Anna: Harry Styles

Super Rich Kids

20th of April 2018

Harry's POV

I am stupid. So very stupid.

The guilt of my actions in Dublin, and then what I did in London the day following, has been eating me up inside for days on end, and us being together here tonight, acting like nothing was wrong between us, when there were so many things that we needed to discuss.

Like how Anna had barely uttered one word to me since she landed in Perth, looking depleted and hurt.

Like how I had gone off and partied all night, and I was stupid enough to entertain Camille Rowe, and I hated myself for it.

I didn't sleep with her or kiss her, but I let her flirt with me, and even though I was absolutely pissed, I should know better.

And I was flirting back. I wasn't even thinking about what I was doing, I was just fucking doing it.

And I felt disgusting, especially considering that Anna is on my arm tonight smiling like nothing is wrong, even though both of us knew something was wrong between us.

"You alright?" I whispered in her ear.

We were at a charity gala in Perth, the two of us attending on behalf of Columbia Records, along with Jeff and his partner.

Her hair was swept back into a neat low ponytail, her usual curls deadly straight.

And the dress she was wearing, oh my god the dress.

A brown strapless skintight dress, with fucking gloves, accompanied with gold shoes and accessories.

She looked stunning, she always looks stunning.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said with a pretty smile plastered on her face and I felt like I was going to throw up.

The charity was raising funds for childhood cancer, and there were hundreds, if not thousands of people here.

All of them were filthy rich, not that I was in a position to talk, but I knew it sometimes made Anna feel a little lost, even though I don't think she will actually ever realise she is actually quite wealthy herself.

"You want to grab a drink?" I asked and she nodded politely before we said hello to a couple of people, quickly making a dash to the bar to get us a glass of champagne each.

The air between us was awkward, and I felt so guilty. Guilty for what I had done, guilty for letting the air between us be awkward when I shouldn't have, and guilty for being a shit boyfriend.

"Thank you," she said softly, a small smile on her face, taking the champagne from my hand and taking a small sip, the smile falling from her lips when she turned away from me.

We made our way around the large room, both of us admiring how beautifully decorated it was, a theme of gold and white clearly evident in the choice of decorations.

While I knew she was angry at me, she kept her free hand on my arm the whole time, which comforted me to some degree, even though I felt sick to my stomach to what had happened.