Tell me // H.S.

Scared to live

'Jeez. Listen to yourself Styles, you sound like you're already happily married to the girl' I tell myself, realizing how far my thoughts are going. But I can't help it. Because I know what I want. I want her. With me. For as long as possible. For as long as she wants. I can't let her down. I can't let her go. I just hope she won't let me go. 

Fuck. 

It hits me. That's what I said when I drunk called her and left a message. That's definitely what I said. I'm a fucking idiot. I literally left her a message asking her not to let me go after knowing her for three days. I can't remember anything else. I'm just sure that I said something like that. I feel stupid. Not because it isn't the truth, but because the last thing I want is to scare her off. And being this pathetic is probably not gonna help with making her fall for me. 

'Come on Styles, she was obviously not too bothered by what you said' I try to reassure myself and think rationally. 

I need to get up. I look at the time. It's almost 8. Maybe she's up. Maybe she's going for her usual morning coffee. Maybe I could meet her there again. I don't want to waste the time she has left in London, she probably has stuff to do, but I can't help it. I need to be around her. Because then she won't be around anymore. She's leaving tomorrow. Going back to New York, or wherever they're headed to afterwards. And I'll be in New York too, just a week later. But seven days is a long time when you have 6 hours of time difference with the person you'd wish to talk to all day long. 

I get up and head to the bathroom, throwing on sweatpants and a hoodie, then grabbing my phone as I'm brushing my teeth. I tap on her contact and decide that calling her would be nice. It rings, again and again, but she doesn't pick up. I spit out my toothpaste and sigh. I call her again when I grab a cereal bar in my kitchen before walking out the door, but she doesn't pick up. I clench my jaw and try to breath in and out slowly to calm my nerves. She's probably still asleep. Or she doesn't have her phone with her. Or James is responsible for it. No. I can't think of that. I really need to stop overthinking. 

I drive to the coffee shop, pulling up in a hurry in front of it and walking in quickly. James is talking with a customer. A short girl with light pink hair. He's very obviously flirting with her. Looking at her the exact same way that he looked at Star at the bar the night of her birthday. This guy's a jerk. His eyes slowly move from her to me and he looks at me with his usual 'I'm the biggest asshole you've ever met' grin. He gives her a wink as she walks out, his smirk fading when her eyes widen as she sees me. I give her a quick one arm hug and ask her how she's doing, a bit distracted, my mind on Starla still. She's not here. And she didn't answer the phone. I need to calm down. 

After the pink haired girl -Meghan- walks out I come up to James. 

"What's going Harry? D'you wanna drink something?" he asks me, raising an eyebrow, the cocky grin back to his lips. 

"I don't. Have you seen Starla this morning? Did she come earlier?" I ask him, ignoring the fact that I want to punch this fucking grin away from his stupid face. 

"And why would you think that Styles? You're afraid I would have more chances to get her in bed than you do?" he chuckles, leaning onto the counter, eyeing me from head to toe.