I walk through Beth's front door and straight upstairs to the flat like a zombie.
Bless Beth. She makes no attempt to try and extract more information from me. Instead, she lets me fall onto the sofa in a tear stained heap and brings me a cup of tea.
My eyes widen when the front door slams. Beth runs out to the banister. 'It's just Ian.' she reassures me as she comes back into the lounge.
'He has a key?' I ask. Beth shrugs it off, but this small snippet of news has me smiling to myself. Will she take it back in light of this new found knowledge?
My phone rings again and I reject the call...again.
Ian steams into the lounge, looking as nervous as he did at The Manor. We both look up at him as he does a little tennis spectator impression, flicking his eyes from me to Beth and back again a few times.
Stalking over to Beth, he all but hauls her out of the lounge by her elbow. 'We need to talk.' he says urgently. I crane my neck around, watching as he practically throws her into her bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
I lie on the sofa, my tea resting on my stomach, and close my eyes. They don't stay shut for long. Mental images of Harry are imprinted on my brain, and with my eyes closed, there's no other visual distraction, so they are all the more clearer. I'm never going to be able to sleep again. My phone starts again. Reaching down, I stab the reject button, staring up at the swirly artex ceiling of the lounge.
I've never felt pain like this before. It's excruciating and way beyond fixable. He owns a fucking sex club? Why? Why couldn't he be a banker or a financial advisor? Or...a hotel owner... I knew there was something wrong, something dangerous. Why didn't I take a few moments to try and gather my senses? I know exactly why – because I wasn't allowed to, I wasn't given a chance to.
I sit up when I hear Beth's high shrill travel across the landing, followed by Ian's placating tones trying to calm her down. She flies out of her room with Ian in tow. He's struggling to pull her back.
'Get your fucking hands off me, Ian. He needs to know.'
'Wait a minute...Beth...arhhhhhh! What the fuck did you do that for?' Beth retrieves her knee from Ian's groin, leaving him in a folded, groaning mess on the landing, before barging into the lounge and punching me with her stare.
'What?' I ask, apprehensively. What do I need to know now?
She throws Ian a filthy look when he appears at the lounge door grasping his groin. I'm left wondering why Ian's looking so apologetic when it's Beth that's just kneed him in the balls. She points at the chair aggressively, silently demanding him to sit. He limps over, lowering himself on a painful hiss.
'Louis, he's on his way over.' she tells me calmly. I don't know why she chooses this tone. It's not going to calm me – not at all.
I gasp, looking at Ian sat in the chair, refusing to meet my eyes. He wasn't going to tell me? I was stupid to think Harry would make this easy. 'I need to leave,' I wail as my damn phone starts again. 'Fuck off!' I shout at the stupid thing.
'Take him.' Beth swings around to Ian. 'He's in no state to drive.'
'Oh no, not me,' He holds his hands up, shaking his head. 'It's more than my life's worth. Anyway, I need to talk to you.' He jerks his head towards Beth.
We all jump at the sound of an almighty crash at the door, my heart promptly leaping into my throat as I look at Beth. Ian groans, and it's not because of the pain Beth's inflicted on him.
'You dirty little turncoat.' she mutters angrily, piercing Ian with her sharp eyes.
'Hey, I didn't say a fucking word!' He's on the major defensive. 'It wouldn't take a fucking rocket scientist to work out where he is.'
'Don't answer it, Beth.' I plead.
A combination of more bangs play out on the front door. God, I don't want to see him. My defences are not strong enough right now. I jump at a succession of more bangs, followed by a chorus of car horns that sound off all around.
'For fucks sake,' Beth yells, running across the room to look out of the window. 'Shit.' She pulls the blind up, getting up close and personal with the glass.
'What?' I join her at the window. I know it's him, but what's with the racket?
'Look!' she yells, pointing down below. I force my eyes to follow her hand and see Harry's car abandoned in the middle of the street, his driver's door wide open and a line of traffic starting to build up behind it. He's not left enough room for cars to pass, causing tempers to flare and car horns to honk. It's all clearly audible from up here.
'Louis!' I hear him bellow. He proceeds to thump the door a few more times.
'Oh, fucking hell, Louis,' Beth carps. 'That man's a walking, talking detonate button and you've just pressed it!' She starts stalking out of the lounge.
I rush after her. 'I pressed nothing, Beth. Don't answer the door!' I lean over the banister, watching Beth fly down the stairs to the front door.
'I can't just leave him out there causing anarchy on the street.' She carries on her way.
I panic and run back into the lounge, passing Ian, who's still sat in the chair rubbing his sore spot, mumbling inaudible words.
'Why didn't you tell Beth?' I ask him sharply on my way back to the window.
'I'm sorry, Louis.'
'You need to be apologising to Beth, not me.' I turn back, finding no trace of the fun loving, cheeky chap that I've become so fond of. Instead, there's a tense, uneasy, timid man.
'I have apologised. And I couldn't very well tell her until Harry told you. You should know, this has been eating away at him since he met you.'
I laugh at Ian's attempt to defend his friend and look out of the window again. Harry is still pacing outside, clearly desperate, smashing the buttons of his mobile. I know who he's calling. And, like I knew it would, my phone starts shouting in my hand. Should I answer it and tell him to go away? I stare down onto the street, panic flooding me when a driver from one of the held up cars gets out. Oh God, don't challenge him!
Beth walks out, waving her arms at Harry. He ignores the driver that's approached, turning to Beth instead. His hand gestures are urgent. What's he saying? What's Beth saying? After a few minutes, Harry gets in his car. Relief washes over my entire being, but he only moves it slightly so it's parked in a more considerate fashion, allowing the other motorists to pass.
'Oh God, Beth! What have you done?' I yell at the window.
'What's going on?' Ian asks from his chair. I don't answer him.
I stand, unable to move, watching as Harry leans up against my car, his head dropped in defeat, his arms hanging by his sides. Beth's arms are wrapped around herself as she stands in front of him. He looks up at her, and even from here I can see the anguish riddling his face. She reaches over to him, rubbing her palm up and down his arm. It's a gesture of comfort. It's killing me.
After an eternity of watching them on the street, Beth finally turns, making her way back to the flat, but to my utter horror, Harry starts to follow, and Beth makes no attempt to stop him.
'Shit, no!' I exclaim, throwing my hands to my head in dread. What's she thinking?
'What?' Ian shouts anxiously. 'Louis, what?'
I quickly consider my options. It doesn't take long because there are none, except to stand here and await the confrontation. There is only one way in and one way out of this flat. And with Harry on his way in, any plans to escape the inevitable altercation are totally floored.
Beth walks into the lounge, looking rather sheepish. I'm furious with her, and she knows it. I pin her with my most filthy stare as she smiles at me nervously.
'Just hear him out, Louis. The man's a mess.' She shakes her head sorrowfully, then looks at Ian, her expression changing instantly. 'You, get in the kitchen!'
Ian scowls. 'I can't fucking move, you evil cow!' He rubs himself again, rolling his head back on the chair. Beth huffs and pulls him out of the chair. He groans, closing his eyes and gingerly limping from the room.
I can't believe her. The treacherous cow! She backs out of the room, giving me eyes full of sympathy. She wouldn't have to act so fucking sorry if she hadn't of let him in – the stupid, stupid woman. I turn to face the window before he walks in. I can't look at him. I'll dissolve into tears if I do, and I don't want him to have any excuse to comfort me or wrap his big warm arms around me. I brace myself for his voice to wash over me, every frazzled nerve ending buzzing and every muscle tense. I hear nothing. But as every hair on the back of my neck tingles, standing upright, I know he's near. My body's response to his potent presence has me closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and praying for strength.
'Please, look at me, Louis.' His voice is quivering, full of emotion. I swallow the tennis ball sized lump in my throat, fighting back a barrage of tears that are pooling in my eyes. 'Louis, please.' I feel his hand brush down the back of my arm. I flinch at the contact.
'Please, don't touch me.' I find the courage I need to turn round and face him.
His head is dropped, his shoulders sagged. He looks pitiful, but I mustn't be swayed by his sorrowful state. I've been influenced too many times by manipulation, and this...this is just another form of manipulation...Harry style. I've been so blinded with lust, I haven't been seeing straight. His glazed eyes pull themselves from the floor to meet mine.
'Why did you even take me there?' I ask.
'Because I want you with me all of the time, I can't be away from you.'
'Well, you'd better get use to it because I don't want to see you again.' My voice is calm and controlled, but the pain that slices through my heart in response to my own words is enough to floor me on the spot.
His eyes swim, searching mine. 'You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that.'
'I mean it.'
His chest is expanding on each deep inhale, his hair in disarray and his frown line a crater across his forehead. The distress splashed across his face is like an ice spear through my heart. 'I never meant to hurt you.' he murmurs.
'Well, you have. You've trampled into my life and trampled all over my heart. I tried to walk away. I knew there was more than meets the eye. Why didn't you let me walk away?' My voice starts to trail off as the gravel in my throat starts to win the battle and tears start to pinch at my eyes. Damn me, I should have listened to my instincts.
He starts chewing his bottom lip. 'You never really wanted to walk away.' His voice is barely audible.
'Yes, I did!' I blurt on a sniffle. 'I fought you off. I knew I was heading for trouble, but you were relentless. What happened? Did you run out of married men to fuck?'
He shakes his head. 'No, I found you.' He steps forward, and I remove myself from his reach.
'Get out.' I say calmly, my body shaking, my breathing hitching – all evidence that I'm far from calm. I barge past him, knocking his shoulder.
'I can't. I need you, Louis.' His pleading voice is going to haunt me for the rest of my days.
I swing around violently. 'You don't need me!' I fight to keep my voice solid. 'You want me. Oh God, you are a dominant, aren't you?' Flashes of all our sexual encounters pass through my mind at a hundred miles an hour. He's truly fierce in the bedroom and pretty fierce outside it too.
'No!'
'Why the control issue then? And the dominance and commands?'
'The sex is just sex. I can't get close enough to you. The control is because I'm frightened to death that something will happen to you...that you'll be taken away from me too. I've waited too long for you, Louis. I'll do anything to keep you safe. I've lived a life with little control or care. Believe me, I need you...please...please don't leave me,' He walks towards me, but I step back, fighting the instinct to let him swathe me. He stops. 'I'll never recover.'
What? No! I can't believe he's being so cruel as to use emotional blackmail. 'Do you think this is going to be any easier for me?' I scream, the tears starting to flow rapidly.
The little colour that was left in his face drains out before my eyes. He drops his head. He has no come back to that. What can he say? He knows what he's done to me. He's made me need him.
'If I could change how I've handled things, I would.' he whispers.
'But you can't. The damage is done.' My tone oozes contempt.
He looks up at me. 'The damage will be worse if you leave me.'
Oh God. 'Get out!'
'No,' He shakes his head frantically, taking a step towards me. 'Louis, please, I'm begging you.'
I move away from him, mustering up my most determined expression, swallowing constantly to keep the lump in my throat at bay. This is so incredibly painful. This is exactly why I couldn't see him. I'm so angry with him, but seeing him so whitewashed is heart-breaking. I have to keep reminding myself that he's let me down in the cruellest way. He's misled me, deceived me and, essentially, bullied me into bed with him.
You let me fall in love with you!
He stares at me, the pain in his sludgy eyes immeasurable. I'll cave if I don't look away –so I do. I drop my gaze to the floor and silently beg him to leave before I fall apart and welcome the comfort he always gives me.
'Louis, look at me.'
I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to his. 'Goodbye, Harry.'
'Please.' he mouths.
'I said, goodbye.' The words carry an air of finality that I really do not mean.
He searches my face for such a long time, but eventually, he abandons trying to find any scrap of hope in my eyes, he turns, and he silently leaves.
I provide my lungs with the desperate rush of breath they need, walking on my unstable legs to the window. The front door slams, vibrating through the house, and Harry appears, dragging himself to his semi-abandoned car. I flinch, letting out a sob as he smashes his fist through the window of his car, sending shards of glass spraying all over the road. He throws himself in and repeatedly punches the steering wheel. After what seems like years of watching him pound on his car, he roars off, tyres screeching, car horns blaring.
***
I get out of the shower and dry my hair before resuming fetal position on my bed. I'm completely numb. I feel like my heart has been ripped out, trampled on and shoved back into my chest a battered mess. I'm somewhere between grief and devastation, and it's the most painful thing I've ever experienced. My life has fallen apart. I feel empty, betrayed, lonely and lost. The only person that can make any of this better is the person that's made it all happen. I don't feel like I'm ever going to recover from this.
'Louis?' I lift my pounding head from my pillow, finding Beth stood in my doorway. The sympathy on her face enflames the hurt a little bit more. She perches on the edge of the bed, stroking my cheek. 'It doesn't have to be like this.' she says softly.
How so? How can it be any other way? I just have to ride out this pain and see if I have the strength to deal with any of it. Start all over again. But at the moment, I'm content just lying here feeling sorry for myself.
'Yes, it does.' I reply on a whisper.
'No, it doesn't.' She's firmer this time. 'You still love him. Admit you still love him. Did you tell him?'
I can't deny it. I do. I love him – so much it hurts. But I shouldn't love him. I know I shouldn't. 'I can't.' I turn my face into my pillow.
'Why?'
'He owns a sex club, Beth.'
'He didn't know how to tell you. He was worried you would walk away.'
I look at Beth. 'Well, he didn't tell me, and I've still walked away.' I settle back down into my tear drenched pillow. 'You heard that man. He destroys marriages. He screws men for fun.' Why is she being so defensive? 'Why are you not shocked?' I mutter into my pillow. I know she's laid back, but this is shocking stuff.
'I am...a bit.'
'You could've fooled me.'
'Louis, Harry hasn't so much as looked at another man since he met you. The man is crazy about you. Ian never thought he'd see the day.'
'Ian can say what he likes, Beth. It doesn't change the fact that he owns a place where people go to have sex and he sometime joins in.' I shudder, feeling sick at the thought. Crazy about me? That's total crap.
'You can't punish him because of his past.'
'It's not his past, though, is it? He still owns the place.'
'It's his business.'
'Oh, leave me alone, Beth.' I spit. Her defending all of this is just pissing me off. She should be supporting me, not trying to justify Harry's misdemeanours.
I feel her weight lift from the bed on a sigh. 'He's still Harry.' she says as she leaves my bedroom, and me alone to mourn my loss.
I lay in silence trying to rid my head of all the inevitable thoughts. It's no good. My brain is assaulted by flashbacks of the last few weeks. Of our first meeting when he floored me, the texts and the calls and then the stalking...and the sex. I flip myself onto my stomach, sinking my face into my pillow.
Beth's words keep pin-balling around in my mind "he's still Harry". Do I even know who Harry is? All I know is a man who swept me up in his intensity and blindsided me with his physical being.
Another piece of the puzzle falls into place when I recall him telling me that he has no contact with his parents. They disowned him when his uncle died and Harry refused to sell The Manor. It makes sense now. It had nothing to do with the inheritance or sharing the estate, and all to do with their twenty one year old son being left to run a super posh sex club. Of course they would be concerned, and probably highly pissed. Their disapproval of Harry's relationship with Carmichael is absolutely warranted. Christ, did Carmichael encourage Harry to pursue that lifestyle? Harry even said he was having the time of his life. What young man wouldn't be in a house where anything goes? He really has had lots of practice. And there's a distinct possibility that he really has never fucked a man more than once – apart from me.
It doesn't take Einstein to figure out why I was being chucked the evils by all of those when I was at The Manor. They all want him. No, they all want him again.
He played it risky by taking me there, but when I think carefully, no one ever approached me – I was never alone, never free to roam. Did everyone know I was oblivious? Were they under instruction to keep quiet, to stay away? I must be a complete laughing stock. He really did go out of his way to keep me in the dark. How did he think he could get away with it? Nick's comment on leathers...I push my face into the pillow in complete despair.
'Louis?'
I look up and see Ian stood in the doorway, looking as deflated as he was earlier. 'He beat himself up on a daily basis trying to think of how he could tell you. I've never seen him like this before.'
'You mean rejected?' I say sarcastically. 'No, I can't imagine Harry Styles did get many knock backs.'
'No, I mean crazy about a man.'
'Oh, he's crazy all right.' I laugh.
Ian frowns, shaking his head. 'Yes, crazy about you.'
'No, Ian. Harry is crazy about controlling and manipulating me.'
'Do you mind?' he asks, standing at the edge of my bed.
'Help yourself.' I grumble uncharitably.
He perches on the edge of the bed. I've never seen him so serious. 'Louis, I've known Harry for eight years. Not once have I seen him behave like this over a man. He's never had a relationship beyond sex, but you came along and it's like he found purpose. He's a different man, and while you might have been frustrated over his protectiveness, as a friend, I was happy to see him finally care so much to behave like that. Please, give him a chance.'
'He wasn't just protective, Ian.' I say tiredly. Protectiveness is just the start of a long list of unreasonable ways.
'He's still Harry.' Ian repeats Beth's words, looking at me pleadingly. 'The Manor is a business. Yes, he mixed business with pleasure, but he had nothing else. It all changed when you fell into his life.'
'I can't wrap my head around all of this, Ian.'
He smiles, picking my hand up in his. 'If you can tell me that you can walk away from him, no second thoughts or regrets, then I'll shut up now and leave. If you can tell me that you don't love him, I'll walk away. But I don't think you can. You're shocked, I realise that. And yes, he has a history, but you can't ignore the fact that he adores you, Louis. It's written all over his face, expressed in everything he does. Please, give him a chance. He deserves a chance.'
Ian's pleading speech on behalf of his friend sounds like it's been well prepared and rehearsed. Maybe it has. They must have known I'd find out eventually. Can I get past this shit? I know I'm not doing myself any favours laying here, kicking my sorry arse around in circles. I'm trying to deal with something I just don't understand and probably never will. He owns a sex club. This crap doesn't feature into my idea of a normal, happy ever after. Could I ever trust him? He cares enough to behave like this? He adores me? Does adore equal love? I ignored all of Harry's pillow talk in the beginning. All of the "you're mine" crap and his declaration of never letting me leave rubbish. He said the word love a lot, but not in the context I so desperately wanted to hear. "I love you in lace", "I love sleepy sex with you", "I love having you here". Should I have looked further into all of it? Was he telling me what I wanted to hear but in a backwards way? He persistently sought reassurance from me that I would stay. If all he needed was comfort that I was staying put, then I did that plenty of times, didn't I? I always told him I would stay. But I didn't know about The Manor then. And now I do, and I've left.
He always wanted me in lace, not leather. He claimed me as his. He was possessive to the absolute maximum – unreasonably so. He always wanted to keep me covered, never wanting me to be exposed to anyone but him. Leather, sharing and the exposure of flesh must be a regular occurrence at The Manor, surely. Was he was trying to make me the complete opposite of everything he knows? Everything he's use to? But what about the sex?
I sit up. I need to talk to him. I can get over The Manor, I think. But I know, for absolutely sure, I'll never get over Harry. This is an easy decision really. Seeing him so fraught and desperate must at least mean he's hurting, surely? He wouldn't behave like that if I didn't mean something to him, would he? So many questions...
I look at Ian. A small smile spreads across his cheeky face. 'My work here is done.' he mimics Harry's words as he gets up on a little wince. 'That evil cow, she'll be moaning when I can't perform.'
I smile on the inside. This bombshell, obviously, hasn't affected Beth in the same way it has me. I throw on the nearest clothes I can find – which happen to be ripped jeans and a Jimmy Hendrix t-shirt – and grab my car keys. Tears flood my eyes and guilt punches a great hole in the stomach. I've made a monumental fuck up. He was the one who wanted the cards on the table. He was going to tell me about The Manor, but was there something else he wanted to tell me? I hope so, because I'm on my way to find out. Nick's warning about building dreams on Harry comes crashing back into my mind as I race down to my car. Maybe, he's right, but I can't live not knowing.