Chapter 27
"Hi, honey. Your dad and I really wish we could be with you to wish you a happy New Year. I miss you so much, baby girl. I hope you're having a good time in London, and I know you'll do good in school this year. Make us proud, sweetheart. Call us back when you have a minute, we miss you so much. Have a good night, Elena. I hope you're having fun."
That's the message I wake up to on the train when it's announced on the speakers that we've reached London. From the top of my head, I assume it's just turned midnight in Boston, so I imagine they made the call as soon as they celebrated the New Year.
All my life, New Year's was spent watching the New York countdown with the entire family. We'd watch the ball come down and announce a new beginning; sometimes it was at our house, sometimes at my cousins, but we never missed a single countdown. For some reason it makes my heart ache that this year, because they're watching the countdown without me, and I'm a wreck and, alone on a train.
I know I should call them back, it would be the best thing to do since the celebration doesn't end until dawn, but my mom would know something's wrong with the sound of my voice. She's not always the best to detect lies, but I imagine how raspy my voice must be after the amount of crying. Just the thought of a tall glass of cold water makes my throat seem dryer than it already is.
The wagon is still empty with the many stops, but then again not many people must be taking the train at this time of the night on New Year's. I gather my bags and make a bee line to the door, jumping on the platform as the ten other people in the entire train to the same. It's already five thirty in the morning, but the sun is still hidden under the multiple clouds. I walk to the bus station because walking from here to the house with my suitcase couldn't be easy, and I wait.
Ella, Gemma and Anne have texted me. All their messages ask if I've arrived to London safe and sound, but I delete every single one of them. I've also got one missed call from Anne, but no messages left on my voicemail. The only message I wouldn't delete would be Harry's, but there's none.
He doesn't even care.
~~~
"Table two is ready," Mike, the cook at the restaurant, calls from the kitchen as he hands me three plates across the island.
I pick up the breakfast meals, the scent overwhelming and making my stomach growl in unsatisfied hunger, and I deliver them to the three mid-twenty girls chatting at table two. "Anything else for you, ladies?"
"No, thank you," one of them smiles politely at me while the girl on her right giggles into the sleeve of her shirt. I ignore it, since it's probably because of what they've been talking about, and focus on the two other.
"Excellent," I smile back as I slide my pad in my apron pocket. "Enjoy your meals. Holler if you need anything."
Holler, I chuckle sadly to myself. Where the hell do I think I am? Alabama, 1969?
The clock strikes eleven when I get back to the kitchen area behind the counter, my stomach growling even more for not having any food since seven in the morning. I'd taken a break at nine, but I hadn't been particularly hungry as much as thirsty. Now, however, my body feels like it needs food to function properly until the end of my shift at noon.
I start wiping down the counter after asking Mike to make me a bagel, the restaurant starting to get busier at this time of the day since classes are slowly ending. It always gets busy at noon, but two girls replace me for my shift since I have to leave for school. Though we serve breakfast, we serve it all day. Most breakfast places stop serving such meal in the early afternoon, switching to heavier foods for dinner, but we stick with breakfast all day long, it's probably what makes us as popular. Who doesn't like a good breakfast at any time of the day?
I wander around serving food, cleaning the counters and doing the register for my clients. I pocket my tips and pick up the dishes from the tables before wiping them clean for the new clients. At first I thought that being a waitress would be hard, and my job is definitely less stressful than Nando's, for instance, but I got the hang of it very quickly. Some usual clients even recognize me, even though my shifts tend to change a lot. It's good to see some faces you know once in a while.
When my shift finally ends an hour later, I hang my apron in the back store and switch my work shoes to my rain boots. There's still no snow in London, but it's wet and rainy, and shoes aren't enough to keep my feet dry when I walk on the street. I haven't brought a spare pair of clothes, but I have plenty of time to stop by my dorm to change before my class starts. I have too much time to know what to do with it these days, to a point where my dorm has become suffocating.
"Have a good day, Mike," I call at him and wave while I button up my coat.
He waves at me with his spatula and gives me a wide toothy smile. '"Good day, kid," he barks in his strong Scottish accent. "Do well in school this afternoon."
I roll my eyes at him. "Thanks. Do well for your wife's birthday tonight."
Mike throws his head back and laughs loudly, remembering our inappropriate conversation from the day before about dinner and sex in a pile of rose petals. It's his wife's thirty-fifth birthday, but apparently she insists on saying it's her thirtieth. Mike still went all the way with the surprise to make it perfect, and she thinks she's only coming to the restaurant for a dinner of pancakes. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten a single advice you gave me. Now scram, you've been living here for a week and you need to ace your first class."
"Bye, Mike."
I've filled up my Oyster card for the month of January as soon as I got back to London last week and I hop on the underground for the short two stations it takes to get to the dormitory.
I could've walked, but rain and I don't get along very well.
The day after I got back from Holmes Chapel, I searched through the uni website if anyone was looking for a roommate. School was closed on the first of January, and therefore I couldn't make any calls, but I didn't hesitate on the following day to call the woman in charge of student accommodation at L Met to ask her if the dorms were filled up for the new semester. She found me a triple on the other side of campus where two sophomores were looking for a roommate. She said she'd add it on my school bill and I moved in the next day, carrying most of my belongings through London by bus and metro. I'd gotten glares and comments about being homeless, and I did see two or three photographers take my picture as I walked out of the big house, but I was too busy being focused on not shedding tears as I walked out of there with all my belongings to even bother to care.
Harry still wasn't back the day I moved out, and I haven't heard of him or anyone ever since the night I left on New Year's. Though I'd promised I'd send a text as soon as I got home safe, I never did. I couldn't get myself to acknowledge what happened.
I found myself dialing Harry's number a good five times, but I couldn't do that either. If he didn't want to hear from me, then I couldn't force him to. For some reason I'm convinced he wouldn't have answered anyway, not after the look he gave me at the bar. He doesn't care. And knowing that all I would've done on the phone would be to cry and scream at him, asking him why he did it, it would be sort of useless. He did it because he wanted to, I have to understand that.
So I try to spend most of my time out of the small dorm and at work or anywhere I can be, because even though I'm lucky enough to get my own room in a triple, the walls are paper thin and if I'm all alone I can't help but cry. Only this week, I've worked forty-five hours; my boss is still on vacation and she agreed to give me as many hours as possible.
The dormitory building is a lot smaller and older than the one I lived in, in LA. It almost looks like an old orphanage with the white walls and barricaded windows. I live on the first floor, a small apartment-like place with a tiny kitchen with a couch, one bathroom with no bath and three even smaller bedrooms. There're no desks, so if you need to study and work, you sit on your bed or in the kitchen area. The bedroom is big enough for a bed, a dresser and a small closet.
The girls have lived together for an entire year and a half already, but the third one dropped out of school. We hardly ever run into each other, it seems like we share a very different schedule, but from what I know about Alicia and Emily, they're good people. They're not home when I walk in; the flat is silent aside from the loud footsteps above, because the ceilings too are paper thin.
I couldn't take everything with me to the dorm, but I emptied the bedroom at Harry's house and stored everything in the garage. I figured I could ship them to Boston whenever I'd have time. I did, however, place Captain Oats and Princess Sparkle on top of the small white dresser occupying one entire wall of my new room, and I glued my favorite post-it next to it even though looking at it brings tears to my eyes. I just hope that Harry doesn't throw everything away when he finds out that I've kept a lot there.
I change into more comfortable clothes, so leggings and a loose sweatshirt, and I put my combat boots on and a thin coat because I can't stay in this room. It's overwhelmingly small and having to stare at four small walls for hours is killing me. I've got two hours to waste until my class at two o'clock, so I'm going to spend it outside instead of indoors. The umbrella doesn't do it for the look, so I slide it in my purse along with my school agenda and schedule, and pull my hood on top of my head to cover my hair from the rain. Another transformation is my hair; I've finally managed two days ago to swipe my bangs to the side, as it was getting in my eyes and itching. I've parted my hair to the side again and pinned my fringe with a bobby pin for now, until it holds naturally in its place. I feel like myself again.
Campus moves a lot on the first day of school. Everyone is antsy about starting classes again, looking for classrooms and meeting with people they haven't seen in a while. I, on the other hand, wander around campus with my headphones and my music blaring, not even bothering to look in advance for my classroom. I don't pay attention to the thirty-seven thousand other people attending this school, I just walk around until it's time for class to start.
At one thirty, I make my way to the building where my course is supposed to be held. I've had classes here before so I can find myself around easily, but I was sad last week not to find Alfie's name on the class list when I looked it up on the internet. Last time I checked, only one of my class lists wasn't up on the internet yet, and on four out of five classes, Alfie wasn't in any of them. I wouldn't know if he did it on purpose, since he still hasn't replied to any of my messages, but unless he changed his schedule last minute, I don't expect to know anyone in this class.
However, some people seem to know me. As I approach the hall where my class will be given this afternoon, I feel the looks on me even though I can't hear what people are saying. Lips move, glares are given, words are whispered, but when I look around to face the people, they immediately go back to their business.
So it is me that they're talking about.
The class is half empty when I walk in, so I sit three rows from the back, not exactly in the middle but not on the side either. Three girls sitting two rows in front of me turn around and, even though I can't hear them with my music playing, they're looking straight at me and whispering. I'd never witnessed judgements and comments in uni so far, or at least not in the UK, so this seems very uncharacteristic, but they're clearly talking about me. I subtly click pause on my music, keeping my eyes on my phone long enough to pretend I'm texting, but at least I can hear them.
"I'm sure it's her," one of them says in a thick British accent, her big hazel eyes traveling from me to her friend. "I've seen her on magazines and on Tumblr. She was in one of my courses last semester."
"She's stupid for staying here, then," the other one replies in a similar accent, her words muffled with her obnoxious giggles. "He's clearly mentioned in all his interviews that he's single. She must be mental."
Excuse me? I'm mental? I'm about to get back at them but I realize that I'm not supposed to be listening. They keep talking, whispering even more when they seem to notice my expression changing at their words, but they talk anyway until the professor announces the beginning of the lecture.
I've seen interviews where Harry mentioned he was single, and he was, because clearly he'd never expected me to come back. And with all the pictures from the holidays, for sure they can recognize me.
I turn on my laptop and start searching my name. First courses are never really important; the professor explains the class, passes the syllabus, and then we see one or two concepts that will be defined again on the second class when people are done making their course changes. So I Google myself and find pictures of myself walking back from work today, getting off the subway, coming out of my dormitory, et cetera. Some photos are HD, others are taken from a phone, and a chill runs down my spine at the thought that someone followed me. How did people take pictures less than two hours ago and already posted them on the internet?
Fifteen minutes later, new pictures are posted on Twitter of me sitting in class. The pictures are taken from the back, maybe even from the window, so I know I'm being watched. I look around to find the source, but everyone seems to be looking at me suspiciously. Every time I look somewhere, eyes turn and glare, but they turn quickly again when they notice I've spotted them.
All this stalking because I've been seen with Harry.
Halfway throughout the class, new pictures are posted on Twitter of me with a great view on my laptop screen, where I'm clearly Googling myself. The title next to the picture says, Sucking for fame?
I wince at the misinterpretation. The barman at the pub in Holmes Chapel had used the same expression.
Before the class is even over, I pack my laptop back into my purse and I quietly leave the room but not without catching some attention from a few people who start giggling and whispering. As soon as I get back to my dorm, I need to change my schedule and take this class another day.
As I walk on the street back to my dorm, I can't spot any photographers, but I can't trust anyone. The rain hasn't slowed outside, if not, it's even worse. There are less people on campus than there were earlier in the afternoon since classes started again at two o'clock and don't usually end before five, but I still find myself feeling glares and dirty looks from everyone. I walk on the street and take the long way from around the school to get to my dorm instead of walking through the buildings, just because I feel like there might be more people inside since it's raining. I put my music back on and look at the ground while I walk.
When I slide my residence card in the slot at the door, the light turns green and I walk inside the building to be met by a couple of girls chatting by a door.
My neighbours.
Their faces turn and snap at me, mouths agape. One of them subtly tries to call over her roommates, but I clench my jaw to hold back the tears and practically jog to my door. I can hear them talking behind me, more doors opening in the hall and the elevator doors opening to reveal more people, but I struggle to put the key into the slot, this lock being the usual key-and-slot type of lock. I close the door as soon as I'm inside my dorm and rest my back against the back of it to take a deep breath.
Once my breathing has gone back to normal and I've succeeded this far without actually crying, a loud knock on the door makes me squeal in surprise. Unfortunately, those doors aren't equipped with a peep hole, so I quickly put the chain on and open it.
"Are you Elena? Elena Reed?" the girl asks in a high-pitched voice.
I don't reply.
"You're Harry Styles' girlfriend, right?" the girl who's about my age squeals excitedly. "Oh, my God. It is you!"
Behind her is a small crowd eight or ten people, which I assume is the total amount of people living on our floor other than my two roommates and I. "Can I help you with anything?" my voice cracks out but still manages to make sense.
"Can you bring him over?"
A girl in the back of the group giggles. "Oh my God, imagine if we hear them having sex!"
"Elsa," her friend giggles, swatting her arm. "Harry specifically stated in GQ magazine that he's only slept with two people."
"That was last year!" the girl in the back throws back at her, sighing in exasperation as if it's so obvious that Harry has had sex with more people. Because it truly is, and I know it. And it hurts. "He's Harry Styles. The two girls he mentioned were probably the girls he'd slept with the night before. He clearly misunderstood the question."
Misunderstood the question. Unfortunately he knew exactly what he was doing that night at the pub, and he didn't misunderstand that at all.
"So, can you bring him over?" the girl right in my face asks again, taking my attention back to her instead of the two girls arguing in the back.
Everyone seems to have something to say about my relationship with Harry, so I politely excuse myself. "I've got things to do. I'll talk to you later."
Just as I close the door completely, all I can hear are the small comments. "She's so rude!" "What does he see in her?" "Gosh, her hair has more split ends than my dog." "Jamie, your dog is hairless. He has a disease." "Exactly."
This can't be happening. This cannot be fucking happening!I back up from the door as soon as it's closed, but I can still hear the whispers behind it, not even concealed by the excess knocks from the people trying to get me to open the door again.
The flat happens to be on the side of the building, so the window in our small living room/kitchen gives on another building, so no one can see me through it. I still however fly instantly across the room to close the shades in case someone decides to invade my privacy like they did in class and take photos from there. Thankfully, my room doesn't have any windows.
So I hide in it for the rest of the day with my headphones on, crying because if I take them off, all I think about is Harry.
But I can't sleep and the knocks become louder and louder. The floors squeak in the rooms above as people suddenly start walking loudly and stomping their feet, the talking becoming incredibly loud from outside my room and someone calling my name from the hall. I want to scream at them, tell them to shut up and to leave me alone, but deep down I know it wouldn't help at all. Although at this point, I don't see what else could happen.
Stop! I want to cry out. Tears stream down my face and I sob in my pillow because I can't get him out of my head with all those girls screaming names at me. I see his green orbs as he spotted me in the pub and bent down to kiss that girl. They're staring right at me and I can even see a hint of a smirk as he presses his lips on the girl's, as if all this time he'd been with me to fuel my love for him until he could throw my heart on the ground and happily stomp on it.
When I push my body off of the bed, one of my headphones slips from my ear and I realize how much the screaming has increase. The knocking on the door is almost enough to break the door down, so I quickly run around the room and gather my bag and coat, and I close my bedroom door behind me.
At this point I don't care if my face is puffy from crying, I wipe the dried tears with my sleeves and ignore the ones still falling.
"Three. Two. One," I tell myself quickly, eyes closed to take a deep breath, before I snap the door open. The amount of people has doubled, maybe tripled, waiting for me to leave the room. They start screaming and cheering, asking questions about Harry, but I'm distracted and focused on my mission to lock my door and leave the building as fast as possible. I struggle to lock the door just as I had struggled to unlock it earlier, but this time I'm pushed around and yelled at.
--------------------
Chapter End Notes :
Heyyy!
So I'm aware that the beginning of this chapter was slow, but it was really to understand what's going to happen in the next few chapters.
So, what do you think will happen? with the stalking and all?
Don't forget to comment and vote!!Thanks!:D
Have a good week!
-Katexx