"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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tw//severe violence
The London air is surprisingly warm for a night in early March.
Maybe warm wouldn't be the right word to describe tonight's temperature, but for a girl from Georgia who typically freezes her ass off every time she visits the U.K., the fact that I'm able to get away with wearing some ratty blue jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and an oversized cardigan without shivering is a good sign that spring is coming.
My flight landed a few hours ago, but I've been pretty bored since then. I had to catch a cab to Harry's house again since he told me he'd be busy all day doing interviews and radio shows. Our plan was to spend a few days together, uninterrupted. But with each of our schedules, a few days became a weekend.
We're both all booked up.
I don't know what either of us expected with his new tour gearing up to start soon, but maybe it won't be the worst thing.
At least that's what I keep telling myself.
Spending every single waking second together is what aided our relationship in falling apart in the first place, so perhaps only seeing each other when the other isn't working will be a good thing. The more time we spend apart, the more excited we will be to spend time together, but truthfully, at this point, I know that nothing could rip us away from each other ever again.
Instead of waiting around for Harry to come home, I decided to walk around London for a bit with nothing but a book, my phone, and a set of keys to get into Harry's property.
For a Friday night the streets are mostly empty. All the clubs and restaurants I pass appear to be only half-full instead of brimming over with the threat of over capacity like usual.
After all the summer nights I used to spend on London streets with a book in my hand to avoid the company of Charles and Celia, I know London nightlife pretty well, and this isn't it. There's usually people milling around everywhere.
Looking back, a young girl like myself had no business amongst the loud drunks and boisterous groups of overexcited twenty-somethings just searching for a good time in any way they could find it, but nothing bad ever happened to me then, so my naivety is telling me that nothing bad should happen to me now.
Besides, I'm probably a little more protected than I ever was back then thanks to the small tube of pepper spray I keep attached to my key chain. After going through what I went through with that disgusting piece of shit, Bennett, I realized I probably need another layer of protection that my sarcastic and bitchy attitude can't provide me.
Heading back to Harry's now, I do everything I can to focus on the words written across the pages of My Policeman by Bethan Roberts, a book I've read twice now and recommended to Harry recently, deciding to read it again as a result. Although, despite my best efforts, I can't deny the nerves that begin to creep in at the sudden emergence of an SUV passing me on the street, the blurry people inside not even trying to hide their stares as they pass.
