dreamer ➵ larry stylinson

ten

ten.

The cold wind blew against my face, causing my teeth to chatter. The current date was Saturday, December twentieth. Exactly four more days until my birthday and I couldn't be more excited. I was homesick, terribly. I would drive the three and half hour trip, but I just don't have the money for it. Mum was excited for Christmas; she had called me yesterday and boasted about all the things we were going to do.

I already bought the Christmas presents; Lottie got a makeup kit, Phoebe and Daisy got new dolls, and Fizzy got a CD from her favorite band. Since I was terrible at buying gifts, Mum gave me a list on what they want, which was very helpful. Otherwise, they'd end up getting things they wouldn't like.

My feet stopped at the clinic's door. Nervously, I opened the door and walked inside. Instantly, I found the chocolate curls on top of Harry's head. Smiling softly, I knew this wasn't going to end well. By the end of the day, Harry would hate me. I walked up to the desk and signed myself in. Harry hasn't said anything, nor have I felt the burn of someone's stare.

Once I signed myself in, I turned around to see Harry staring at his phone. He looked pretty zoned out of reality. Silently, I walked over and sat in the chair next to him. He didn't make a move to look at me. On his phone, he was playing the damned Flappy Bird game.

"That game is impossible." I whispered to him.

His eyes whipped to mine in shock, then smiled at me. "You scared me. When did you get here?"

"Just got here. Now I'm waiting."

"Me too. I'm nervous about my new therapist."

I patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll like them."

"I hope so." He sighed.

"So," I said, licking my lips. Harry closed out his game and looked at me. "Did they tell you anything about the new one?"

He shook his head no. "Other than the fact that they're nice, then no. The receptionist hates me."

"She thinks I'm crazy. Every time I look at her, I catch her staring at me." I told Harry with a chuckle. Humorously, I looked over at the receptionist. Sure enough, her gaze caught mine, then turned away quickly.

Harry laughed. "Why does she think that?"

"Let's just say I don't like coming here, okay?"

Before Harry could speak, Lucy walked in with a clipboard in her hand. She wore one of those horrid white doctor's coat and had glasses on the bridge of her nose. When she dressed professional, it made her looked older than she actually is. I had learned that she was fresh out of university, twenty-two years old, but wearing that outfit made her look like she was in her late twenties.

"Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson." She called out. "It's time for your appointment."

"What?" Harry said. My heart pounded in my chest. I stood up from the old chair right next to Harry. He didn't say anything else, but I could feel his confusion radiating off of him. Lucy gave me a soft pat on the back as I passed her.

"I'm Dr. Hughes. It's nice to meet you, Harry." Lucy told him.

I opened her office door and walked in, sitting in the chair on the right. Soon enough, Lucy and Harry followed, Harry sitting next to me. He didn't glance at me; his eyebrows were furrowed, something I noticed when he does when he gets angry. Letting out a sigh, I played with the golden ring on my middle ringer.

"Okay," Lucy sighed when she sat down. "Harry, I'm your new therapist, Lucy. I've heard so much about you."

"What's going on?" He demanded. "Why is he here?"