my closest friends. I wasn't at all surprised to hear from her directly that she's romantically linked to One Direction's Harry Styles. She is known for her specific fondness for a good looking A-Lister.'

I can't even continue to read this drivel. How can anyone believe her? I see the pictures she's included within the article. There's an old photo of her and I at school - though Scarlett is noticeably cropped out. The other two photos are from the event last night. One of the photos is of all of us at together from the beginning of the night, and the second is the photo of Liam, Max and I. I linger on that photo where Max's hand is giving my waist a little squeeze, and it's quite noticeable within the photograph. Surprisingly, Poppy didn't address it within the article, probably due to the fact that she didn't want me to have the satisfaction of 'winning over' her so called date. Not that I would want to. I stare a little longer at the photo. I never noticed how green his eyes were. Still an àsshöle though.

I'm absolutely furious. How dare she! She had obviously seen the original magazines of Harry and I and wanted to make a name for herself. My mind is brought back to a comment Francesca had made in the car when we first met,

"Is this the girl who-," and she was quickly cut off by Poppy who replied, "Yes! She's the girl I went to high school with." Through clenched teeth, and intense eye contact.

Unmistakably she would have informed Francesca of this fact earlier, and almost gave her up. I knew it all didn't add up! Why did I not trust my instincts more?

My phone begins ringing and I'm even more surprised to see that it's Scarlett's name appearing on the caller ID. Even more so than when I found the article.

"Oh please, not you too. I've had enough of this stuff for one day."

"No Ava, I just saw it. Come over," she asks, and I'm so thankful to hear she's seemingly on my side again. I need someone in my corner if I'm to get through the rest of the day.

I get into my Mini Cooper and turn the radio on so I don't have to listen to my thoughts right now.

"And here joining us is none other than the fabulous Harry Styles. Welcome Harry."

"Thank you, it's lovely to be here again," he tells the radio host. I turn up the volume and wish that I could see him as well as hear him. I need him right now.