The Script (Liam Payne)

Chapter 36

"It was difficult to say goodbye when that was the last thing I ever wanted."- Anonymous.

Chapter Thirty Six

I don’t bother to lock the door as he closes it behind him. I’m partially stressed because even I don’t want to sleep without him, considering we’ve just slept for three nights in a row, well excluding the one when he was arrested but we still did after that incident. But at the same time, I don’t want to be that woman who lets anyone do anything to her, without even knowing how he feels for them. I want to go back outside and call him in again but I refrain from doing that.

I need to work on my terrible self control.

I’m completely heartbroken right now even though he clearly didn’t state that he has no feelings for me. Then also, he meant that only, didn’t he? I have no clue why I even expect stuff from him in the first place and I should start living off the illusions I have for him, but I can’t help it. I like him and he doesn’t, as simple as that.

Clearly, keep a safe distance away from him part isn’t working for me, at all and I do find myself back towards him somehow.  I can’t let him kiss me anytime he wants even though I want the same thing myself but I’m ready to be thinking about this ‘forced relationship’ whereas he is just stuck at the same place.

I hate how he increases my hopes for him and breaks them, within a fraction of seconds without even caring. For a moment, just for one moment, I thought he meant what he said about me being different but he took it back without even letting me consider his words. I don’t like the person I become when I’m around him, someone who lets her emotions think for her and even act for her. I hate it, I hate him and I hate everything right now.

My self conscious is grinning and smirking at me right now, very well aware of the fact that I’m lying to myself but I don’t care right now. Not when he is sleeping outside when he can sleep next to me, wrapping his hands around my waist like he always does. Even though I hate to admit to this, but this very gesture of his makes me feel safe… and… protected. I shake my head and allow these thoughts to vanish from my head. I don’t want to be thinking about this right now.

I have to stop thinking about him and caring about him when he clearly, he doesn’t.

I was never unsure of my feelings about anyone before, even with Ryan it was different. I never had to be this puzzled about him or about my feelings or about my relationship with him since I knew he would always be there, no matter what happened between us.

I sigh and lay my forehead against the cool wooden door he closed behind him. I think I should go back out to make sure he isn’t feeling hot or if the windows are shut off.

Make up your mind, my conscious shouts and I know I should be doing just that. I lock the door and turn toward the washroom. I wash my face thoroughly. I can’t help but notice how pink my skin has turned and how wet my cheeks are. I hadn’t even noticed that I allowed some tears to fall, without any warning. I’m too damn attached, already.

As I turn to lie down on the bed, I debate whether or not to change my clothes. It’s not like I do have a lot of options but sleeping in this knee length dress isn’t the best option either. After everything he did to me, he at least owes me his clothes. He did allow me to wear them and I want that dancing part inside of me to die when he said that.

I walk towards his half closed suitcase and open it again. The same gray sweatshirt I wore the first night here lies on top of everything, cleanly folded. That night seems months ago when in reality, it is exactly two weeks and three days ago.

I slip out of the dress, folding it and placing it in the wardrobe. I get inside his sweatshirt. It is surprisingly warm and too comfortable. It smells of him, of Liam and I feel like throwing it away just not to remind me of him. The smell is stuck inside my mind and even though I can feel this fragrance life long, it is highly addictive. I tuck myself inside the duvet and clutch my sweatshirt against myself tightly.