6 - Instagram and invites

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 "Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me that you're sorry too."  

I know there are far more productive ways to spend my lunch break, like eating my lunch for example, but instead I'm sat scrolling through Harry's Instagram, having to restrain myself from commenting every single foul name I can think of.

I'm still seething over his cowardly performance in-store yesterday. The fact he doesn't feel I'm entitled to some sort of explanation makes my blood boil, but mostly I think I'm just disappointed that our friendship evidently never meant as much to him as it did to me. 

As it does to me. 

And although it had quite honestly broken my heart to watch him make an escape rather than answer my questions, I hadn't meant to react quite so dramatically.

The napkin holder had shattered as a result of being violently knocked to the floor; sending shards of jagged plastic skittering in all directions. In her surprise at my sudden outburst, Penny had dropped one of the waffle cones, resulting in a mound of Red Velvet Smash piled up on the counter. And when all the mess had been tidied away, she'd demanded to know what the flaming hell was that all about? But instead of just telling her, I'd burst into tears.

If I'd thought that seeing Harry again after so many years was to be the most uncomfortable moment of my life, I'd been sorely mistaken. As it transpired, Penny attempting to comfort me with a one-armed hug - whilst still clutching an ice-cream in the other hand and trying desperately not to get it in my hair - turned out to to be the winner of that title.

And now all I want to do is find a way to erase the past two day's events from my mind, so that I can go back to wondering about Harry Styles rather than loathing him. It's going to be a damn long afternoon and I'm pretty sure that the only thing that's going to get me through it, is knowing that my shift ends in two hours when my boss shows up to take over, and tomorrow's my day off. 

I can spend the whole of tomorrow wallowing in self-pity. Yay

I continue to roll my thumb over the phone screen and sigh. He'll be in Sydney tomorrow for the next date of the Australian leg of the tour and my chance will have officially passed. A part of me thinks that perhaps it's time to move on. Maybe it's time to accept that my friendship with Harry just really wasn't meant to be. But I've not given up on him before, so why should I now?

The clock ticking over to the next minute catches my eye and an exasperated huff leaves my lips. My break ends in five minutes which means I have to return to Penny's prying eyes and her not so subtle attempts at getting answers out of me regarding yesterday. Ever since I opened up the store this morning, she's been glued to me like a baby joey; practically breathing down my neck and staring at me with expectant eyes.   

But there's no way in hell that I'm telling her anything

It's not just because the situation between Harry and I is a complete and utter mess. Nor is it because, when said out loud, it actually sounds incredibly embarrassing to admit that Harry Styles has been giving me the cold shoulder since 2010. It's more because Penny is seventeen years old, for Christ's sake. It'll be one of those scenarios where you bare your all to someone after a pleading promise of oh, don't worry I won't tell a soul! only to discover it on all social networking platforms an hour later. 

And given that Harry Styles is involved, that's not going to be a good thing. 

I lock my phone screen, only for it to immediately come to life again. It's a notification from Instagram, and for a brief moment, I think that maybe I did comment all those completely savage thoughts I'd had regarding him, and now his fan base are cyber-attacking me for it. Except, upon closer inspection, it's not a response to a comment at all. It's a direct message. 

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