Dropping Harry off at the airport had to be the hardest thing I've done in a while. I'd never seen him look so defeated. That usual playful twinkle in his eyes was gone, sadness replacing it as quickly as if it'd been hiding there all along.
Even though I ended up late for work it was worth it to see him off and hold on to him one last time. He's never held me as hard as he did that morning, both of us fighting back tears that I definitely didn't expect. Neither of us believed our voices wouldn't crack if we said a proper goodbye so we settled for a quick, "See you." I had to keep reminding myself it was only a couple of months as I walked away from the private airport apron. As long as they didn't add on any new shows we'd be back together as thick as thieves soon enough. I finally let the tears fall once I was safely in my car but only for a second and only a few.
That was almost a month ago. The tour seems to be going well according to the Twitter feedback and the reviews from different websites. However lately I've heard from Harry less and less. It's been a week and a half since our last full conversation and even that was cut short. I try to remind myself that this is tour life for him and that at the end of the day we aren't together. I don't hold any significant place in his life like a girlfriend would. He doesn't have to cut out time for me and I've learned to accept that.
Our contact when he first left has me spoiled, it started out strong. We'd Skype and talk late night or early in the morning depending on what part of the world he was in. He always had this tired look in his eyes that I wished I could snap my fingers and remove. I've always hated seeing him drained like that in pictures before I met him and to have that same exhausted expression directed at me made my chest ache. I felt so bad about keeping him awake or about him waking up early just to talk to me but he insisted that it was what he wanted to do. We texted constantly, in fact once or twice he texted me while they were on stage, which was so surreal. But by far, my favorite thing we did was our Snapchat souvenirs. Whenever one of us thought of the other or saw something one of us would like we would send a snap of it. Sometimes he'd send me pictures of the ocean or some monument in one of the amazing places they visited. But other times, my favorites if I'm honest, he'd send me pictures of himself. Simple selfies of him smiling, showing me those dimples I love to poke or of him making a silly face that seemed to always arrive to my phone when I needed it most.
Every now and then one of the boys would photobomb him or steal his phone and send me something crazy. I got more pictures of bare asses and nostrils than I could ever need courtesy of Niall and Louis with their "pranks" until Harry started keeping his phone on him at all times. It wasn't long after then that our conversations got shorter until they were reduced to sporadic texts. Soon enough I didn't wake up to cute selfies or pictures of the sunrise or sunset and I missed them. I missed him, like I've never missed anyone before and that alarms me.
Everything about my relationship with this man strikes fear into my heart. But I can't ignore the feelings it left behind in it's wake. Yearning moves through me like a parasite latching onto my doubt and pessimism, sucking them dry moment by moment.
There's no denying that I've fallen for him. I'm not completely in love but I'm a good portion of the way there. That realization in and of itself is a frightening miracle to me. I genuinely thought I was broken, that I no longer had the ability to feel after recovering from Charlie. But the truth is I haven't even tried. I never felt like anyone was worth the hassle until now and I hate it. I can see a future with Harry just as vividly as if it were our present situation. But I can also see the other side of that brightness because where there's light there's always darkness.
In our time apart I've had time to really take a step back and look at myself. I've got issues that no one else sees clearly but me. My reasons probably don't make sense to most but they resonate so deeply in my heart I feel them with every beat. It's like a stab accompanies every thump but when I'm with him it's less painful. He's morphine or novocaine, he numbs me yet he makes me feel good at the same time. It's safe to say I'm addicted to the feeling, the feeling of peace. The only war inside my head or heart is the one I create for myself, he never puts me at odds.
Since the day I met him he's lifted me, before the feelings or emotions got involved, he just has that type of spirit. Add that to the fact that he's never tried to change me and that he lets me be myself and it feels like a match made in heaven. But lately with the upsurge in feelings, on my part, I can't help but wonder is it enough? Is being just his friend enough for the rest of our lives? Am I greedy for wanting more or do I know I'll tire of the snack and want the full course?
The ultimate question I've been pondering is, is it worth it? I know me better than anyone so I know I'm going to fůck this up. I couldn't say how or when but I know I will. Self-sabotage, it's what I do. Whether I do it intentionally or not I don't know, but if you know you're going to do it does that count as intent?
The last thing I want to do is push for more and then screw it up. I couldn't bear hurting him and beyond that I couldn't handle him hurting me. It happens one way or the other, in my experience. For whatever reason life won't let me be great, it won't let me have nice things something always has to come along and ruin it. Whether it's my self-doubt and paranoia or the inevitable time when whomever or whatever it is bores of me, it always ends and I'm always hurt.
So that's why the number one question in my mind has been if it's worth it? Take the blue pill and keep the little hits of your drug or take the red pill and overdose. The options are just that simple but the answer is still unclear.
Even though mentally I've been bogged down I haven't allowed it to stop me professionally. The contract with Pebbles Publishing had to be worked and reworked but it's finally where I want it. I'll be getting a signing bonus as well as only signing for a three book deal. From that point I'll decide whether I want to stay with them or move on. I didn't want anything too long term and we agreed that the books published would be of my choosing as long as I kept Fresh Start on the table. As an added bonus, or pressure to sign depending on how you look at it, they'll be announcing my signing at their event in a few weeks. Apparently some of the donors that will be there are fans of my work so I got a special invitation, my name will be on the V.I.P. list and everything.
Although I should've signed by now, I haven't. Something about it doesn't feel right and as much as I don't want to admit it I know what it is. Omitting the truth about Fresh Start has me hesitant to sign anything, especially with it still on the table for publishing. I've been trying to get in touch with Harry for the last week to tell him everything and lift the weight from my signing hand but he's been overly busy and unreachable. So in my purest form, to distract myself I've been seeing Berkley again.
I'm preparing for a late dinner date at this very moment, it should be interesting. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and he's been dropping hints all week that he wants me to go home with him to visit his family. As sweet as it is that he'd consider me take home to mama material, I'm not. At least not his mama.
Berkley and I have what they would call in the wild a mutualistic relationship. We work hand in hand, each of us benefiting from our relationship but it's, for lack of a better phrase, just business. There's nothing there between us besides a lot of sexual tension and a decent friendship. He doesn't know me any more than I could say I know him, he hasn't even tried honestly.
But, truth be told it's not totally Berkley's fault that he doesn't know me. I drew clear lines with him from the beginning and kept close watch on where his footing was so that he didn't step over the line. I watched him so intently that I didn't notice Harry getting too close until it was too late.
As I slip into my black off the shoulder skater dress I let my mind wander back to Harry and that future I can see so vividly. We'd get together and have a wonderful courtship, he and I being open an honest with one another always. A few years in I'd drop subtle hints that I was ready to get engaged, even though my subtlety is normally the exact opposite. He'd propose in some romantic way that only he could think of, some way that would make me love him even more from the gesture alone because that's just how he is. We'd plan the wedding for a year and get married somewhere private, maybe even elope so the paparazzi couldn't sell any pictures of us. I can see us now on some amazing beach sipping something vibrantly colored from tall glasses as we worked on making those babies he's been dying to have. They'd be the perfect mix of the two of us, his eyes and dimples and a mixture of our complexions and facial features. Curly haired little boys and a darling little girl that we both spoiled rotten. We'd name her anything but Darcy since that's a name that's been beaten to death but whatever our kids names we'd choose together.
I can just imagine talking about them lying in bed, his ear to my belly, asking the baby if they liked the name or not telling them how many times to kick for yes or no. I'd have a smile on my face and tears in my eyes because everything I could possibly want would be a reality. I'd have the man of my dreams, the home and career I've always wanted, and our beautiful kids.
Sighing, I pull myself from my fantasy. I sit my makeup brush down after contouring my features just enough for a little glow in the restaurant lighting. My hair is pulled to the side, showing off my diamond studs and bold maroon lip gloss paints my lips.
It's seldom I let myself have these kinds of nights. Nights where I dream of the future I want but will most likely never have. I can't help feeling that there's something broken inside of me that can't be fixed and to be honest I don't know if I want it to be. Once I'm fixed I can be broken all over again. I'm perfectly fine with my heart being unattainable. These nights make me hope and hope breeds expectations and setting those can and in my experience always lead to disappointment.
Leaving is always an option for everyone else. Not for me. My feelings run too deep too fast and hold me hostage to their abuse. And that's not me playing victim that's me stating facts. It's never easy for me to leave someone I love because I always love too hard. I give out chance after chance until I don't have any more I can give. I make something from nothing, excuses and reasons from dust until there's no more magic to weave. Only then are my shackles released, but by then it doesn't matter, I'm ruined.
I've spent the last half decade of my life fixing my broken pieces and I'm still not done. I've never put myself to the test to see if I can fall in love with someone without falling out of love with myself. A huge part of me believes it's impossible so I build. Walls upon walls, barriers upon barriers to keep my heart and sanity safe. I've spent so much time fortifying myself to love I forgot what it feels like. But the bad things, those I can't forget.
I remember every terrible moment in vivid detail, like it happened yesterday. However the good things that happened in my past, the things you're actually supposed to take from your life experience, I don't recall. It's almost like I made some mystical deal. I'd exchange my good memories for the bad ones not to hurt as much. Not to sear into my memory, my movements, my every action like they just occurred. And in true backwards Bailey fashion I choose to allow the memories to keep their power in spite of the agreement. I choose to let them guide me like my only source of light on a dark path. Subsequently hurting and healing as I move through the journey that is my life.
It's not just about Charlie abandoning me it's everyone else along with him. Once every person you let in leaves you one can only start to wonder, is it me? As the only common denominator between the different people and the different types of relationships I've had with them, me being the problem is the only solution.
I was always so afraid to love and nearly the second I would overcome my fear they'd leave. I always felt so betrayed, violated even. Like I had given them something so sacred only for them to chew it up and spit it back in my face. It took me a long time to realize that when I open up to someone it's not a big deal to everyone involved. I had to understand that just because it means something to me it doesn't demand that it has to mean anything to them.
Whipping out my phone from my clutch I try and call Harry again to no avail. I can't remember the exact city they're in but I'm pretty sure it's the next day there. Instead of waiting for him to call back I shoot him and the rest of the boys a text telling them happy Thanksgiving, at least it's something.
A knock sounds at my front door as I put my phone away and after slipping into the umpteenth pair of Louboutin heels I've bought since moving here I rush to the door. Berkley's looking down at his phone as I open it, his agile fingers tapping away at the screen. He looks nice, his hair is slicked into a sexy modern twist on a forties style, his quiff standing tall. A soft grey suit, crisp white shirt, and navy blue tie cling to his body, his shiny black oxfords glistening in the dim lighting.
Instead of waiting for him to look up I walk out onto the porch and lock the door behind me. I don't bother greeting him as I walk to the car, he follows behind stuck in the trance he goes into when answering business emails. I don't remember much from our night out but I know he spent most of it with his face in his phone. It's probably why he didn't notice me getting as drunk as I did.
By the time we get in the car he's done with his emailing and finally looks at me. "You look beautiful as usual. Very elegant."
I smile at the compliment, he never fails to dish those out, "Thank you Berkley, you look very handsome as well."
He smirks as he backs out of my driveway and onto the road. Conversation is slow as we ride, the radio filling the car. I can't stop my mind from comparing this ride to the millions of rides Harry and I have gone on. It's always filled with laughter and fun but even in silence it's still enjoyable.
Just as the ten minute trip starts to feel unbearable 'Perfect by 1D' comes on the radio. I can see Berkley stiffen but he doesn't move to change the station which I'm glad for. I haven't listened to a One Direction song since Harry and I last spoke and now I remember why. My chest feels weighted down at the sound of his voice, knowing I haven't had it lull me to sleep or wake me up in the past days.
The song ends as we park outside of a restaurant's name that I can't pronounce. Holding in a laugh I loop my arm through Berkley's as we walk. He hasn't said too much which isn't that unusual but something about him is off. He seems nervous, his normal overly confident swagger is missing from his walk even his energy is different.
I sit down across from him once our waiter pulls out my chair. Thanking him I turn my attention back to Berkley who's staring intently at the menu, biting his lip. I can only imagine what's going through his head right now but I hope it's none of those things. Worst case scenario he's proposing, bad but not as bad case scenario is he's going to ask me to his parents' place like I assumed. Even if I am missing Thanksgiving with my family this year it doesn't mean I want to spend it being arm candy in front of his. I might be missing the actual day of because I couldn't get a flight but my flight leaves the day after and I'm staying for a few days. I don't have the time to entertain his family and then mine. I only have a small amount of sanity left and I need it all to deal with my relatives.
"I missed you," he mutters barely above the noise of the restaurant.
I laugh lightly, brushing the comment off, "We just saw each other earlier at work."
He shakes his head, a nervous smile taking his lips, "I know, I just... we've been disconnected lately I feel."
I want to roll my eyes. I'm honestly trying to figure out when we connected in the first place. Aside from that one moment we had in the office we haven't really "connected" at all.
Our waiter comes back just in time to interrupt my silent response. I don't know what to say to Berkley but I know exactly what to tell the waiter.
After ordering Berkley's eyes connect with mine again. They have me captivated at the similarities between his and Harry's especially in this lighting. Both of their eyes reflect dim lighting so sexily I can hardly keep control of myself. I'm lost in those eyes, imagining they're someone else's, until they fill with expectance.
Realizing he must've asked me a question I look away to gain control of my senses. "Come again?"
He lets out a low frustrated breath before repeating himself, "You should probably think about moving with all of the crime that's been taking place surrounding your neighborhood lately. Not to mention the fact that you're living kind of far out from work. I guess ultimately I wanted to know if... you'd like to move in with me?"
Wine splashes in my glass as I choke on it mid sip. He couldn't have just asked me that. There's no way. "You can't be serious," I whisper in disbelief.
"I am," he replies, clearly having heard my bad attempt at talking to myself, "I think we've reached a point in our relationship where we should start getting more serious about each other. This is probably the longest relationship I've ever had and I feel like we've had a connection from day one."
My eyes are wide with astonishment. "True as that may be. We've only known each other a short amount of time Berkley. Our connection is nowhere near where it should be for two people to move in together. That's a huge and very serious step."
He shrugs as if nothing in the world matters to him, "I get that but we can learn each other as we live together. It's more of an adventure that way don't you think? What do you say?"
Hell to the mother-effing no, is what I want to say but I can't seem to get the words past my lips. I'm in shock and as weird as it sounds, flattered and impressed. I've got to give it to him, he knows what he wants and he's going for it, I applaud him for that. However, he isn't who I want and ultimately I'm not who he needs.
Just as I open my mouth to tell him everything my phone rings. Foster The People's Houdini plays loud and proud from my clutch signifying exactly who it is.
"I'm so sorry," I lie, "I have to take this, excuse me." Snatching my phone from my clutch before I can miss the call I rush to the back where it's quieter.
"Give me a second Houdini I've got to find some quiet in here," I say excitedly into the phone as I push into the restroom. Luckily it's a one person bathroom so I can feel free to talk.
Locking the door, I pace the bathroom floor I'm so giddy. The only sounds aside from the muffled noise of outside are my heels clacking across the tile.
"Okay I'm here. I've missed you like crazy... there I said it. Where have you been?" I ramble out, my heart racing in excitement.
He takes a while to answer, so long that I pull the phone away to make sure we're still connected. "How could you?" he asks finally, his voice low and level but there's an edge to it.
"H-How could I what Harry? You're scaring me," I admit, unsure of if he knows I'm out with Berkley or not. He confessed he was pissed about us hanging out the last time but I didn't see any paparazzi outside.
"Our latest author Bailey Duncan is set to release a blazing hot tell all about her secret relationship with pop star Harry Styles called Fresh Start in the Summer," he reads, from where I don't know, "The book was originally a hit on her Spoodle account, SheKnows. She has over six hundred thousand people reading it and it's not even complete, those kinds of numbers caught our attention. We're all very excited for the release of the novel, Bailey especially. It's always been her dream to be on the New York Times Best Sellers List and we're sure with this one she'll make it."
I gasp at the words he's reading, my heart lurching. I can't believe they made me sound like such a using parasitic bįtch. But before I can even explain Harry cuts in again.
"So I ask again, how could you? After I let you into my home, I brought you around my friends, I told you things about me that I've never told anyone and this is how you betray me?" The more he talks the louder he gets. "I've been used before but fůck if I thought it would be by you Bailey. Jesus! You were so good too, making me believe every lie that came out of your goddāmn mouth. Just know that this book will never see the light of day. My lawyers will make sure of that. If even one fůcking word gets printed I'm suing you and that shįt publishing house for everything you've got!"
My heart drops a few more feet, holding onto it's rightful place by a thread. "Harry just let me explain-" I start but he stops me with a cold laugh.
"I don't have shįt else to say to you. This... whatever it is, is over. I'll mail you your keys to your car and your condo I'd appreciate it if you'd do the same," he snaps before ending the call.
I'm alive, it's the only way I know my heart is still beating. The ache radiating from what feels like a hole in my chest is nearly unbearable. Still holding my phone to my ear, it feels like it's a million degrees. I rip it away and search for the article that just ruined one of the happiest parts of my life.
It doesn't take long for the article to pop up along with a million and one gossip blogs' take on the situation. I don't have to scroll far to see the smiling face of Henry Bomer and his quotes all over the article. Rage races through me like lightning to dry grass, shocking me then setting me ablaze.
Before I lose it and call him to curse him out I sting together a strongly worded email declining their offer and refusing to work with them further. I also mention possible legal action for misrepresenting me and slander. I have no idea if either charge would stick but I'd have no problem trying. It's bad enough that they patched together my life and similarities in the book to form their own conclusion, but then he had the nerve to spread it with the world without my consent. He has no idea how ruined I am once this gets out in the U.S. It's bad enough that the news has already broken overseas tomorrow morning the press and the fans are going to be calling for my head. I can feel tears welling but I hold them in. I won't do this, I refuse to do this especially in a dāmned public bathroom.
Taking a deep breath I close my eyes until the tears retreat then open the door. Ignoring the strange looks as I walk back to the table. I can't even sit down, my insides are shaking so badly.
"Nice of you to show back up," Berkley sasses humorlessly. "You've been gone for thirty minutes. I was just sitting here alone like an idiot."
"Can you take me home?" I ask, ignoring his attitude and everything else. The last thing on my mind right now is him aside from him being my way back to my bed.
His face softens when he looks at mine. "Sure."
I nod and walk towards the door leaving my plated food on the table. By the time he gets outside I have the car waiting, the valet just pulling up.
"I got your food wrapped up in case you want it later," he offers sweetly, bringing me that much closer to tears.
"Thanks," I breathe back throatily as I duck into the car. I just need to get home. I don't want to talk about anything.
We ride back to my place in silence until he parks in the driveway and turns to me. "If you're upset about what I asked you earlier I'm sorry," he explains, "I always have a knack for coming on too strong. I didn't mean to-"
I raise my hand to stop him, there's no need in both of us feeling like crap tonight. Mustering the strength and composure I reply, "It's not you Berkley. I just got some really troubling news on the phone that has me upset. I'm sorry I ruined our evening, I'll call you later." And with that I kiss his cheek and walk as quickly as I can to my door. I hear his car peel out of my neighborhood not to long after.
The second I lock my front door I fall to pieces. Tears rush from my eyes in waves and my icy heart feels shattered. It took everything in me to hold it in on the ride here which seemed to only make it build up into this unstoppable rain storm. A scream rips through my throat as I punch the wall trying to release some of the pent-up aggression I feel building higher and higher.
I'm just so fůcking mad. I'm angry with Henry for opening his big fůcking mouth. I'm angry with Harry for not giving me a chance to tell him my side of things. But most of all I'm infuriated with myself because he did give me a chance, when we were chest to chest in a tent on top of a mountain. There was nothing but space and opportunity and instead of nutting up and being honest I omitted a piece of the truth making it feel like a whole lie.
I need a drink.
Stumbling to the kitchen I dry my blurry eyes along the way. I can't breathe out of my nose and breathing from my mouth only forces sobs out that make me cry again. My hands land on bottles of everything in my fridge but nothing is alcoholic. Moving a few cartons of juice to the side I nearly scream in exaltation at the bottle of wine lying down behind them.
I can't pour the glass of Merlot any faster. Grabbing the glass by the stem I place it to my mouth and swiftly swallow down the sweetness before slamming it down to pour another. I glare at the bottle, contemplating on leaving the glass behind and taking the half bottle to bed with me but decide against it. Alcohol isn't going to solve my problems, if anything it'll only make them worse. My mind replays the drunk dialing incident, making me shudder. I may be sad about this but I won't drink myself into the pathetic frame of mind that says it's okay for me to leave weepy voicemails on his phone.
Stripping down I shower quickly and climb into bed with my laptop. The black cursor blinks against the stark white page of the word document calling me to write something, anything. As much trouble as writing has caused me I can't turn away from it. Not now, not when it's my only companion. The only thing in my life that knows me better than I know myself is a Word Document full of the words that pour from my soul and onto the paper. I find out things I didn't know about myself through my writing.
My finger hover over the keyboard before beginning, I can tell from the throbbing in my chest that I need to do some soul searching. Open heart surgery is probably a better description of it, every keystroke is a tool. A scalpel here, a retractor there, and a trusty pair of forceps to dig in and find the roots he planted down. I've got to get him out of my system before the pain turns into a festering wound.
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What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall liked the chapter!! So sorry it's late but to make up for it yall get another one for Thanksgiving!!!!
This chapter's Question...
What's your favorite food?
This chapter...
Harry! Fresh Start! Berkley! All of the shiz hit the fan in every single way. And after Bailey finally fully realized her feelings too!! Poor thing! Maybe there's hope for her in the next update :)
This chapter's song...
Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day. I used to be OBSESSED with Green Day back when they 1st came out and this was one of my favorite songs. I feel like the title fits this chapter the best but the lyrics aren't bad either lol
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: dianna_hardy, chocolateflgirl, larry_stylinson_1D_, TiaraWyatt, _Your_Remedy, unqiuelyyymeeee, samiramira, ThatGirl_xox, decewill and Ilexi_!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
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Until Next Time,
WBN