M A R Y
as weird as this may seem, seeing harry in his ray bans and trustee bandana walking up the steps to my front porch was the exact last thing id ever want to see.
i suggested that we could go to the starbucks where we met and see if anyone had found it for him, but he strongly suggested against it. he said that if someone found it they probably stole it, and that he hated people like that.
well, i guess he hated me. no big deal-- right?
wrong. truth was, deep down inside, every time he texted me or offered to come to my house i felt tiny butterflies in my stomach set flight. like i was on a rollercoaster.
so i opened the front door, and there he stood with the kindest expression on his face. it kind of sucked because i knew that i had what he was so worried about. what kind of secrets were in there, anyway?
"hello, mary." he said, rather formally. so this was what it felt like to be friends with harry. he had called to me in his time of need, and i was sorry to say that it was in vain. "nice to see you again."
"we literally saw each other yesterday." i laughed, but let him inside nonetheless. he gawked out the house despite the fact that his was probably more luxurious.
"your house looks so nice." he marveled. "almost nicer than the one louis-- i mean, the one that i own here in l.A."
my stomach dropped. he owned a house here? did that mean that i lived in the same city as him, and i had his journal?
god, i had prayed so much that he would fly back to england or something for their one year break. but he wanted to stay here, of all places.
i awkwardly ran my hand through my hair. it was sweating. "how about you sit in here and i make you a nice glass of lemonade?"
he shook his head politely. goodness, what was it going to take to satisfy him without having to go to my room? he didn't want anything. "where's your bathroom? i kind of have to wee."
i frowned. there were only two bathrooms in the house, one of which was located in my room. and dad had told me, before he left for work, that he had clogged the toilet with his shit and the plumber was coming to fix it later.
so either i was going to let harry try to unclog our plunged toilet, or i was going to let him hover dangerously close to where the journal lay.
"i have one in my room." i said quickly, and hated myself for it. "it's the only one that's.. erm, functional-- right now."
harrys cheeks turned a deep red, like he knew what i was talking about. what the heck, i just made harry styles blush! "well, lead the way, then." he smiled genuinely, and with a deep dread in my heart i started to walk towards my room.