Tell me // H.S.

Don't let me go

Yet, for the whole day, the only thing I had in mind was her. Of course. When everyone left to go get lunch, I said I had something to do to stay alone at the studio. I pulled out my phone and decided I was going to call her. I told myself that I had to stop being so stupid about all of this. I could do it. Just call her. As a friend. 

So I called her. 

The phone's ringing. Again and again. 

'Hi, it's Starla...' I finally hear her voice on the other side of the line. I can't help but smile like an idiot. '...I'm so sorry I missed you, but leave a message and I'll call you back!'. My smile instantly fades away, my jaw clenching. Fucking voice mail. Fuck. I hang up. And call back. The voice mail comes up again and I stay silent for a moment, not knowing what to say. 

"Uh...Hi Starla. It's Harry. Styles. Um...I just, wanted to know how you're doing. I hope everything's alright. I uh- I hope you'll call me back." I just come up with. Can I do any worse than that? I don't think so... I sound fucking ridiculous. But it's too late now. 

I get up and kick the piano chair away, so hard that it hits the wall behind. What the fuck is wrong with me ? I don't even know her. Why did she have to look at me like that? Why did I have to notice that familiar look in her eyes? Why did she have to make me so nervous and scared just by standing in front of me? 

I find myself wishing I wasn't who I am. This way I wouldn't have scared her off. This way, there would've been no pictures of her all over social media, and she wouldn't have freaked out. This way, I wouldn't have even met her, maybe, and I wouldn't be acting like a complete idiot right now. 

But I hate that last thought. For some reason, the idea of not knowing her makes me feel desperate. I just need to know more of her. I need to. 

The image of her, asleep, right before I left comes back to me again, the way it did all night. I captured this moment. It's like a photograph in my head. Just her, laying alone in her bed. 'A bed that obviously wasn't made for two' I tell myself. And I can't even believe I just had this thought. I push it away immediately. 

We did go out that night, Mitch kinda forced me to go with them. She hadn't called back. I managed to smile a bit, cause my friends are the funniest people in the world, and they knew I wasn't feeling good, so they tried their very best. But I couldn't stop thinking about the night after I met her. The bar. How much we laughed and danced and sang together. How pretty she looked in her large white pants and camel top. 

So I did something stupid. Something I hadn't done in a long time. And something I was never proud of. I drank too much. To forget. To push the tiniest image of her away. Mitch brought me home and helped me get in bed. I thought I would finally get some sleep now that I was drunk. I thought I'd have a bit of peace that way. 

But I kept my eyes wide open. For hours. 

And then I stumbled through my room, grabbed my phone. And called her again. I was clearly too out of my mind to think about what time it would be for her in New York. I just called. She didn't pick up, so I left another message. 

When I wake up I literally feel like someone's hitting my head with a hammer again and again. My eyes struggle adjusting to the light in the room. I don't even remember coming back here last night. I look next to me and notice my phone. 

Fuck. 

Did I call her? Yes, I definitely did. Did she pick up? No, she definitely didn't. But I probably left her a message. And I have no idea what I said. And no way to know.