The Boy Wore Black || Harry Styles

The Boy Wore Black - Chapter 38

"Are you sure you can't stay?"

I stared at the reflection of the girl behind me, her hazel eyes sad and her brown hair thrown messily into a pony tail.

Jules, much like every other morning prior to my dismissal of duties from WFH, had showed up at my hotel with a coffee in hand and a smile on her face; which I had needed desperately since my night had been filled with tears, cheesy romantic movies, and Adele on loop.

I hadn't told her about mine and Harry's conversation because, frankly, I didn't want to replay the incident out loud for anyone to hear.

I didn't want to tell her that he had worked his way into my emotions, that he had forced cracks in my walls.  I didn't want to tell her that I had let him in, only to be pulled under and drowned in the desolation that he was. 

I didn't want to admit that it was partially my fault, too, for not being honest with myself about what it was I wanted and didn't want; which could have saved us a step and prevented this.

I didn't want to replay all of the times that I had mucked over that very black and white line that I had known was there, the line that kept our relationship a business one instead of the jumbled up mess it had become.

I didn't want to talk about it, any of it, so I hadn't.

I wouldn't.

I shook my head and grabbed the packed up bag of cosmetics from the marble-topped bathroom counter, avoiding the reflection of the wrecked woman in front of me.

She wore puffy eyes that were a tell-tell sign of what it was she had endured in the past hours, and I didn't want to see her.  I didn't want to face her for fear that the dam would break and the water would start flowing once again. 

"My flight leaves in a few hours," I answered, moving past her through the doorway.  "If I don't show up, my brother might send out a search party."

"He'll be there to pick you up, then?"  I nodded and found my unzipped suitcase lying against the fancy, unmade, comforter.  "Then I imagine you'll go straight home and work on the blog, since Cole has politely informed me that you've been doing work on it anyway."

I heard the accusing tone in her voice and gave her a small smile.  "He never said I couldn't work on it," I answered, attempting to shove my makeup into a small spot between my pants and my shirts, "so technically I've done nothing wrong."

"Technically," she repeated, grabbing the bag from my hands and repositioning it, "but had you focused your attention on falling in love with New York, I wouldn't be standing here watching one of my only friends pack her bags to leave."  I heard the emotion in her voice but kept my eyes on the bag.  Jules couldn't break down on me, I couldn't handle it.

"Oh no," I quipped as I zipped the suitcase slowly. "Now you'll have to find someone else to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning." 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes in response.  "No more early morning wake up calls for me.  I'm back to pestering my mother in the mornings, I suppose."

"Just make sure you provide the coffee."

"What's a ride to work without Starbucks?"  She winked and helped me pull the bag off the bed.  "So, have you heard from Harry today?"

I froze, the suitcase handle in my grasp and my eyes on the ground. 

How did I answer that question without melting into a pool of feelings and despair?

"They don't leave out until tomorrow," she continued, walking ahead of me toward the door.  "He could join us for lunch if you'd like.  I don't know how he feels about Italian food, but the boys never did strike me as the type to be picky about food."