Chapter 32
My first thought of the day is, What the fuck have I done?
The sun doesn't appear very often in the winter in England, but for some reason it had to come out today when some of us need it the less. I'm woken up by the strong, blinding rays bleeding from the curtain shades and it doesn't help nursing the hangover I'm trying to survive through. Beside me is a body that provides even more warmth to my awful morning, and for a second I wonder how Harry got in my bed, but I soon realize that I'm not even home. Or anywhere near Harry where I feel like I should be.
Vince lies under the sheets sprawled out on his stomach, bare naked just like I am with his arms tucked neatly under his pillow as head support. I watch him shift in his sleep when I sit up and take in the environment I'm in: messy one bedroom flat with no walls whatsoever between the bedroom, kitchen area and living room. All the furniture is black, paired with dark taupe walls and colored paintings framed on the walls where there aren't any windows. The table in the middle of the room is clustered, littered with papers, knick knacks, music instruments and alcohol bottles. The place we shared leftover cake in is still there, along with our shot glasses.
The apartment is very manly; it smells like a man, it looks like a man and it feels like a man. The air is thick with humidity from our sweat and cologne and alcohol. After coming back here last night, following a good dinner at the restaurant accompanied with one too many glasses of wine, we opened a bottle of Bailey's and fed our tipsy state into a drunken one. It'd been a nice dinner and we'd definitely had a nice time but I wouldn't have needed all this alcohol in my body if I hadn't slept with Harry during the afternoon.
Turns out that Vince does have a degree in finances but is currently working part time on a master's degree. Therefore in the meantime he's working at the bar because it pays more than working part time for a company in what he wants to do, which he hasn't exactly explained through. He didn't say much about himself, except that he's twenty-five and is a London native. I really didn't care much, anyway. All I did during the evening is try to forget some boy with curly hair.
Once the dizziness from sitting up and from the sun has lightly vanished, I retrieve my underwear and bra from the pile on the floor and cover my body with the dress I was wearing the night before. I can feel my hair being tangled in the bun on top of my head, my makeup dried after leaking on my face during sex, but everything feels wrong. I shouldn't be here and I shouldn't have gone to that date in the first place.
Harry had been nowhere to be found when I left the house and took the bus to the restaurant. His car was in the driveway along with the Mini Cooper I still haven't driven, but I assumed he was locked in his bedroom or in the gym. If I had seen him and if he'd said something, I probably wouldn't have left the house and though I know it would've been the right thing to do; now I have the chance to move on.
My stomach sinks when I catch a glimpse of my face in the bathroom mirror. My bangs are glued to my forehead from not being long enough to pull in my bun, my cheeks are flushed and shiny and I just look like a mess. I spray cold water on my skin and clean up the excess everything until I'm decent to go. Vince doesn't wake up when I scribble down my number on a napkin and he doesn't even stir when I close the door of the apartment on my way out.
Sunday morning is cold but sunny. This part of the city is completely unknown to me; I hardly remember getting here in the first place, but there's a bus stop down the street and I head straight to it, hoping it takes me to either to the train or to the tube.
My phone has died during the night. I click on the lock button for minutes but it never turns on, but I just hope I haven't received a message about Harry setting the house on fire. He was so livid when I left that I could've sworn there was smoke coming out of his ears, which could've resulted in igniting a fire out of anger inside the house. If that's the case, I'll literally have nowhere to live anymore.
I make it to a train station in twenty minute and travel to the other side of the city within another thirty. From the corner of the street, I can see the house is intact and flameless, which sort of makes me feel a teeny tiny little bit better. The anxiety is still there deep down, but I push it aside as I walk towards the house doing the walk of shame.
My presence doesn't go unnoticed when I close the door behind me as quietly as possible. After all, it's barely ten in the morning and Harry is usually asleep at this time. However, the heavy footsteps striding down the stairs lead me to believe the complete opposite.
"Where the fuck were you?" he shouts at the top of his lungs, face red with anger and eyes wide. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? What was the fucking point of buying a new damn phone if you're not going to answer it?"
I would say Harry looks tired from being up this early, but he looks like he hasn't slept at all. He's wearing clean clothes but his hair has the same disheveled look as yesterday accompanied with heavy dark circles shadowing the area under his eyes. I grimace at the thought of him staying up all night waiting for me when I was actually... Well, we all know what I was doing. "My phone died, I'm sorry," I mutter, taking my shoes off and picking them up. They aren't the kinds of pumps I'd leave in the closet with Harry's dirty boots.
"You're sorry?" he laughs humorlessly. "Being sorry won't forgive the fact that you had me worried sick. What if something happened? How would I have known if your phone was supposedly dead?"
I take a deep breath and spin on my heels to face him. "You wouldn't have known because it's none of your business, Harry," I say as calmly as possible. "Thank you for worrying, but I can take care of myself."
"Clearly you can't," he snaps, smashing his hand flat against the wall to prove his point, which is entirely unnecessary. I take a step back and climb on the stairs to create more distance between the two of us. I'm not scared of him, but his anger can take me by surprise. "You're grounded. No more going out unless it's for school or work, and if I can't drive you then someone else will."
My eyes widen. "What the hell, Harry, you're not my dad. You can't freaking ground me!" I shout at him, enjoying the height from the second step of the stairs I'm standing on because it my argument a lot more credible. "Jesus, you're unbelievable."
I spin on my feet to continue my way upstairs, but Harry grabs my wrist from the railing and makes me stumble down the steps. I let out a small cry in pain as my ankle twists, but he doesn't even react. "You're living in my house and you're under my rules for as long as I'm here," he growls, nostrils flaring.
"That's not fair." I fight back and thrash in his hold, but he never released my wrist. "I'm older than you, you can't ground me whether I'm living in this house or not."
"You're older but you're acting like a stupid slag right now."
His words may sting like hell but I can't find it in me to deny it. The thing is, he's entirely right; in two days I've slept with two different people, one of them that I love with all my broken heart and the other one that I barely know anything about. I part my lips to argue back but I don't even know what to say to argue with him since I can't. It isn't like I can deny what happened, because it did and he clearly knows it from the glare he's giving me.
But what I say next comes out of nowhere, and I regret it as soon as the words are out. "Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. I just wanted to see if I could feel again after you ruined me."
Time suddenly stops.
My entire body was already stinging from his harsh words but I wasn't expecting to feel my cheek sting this much after he slapped me. I look up at him, frozen in place with my vision blurred from all the tears pooling in my eyes, his face distorted and unclear, and I can't believe he just did that. His fingers slip gently from my wrist and I instantly bring it up to apply some pressure on the soon-to-be bruised skin, but even though it soothes the exterior pain, the damage inside has been done.
My breathing stops for a few seconds as I comprehend what just happened. Everything around me becomes silent, my breathing, his, even the TV that was playing beforehand in the background seems to have stopped even if none of us have moved. The world stops turning and the only thing I feel are the tears streaming down my face.
Harry brings his hand to my face and everything comes back in focus. I flinch away from his touch and a hurt expression flashes across his face, but just as I thought that the slap sobered me up completely, I vomit the content of my stomach on the stairs and probably a little bit on Harry as well.
~~~
It's early afternoon when I wake up in my bed, a yucky taste lingering in my mouth even though I took anti-emetics before lying down. I could hear Harry cleaning my mess downstairs before I fell asleep the first time, but I didn't bother to offer help. The alcohol was still too strong in my bloodstream to function properly.
I managed to plug my phone as soon as I got to the room, and now it's charged to almost eighty percent. Unfortunately, it's just now that I notice the forty messages and calls from Harry, ten voicemails-which is the maximum capacity of my answering machine-and three other calls from none other than Vince. I've left him very quickly this morning and I had assumed he'd call in spite the message I left on his table.
My legs can't be trusted right now. My head spins a little bit but the nausea has definitely vanished, leaving me slightly hungry and very, very thirsty. I sit up slowly and let my body adjust to the new position until I've mastered it, and I send a quick message to Vince to apologize for my sudden disappearance. My excuse: nausea. It isn't exactly the truth but neither is it a lie. Then I slowly get up and walk to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. My heart stops beating at the sight of my reflection in the mirror, because a large yellow bruise covers most of the right side of my face due to the fact that I slept lying down when I should've slept a little bit elevated to keep the blood flowing. I touch it lightly and brush my fingers along the print of Harry's, feeling the soreness of how hard he slapped.
Then the thought comes back to me. What the hell have I done?
Not that I justify the fact that Harry slapped me across the face when he promised months ago that he'd never do it again, but it's my fault. I provoked him by sleeping with him and ditching him for someone else. Just when I could maybe start counting on Harry even though the sex was mostly for closure, I ruined everything. At least when he cheated, he hadn't just slept with me. So what I did just as bad, if not worse.
It's what I told him next that made my actions worse than his. I quoted him about something that I shouldn't have because I knew how insecure about himself and how guilty he is. And I used his words against him to hurt him even more. It must've felt worse than a punch in the balls. Then again, I'm sure he would've liked to get his balls ripped out better.
This, however, does justify the slap. And now I feel like a total git.
I wipe the tears from my face, the ones that just decided to fall after the realization of how important the impacts of my actions were, and I leave the bathroom sickeningly.
The strong scent of rubbing alcohol is overwhelming but I swallow past the thickness in my mouth and carefully walk down the stairs. Harry doesn't seem like he's home, which I think is a good thing right now because I don't know how I'd face him after what happened. I'd probably cry and apologize until he hit me again, just because another couple of slaps would still not make up for what I've done.
I thought I'd hate him for hitting me. I thought that the day he'd do it again, I'd hate him so much that I'd be enough for me to get over him entirely, but it kind of snapped me back to reality. I thought it'd feel like closure, but I just feel completely empty inside.
This might be because I vomited everything I had in my body. The nausea suddenly comes back at the reminder of my harsh words, but I push past it and rummage through the fridge for something to satisfy my hunger. There hardly is anything left to eat, and I'm in no state to drive to go get food. I probably would cause even more damage if I decided to drive, so I make myself a classic peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
I must've left the ringer on my phone at the max because I hear it chirping Lorde's voice from the kitchen when it's all the way upstairs in the bedroom. My untouched sandwich stays on the counter while I hurry upstairs, and I notice something that I hadn't before.
My phone has gone to voicemail before I can reach it, and without looking at the caller I press the button to listen to the message.
Harry's bedroom door is slightly open, but the entire room is dark. I push the door and allow myself to go in since he isn't even here, and he'd probably yell at me for invading his privacy, but the feeling is too strong. Something's wrong.
Just when the message starts playing in my ear, I turn the lights on and gasp. "Hm, hi, Elena. It's me," Harry says in his usual deep, husky voice. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, and I think this was just the proof that we both need some time apart. Now I really understand how you felt on New Year's, and I couldn't feel more like shit. Just know that I love you no matter what, nothing could ever change that, and if you need anything, you have my number. I'll see you soon, bye."
The room is completely empty. The bed is made as if it'd never been touched, but there aren't any pictures, any frames, any decoration like he'd put when it became his bedroom. I find the drawers completely empty of clothes, his suitcase gone and his bathroom bare of any product. The closet is empty as well, as though no one's been in here since my staying.
What really opens my eyes to the fact that he's gone is that his journal is nowhere in sight. He brings it everywhere he goes unless it's for a very short period of time, but it isn't on his bedside table or in the drawer.
Harry's gone.
I shamelessly sob in the bedroom as I sit on the bed, almost feeling the heat still on it from the last night he slept in it. The entire house smells like antiseptic, but this one smells like him. I just keep thinking what brought us so far apart when right now, all I want to do is curl up on his side and tell him how much I love him.
What the hell was I thinking?
~~~
Monday rolls in and I go to class just like I normally would. The grounded rule must've been canceled because Harry still wasn't home to pick me up like he said he would to take me to school. Though I've changed the course I had taken on the first day, this one happens to be in the same time frame, which doesn't change my schedule at all.
I've managed to hide the bruise on my cheek with a thick coat of concealer, but I couldn't help but place my hand against the shape of Harry's this morning when I looked at it. How he could tell me he still loved me after what happened, I have no idea, but it just made the guilt worse in my heart. I haven't even replied to any of Vince's calls since, I can't seem to bring myself to do this to Harry again. He wouldn't even know whether I called Vince back or not, but for my own personal mind I can't do that.
The school seems to have calmed down about the whole dating Harry thing. I make it to class and sit in my chair for three hours without ever feeling whispered about, and when I finally decide to go on Tumblr, I'm surprised to find no pictures of me whatsoever. No new ones, but no old ones either. The tag that had been entirely dedicated to me on the side has completely disappeared, showing absolutely no posts.
When the teacher finally lets us go, I slowly rise from my chair and make my way outside. This building is at a farther distance of the subway station, but since I don't have to work today I have all the time I need to get home.
Holy shit, I whisper to myself when I remember why it is that I don't have to work today. I check my phone really quickly to find a bunch of messages from Liam saying that he's on his way to pick me up, and to stay at the main building of the school to make it easier. The meeting with One Direction's management had completely slipped my mind.
Fifteen minutes later, I'm speed walking towards what I assume is Liam's car. Thousands of different scenarios run through my head of how this meeting will go. It isn't the actual meeting that's not my knickers in a twist, like them Brits would say, but it's who will be at this meeting. Facing Harry has got the blood draining from my face to a point where I feel like I might faint right here on the pavement. And it isn't even because of our fight or the fact that he slapped me, though I did verbally punch him twice as hard, but it's because of the message on my voicemail. It's because he isn't even angry. Just know that I love you no matter what.
"I haven't been spotted!" Liam exclaims triumphantly as I hop in his vehicle. "Liam one, students zero."
I raise an eyebrow and try to catch my breath from this speed walking thing. Jesus, I'm so out of shape. "I think people are hiding today because I haven't been spotted either. Trust me, I've seen my face a lot more than yours on the tabloids lately."
Liam's eyes crinkle as he laughs hard, driving away from the university. "Christ, Elena. Did you have a fight with your makeup this morning? It looks like you poured half of your bottle on that cheek," he points at the bruise on my cheek, where I've patted at least four coats of foundation and two coats of concealer.
"I had a zit," I explain. "Couldn't be photographed with a mountain growing on my face now, could I?"
"Of course not," he mocks. "Are you nervous?"
There's absolutely no point in lying on this one. It probably shows how nervous I am, anyway. "Sort of. I guess it's just 'cause I haven't been in the same room as the others in like seven months, so it's a little stressful."
"Don't worry about that. Zayn's really excited to see you and Niall, well, he's Niall. Louis promised he'd behave for your sake because it's not like it's Harry who took you this time. You're here to study, and I think he understands that."
My heart sinks at the mention of Harry, and I can't help but ask, "Is he going to be there? Harry?"
Liam gives me an uneasy look but he probably thinks Haz and I are still fighting from New Year's. The thing is, I don't even think we're fighting anymore. I think we're at a place where both of us have made horrible mistakes and we just need space not to ruin each other anymore. Somehow deep inside I've forgiven him for sleeping with Amanda since we slept together on Saturday. I just realize this now, because hearing his name doesn't bring back the memories of his green eyes before he kissed her. It actually reminds me of the kisses he placed all over my skin and the sweet words he whispered in my ear throughout the entire duration of the coitus.
"You're getting flustered," Liam calls me out on the blush creeping onto my cheeks from the inappropriate thoughts. I press my lips together and fan myself, as though my blush was from the heat blasting in the car. "And to answer your question, yes, Harry will be there. I assume you lot haven't worked anything out?"
Oh, we definitely did, I feel like telling Liam, and then we ruined it all again. "We just need some time apart." This basically sums it up.
Liam doesn't add anything. He offers me a sympathetic look but I glance away from him and focus on the street as if I were driving.
From where we are at the moment, I assume the management building is in the middle of the city. At this hour the traffic is slow, but London is always packed with people at any time of the day no matter what. Liam enters a gated area and waves at the security guard, who lets him in without any questions asked.
Shit just got real. The building isn't like the studio I'd once accompanied Liam to. This one looks like a normal, office building with thousands of cars parked in the parking lot. One of those cars, however, stands out to me. The black Range Rover with the familiar license plate is parked right by the door where it clearly says 'reserved parking', but Liam doesn't bother looking at the sign either when he parks right next to Harry's car.
Breathe, I internally tell myself as I hop out of the car and almost twist my ankle from the fall. Liam locks the door and motions for me to follow him through the large glass doors in front of the building.
I notice now that on the other side of the gates is a large crowd of photographers ready to snap pictures of whoever comes out, most-likely One Direction. I hadn't noticed them as we entered the parking lot, but they're all I see. Their cameras are pointed straight at me and Liam but he doesn't seem concerned as he presses a button and the doors slide open.
"Mr. Payne," a woman greets him at the door, then turning to me to offer a small smile. "Fourteenth floor, room 1425. Everybody has arrived."
"Thank you, Angelica," Liam replies with a nod. He then captures my hand in his and pulls me towards the elevators. "Your face is pale, Elena. Breathe a little, it'll give you some color under that crazy amount of makeup you're wearing."
Does it even look that bad? I made sure to blend everything very well into my neck and my hairline so it wouldn't go too much, and I used a glowy powder so it wouldn't look matte and fake. I thought I'd done a very good job at covering the bruise this morning, but now I wonder if everyone at school judged my face today. Maybe even the photographers were scared off and decided to never take pictures of me again.
Then I guess I should do this makeup every single day from now on.
My heart stops when theding of the elevator informs us that we've reached the fourteenth floor. The doors open and lead to a small corridor with a couple of offices on each sides. I follow Liam since he clearly knows where he's going, not even looking at the door numbers when he opens one on the right and walks in.
My feet stop in the middle of the doorway when I see all the boys sitting around a round table, with two men in suits at the front and another one dressed casually next to them, this last man actually looking very familiar. They all spin on their chairs to look at me, now eight pairs of eyes burning into my face. Liam has already sat on a chair at the end of the table, an empty one right beside him that is probably meant for me.
"Mrs. Reed, is it?" One of the two older men asks in my direction, standing up in a polite manner.
"Elena," Harry corrects or calls my name, I'm not sure, but I'm surprised to hear his voice so soon. I didn't except him to talk to me. He gives me a small, encouraging smile and now I wonder why I ever thought we could do the closure thing.
The same man from before clears his throat and points at the empty chair between Liam and Harry. "Elena, please have a seat."
I stifle a laugh when, to ease the tension in the room that's almost chocking me, Liam props his feet on the table and relaxes in his seat. His eyes are still on me, but travel quick to the empty chair to which I slowly make my way, dropping my large purse on the floor at my side.
"Hi," Harry whispers as I lean down to carefully deposit my bag, my laptop being extremely fragile in it.
My lips are almost frozen, but I manage to squeal a small, "Hi," before the meeting goes on.
The two men in suits happen to be the two main people in charge of whatever touches publicity, tabloids, and whatever has to be said or not. They explain their jobs to be while everyone else in the room plays on their phone as if this meeting was a joke. I carefully listen, just so I don't look like I'm bored out of my mind. Which I am. Extremely.
The man who I thought looked familiar is the tour manager, Paul, who I had met at the studio last year. As soon as he says his name the memories flashed in my head. I'd also seen him a couple of times on the internet when I first started following Harry around while he was on tour; Paul seemed to be on every single picture.
"We've already taken care of all the photographs that had been taken of you last week. Have you seen any more on the internet? I assume you must go on Twitter, right?"
And it hits me that while I was in class earlier and searched for myself on Tumblr, the tag had been removed. There wasn't anything about me. "I haven't seen anything else, no."
"Brilliant. Though we can control what goes on the internet, we have absolutely no control on what happens in your everyday life," the second man adds. "Therefore it will be your job to be careful when you go out. I've been informed of a few times where things have gone out of control, but Mr. Styles over here might not be just a phone call away to save his damsel in distress every time, is that right, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry mumbles beside me, sounding defeated as his face drops considerably. I have a sudden urge to hold his hand, but I choose against it.
For some reason, I feel relieved that I don't feel all this pain and hatred anymore towards him. I could barely look at him in the eye after New Year's, and my fears have vanished after sleeping with him. Maybe it's the realization that I know he could care about me if I let him, but now I just sound like a needy brat.
"We've come up with a few suggestions for your case, which I ought to precise none of them are mandatory, but they are suggestions you should deeply take into consideration." Suddenly, everyone in the room sits up to listen. "The first one would be to move out on your own. I've been informed that this option has already been put to test and has not succeeded, but perhaps a building with higher security could be the answer?
"The second option is to fake a relationship. I understand that you two aren't together anymore, but what is normal becomes boring, and therefore being in a relationship would eventually stop drawing too much attention towards you. Eleanor and Louis, for example, have not been photographed together in months.
"Another option would be to create a publicity stunt with someone else, most-likely a celebrity. This is one of the most popular options, where Harry could start dating an important celebrity to draw the attention towards him. The attention would almost immediately be taken off of you.
"The last option could or could not work, but it would be for you to take a semester off school to let things die down. All expanses would be paid, you could even go back to the States for a while until your subject has died down, but -"
"No fucking way," Harry interrupts, voice loud and clear and echoing against each wall. "Nuh-uh, you're not dropping out."
In the four options I was given, this one is definitely the one that caught my attention the most, but I wouldn't admit that. "Relax, I'm not leaving school."
"You sure as hell aren't dropping school," he scoffs, leaning back into his seat. "If you were to stop, even for one semester, you'd end up not going back. It's what happens to everyone. I can't let you do that."
The man who'd been talking clears his throat. "Harry, this isn't your decision. Please let Mrs. Reed decide without influencing her choice. She doesn't even have to do anything if she doesn't want to, those were just suggestions," he emphasises on the word. "Now, Mrs. Reed, have you got anything you would like to add?"
I shake my head.
"You're all dismissed," the other man tells us.
So, this is what a meeting is like, I thought to myself as I pick up my purse and watch the others put their coat on. No one says anything from the time we leave the room to the time we walk out of the building. The same woman, Angelica, wishes every boy a great day and Paul walks us to the cars. I take it it's just prevention since no photographer could possibly walk past those gates, but then again when it comes to One Direction, nobody knows.
My first instinct is to walk towards Liam's car, thinking that he would drop me off home, but a large, calloused hand wraps around my wrist before I can touch the handle. "Come with me? We're all meeting at Liam's house, anyway."
With his other hand, Harry scratches the back of his neck in a nervous habit that makes me wonder if he's nervous about asking me to go with him. He shouldn't be, nervous, that is, because I don't even hesitate to turn around and walk to the Range Rover.
"How's the cheek?" Harry asks slowly once the doors are closed and we're in the privacy of the car.
I shrug, bringing my hand up to touch the thickness of the makeup. "To be honest, the dignity took a bigger blow. I'm so sorry for what I said, Harry. And what I did, I feel so stupid."
"Hey, hey," he coos. "You're not stupid, babe. We were both rather upset and I think it was good for the two of us to... to let go of all that build-up anger."
His words couldn't be truer. Since Saturday I haven't seen his green orbs as threats, I haven't even thought about New Year's much. It's almost as if everything is falling into place. "Yeah. Well, a second round of sex could've done a better job," I say despite myself to ease the tension.
Harry throws his head back and in the process, he brings his hand over the console and takes mine. "I think we know what to do next time," he winks, showing off his perfect toothy smile.
Because we both know there'll be a next time. And another one. And another one after that. That closure thing was crap; Harry and I couldn't possibly end things. "But for next time, you mind going for the other cheek? It's always been this one, I'm starting to get scared of long term damages."
"I'm really, really sorry about that, El," he breathes, apologizing for what I think is the slap. I squeeze his fingers reassuringly but then he adds, "I'll just give you a good punch on the left side and everything will look the same."
I roll my eyes and enjoy the rest of the drive in a complete silence. Not an uncomfortable one, thankfully. It's good to see that we're on the same page despite everything that has happened.
"Who wants beer?" Louis calls from the kitchen in Liam's large loft, about twenty-minutes after we've left the meeting. I haven't been here in so long but it doesn't nearly feel as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.
However, none of boys have actually addressed me personally aside from Harry and Liam. Zayn gave me a small smile when we walked in the apartment, but Niall barely acknowledged my presence and Louis was practically acting as if I wasn't there at all.
"What do you want to drink?" Harry asks me gently, his arm draped over my shoulders as we sit on the sofa.
Beer, for me, isn't something I drink in the middle of the day to relax and to rehydrate. No, beer is for when I want to forget, and right now I don't think I have anything to forget about anymore. So I shrug. "Water?"
"Lou!" Harry calls, shouting in my ear. "Bring me a beer and a water for Elena."
And what I'm not expecting is when Louis comes back in the living room with five beers and a water bottle, he smiles when he offers me the bottle. An actual, genuine smile. "There you go, love. You sure you don't want beer? It's Liam's, anyway."
"I'm fine," I slowly say, testing the waters. Louis just shrugs and sits on the floor. Then I twist my body to Harry's side and lean over to his ear. "Has he, like, forgotten how much he hates me?"
"You're not a threat to his career anymore," he replies, almost repeating Liam's words. "You're one of us, now. Unless you don't want to be?"
Harry's hand creeps out in between us, flat with his palm up, as if he's expecting something. My eyes travel from his hand to his eyes, not missing the small smile dancing across his lips as he waits for an answer. I slowly reach out and put my hand in his, not regretting the sudden decision. "Do you want to be my friend?"
"Yeah. Fuck, yes, of course," he beams, and now I see hope.
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Chapter End Notes:
I've been very nervous for this chapter, because clearly both Elena and Harry are being extremely bipolar, but I dont know for you, I just feel like it's finally time for them to move on.
How do you feel about them being finally friends again?
And how do you feel about Harry slapping Elena and Elena feeling bad about it? I think she deserved it, her comment was REALLY out of place!
DON'T BE A SILENT READER, I love to read you!
Don't forget to comment and vote!!Thanks!:D
-Katexx