Natalie's POV
Walking into the kitchen on wobbly legs, I grab a glass of water and stand at the counter sipping it, using the brief respite to calm my nerves, slow my heart, and take stock of the situation. I'm deliberately avoiding Harry, and I'm sure he's aware of it. When he even approaches the area I'm in, I move away. The one thing I can't escape however, is his penetrating gaze. His eyes have been following me, for much of the evening. However, what's unnerving is that his face doesn't carry an expression of guilt or longing, but anger. It truly bubbled to the surface when I was chatting with Niall. I can't even wrap my brain around what his problem is at the moment. HE shows up with a date, only days after declaring his desire to see me again, but then has the audacity to throw ME dirty looks all evening, simply for making friendly conversation with his bandmate, who happens to be a childhood pal of my roommate's? It's such an obvious double standard, I want to laugh at how ridiculous it is, but when I try, I seem to choke on the sound. How fitting. It occurs to me again that I really should go home. I started out the evening sexy and powerful. Now my provocative black dress and stacked heels make feel like a little girl playing dress up, wearing somebody else's clothes.
I'm shaken from my thoughts by Niall walking into the kitchen. I watch him surreptitiously as he grabs a glass, fills it with water, and comes to stand near me, drinking casually from his cup. He doesn't make eye contact, but the set of his shoulders tells me that he's thinking hard about something. Abruptly, he sets the cup down on the countertop sharply, making me jump, and turns toward me. He narrows his eyes, and crosses his arms on his chest, but doesn't make a move to speak. I continue to sip my water, glancing up at him expectantly. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"Harry's crazy about you. You realize this, right?"
All I can do is stare at him dumbly. I set my glass down shakily before I drop it. My heart leaps into my throat, wanting desperately for what he's saying to be true, but then plummets back down, knowing the current situation contradicts his words. I wrack my brain for something witty and cutting to say, but I can't find the words. "I know him well enough to know when he's in it, so to speak. Harry doesn't just talk, for hours, to anyone. Trust me – he's into you." I pause, for the briefest of moments, to consider his words. I prepare to spit out my rebuttal before I can really think about it, but Niall beats me to it. "Don't you get it Natalie? I see what you're thinkin. You're NOT her. That's just it. You're -" He looks like he's going to say more, but his eyes dart up to over my shoulder, and for a minute he looks distinctly uncomfortable, guilty even. Like a kid caught doing something he shouldn't. Briefly, he sighs. "Nevermind. Hey H. You want another beer?" Startled, I spin around to see Harry, leaning in the doorway, his eyes flitting between Niall and I. Disgruntled that I'm obviously not going to get any more out of Niall at the moment, I turn back to see him with his back to me, rooting in the fridge. He pulls out two bottles, swings the door shut with his foot, and brushes past me, handing one of the bottles to Harry on his way out of the kitchen. Harry stares at the bottle for a moment, like he doesn't know how it got there. He then walks past me to the kitchen sink, avoiding my eyes. However, the subtle tic in his jaw says a great deal.
So nonchalant that I can tell he's trying to APPEAR nonchalant, he sets the bottle on the counter and starts washing his hands. My stomach churns and tears threaten as I realize he's no longer interested in speaking to me, our former chemistry obviously a thing of the past. Sadly, the only thing I'm hoping to salvage at this point is my pride. I go to leave the kitchen but his voice brings me to an abrupt halt.
"You and Niall, huh?" he asks, his voice coming out a bit sharper than I'm sure he intended. My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. He can't be serious. I let out a little surprised huff of laughter. "Um, NO," I state plainly. "Why on earth would you think that?" This finally gets his attention and he rounds on me. While I was hoping for the look on his face to be one of amusement (maybe he was totally kidding with the whole Niall remark?), what I see is much colder and makes me reflexively take a step back.
"You sure? You two looked awfully cozy, having your little heart to heart." He says mockingly, his eyes looking at me with what could only be described as derision. Gone is the cheeky smile and twinkling eyes I've come to know and my brain is scrambling to keep up with all that's seemed to change in the past hour.
Desperate, I try a different approach. "Oh c'mon Harry. I move fast, but not that fast!" I say with a smirk, hoping it'll make him see how silly he's being and laugh. No such luck. "Obviously," he replies under his breath, turning back to the sink. Wait, what? I can feel my own anger surfacing, his words and assumptions completely uncalled for. "Seriously Harry? I don't even understand where this is coming from. Let's suspend reality for a minute and assume that yes, Niall and I are having a secret affair. We've been talking for months, in secret, just waiting to hook up. Let's pretend all that's real." I feel like I might be going to far, but I can't seem to shut my mouth up. "What would it matter to you? You're sounding like a jealous, over-protective boyfriend, yet I seem to remember you walking in with a very attractive blonde on your arm, so I know jealousy can't actually be your motive."
His next words confirm that.
"No, I just thought you found your meal ticket or something. Can't have me, so you move on to the next best thing, right?"
It's like I've been slapped. I can feel my throat closing, the tears attempting to choke me. My face feels hot, burning with humiliation. I keep trying to tell myself that he's drunk and it's the alcohol fueling the words, but I can't make myself believe it. Once again, I'm overwhelmed by the shame, like I've been made into a fool. Patrick tried to warn me, I should've listened. Pretty words, that's all they were. I'm so stupid. How in the world can someone you've only known for a week hurt you this bad? Is that even normal? I'm not sure how long I stand there, my eyes fixed straight ahead, but by the time I feel the tear escape down my cheek, it's too late. "Yeah, that must be it," I mutter thickly, my words losing most of their impact. Squaring my shoulders, I spin quickly on my heel to grab my purse off the counter, and head quietly towards the side door that will take me back to my guest house. I vaguely hear my name being called, and catch a few curious looks from the living room as I pass it, but I don't stop. I simply wave over my shoulder, saying, "It was nice to meet all of you!" as I make my hasty exit. I stumble through my front door just in time to fall apart. Part of me hopes that Harry will come desperately running after me and show up at my door, as part of some grand heroic gesture. But I know he won't. That's okay, it's better this way.
Harry's P.O.V
"No, I just thought you found your meal ticket or something. Can't have me, so you move on to the next best thing, right?"
The second the words are out of my mouth, and I see her face fall, I regret them. What the fuck is wrong with me? What possessed me to say that to her? Why do I always shoot my mouth off when I'm angry? I need a fucking muzzle. She's been nothing but genuine. In fact, she's the first person, in a long time, to not have an ulterior motive where I'm concerned. She's not using me to bolster her career. She doesn't hound me with questions about all my famous friends. In reality, she barely brings up the band at all. She honestly seems to enjoy MY company. Harry, from Holme's Chapel - not Harry Styles from One Direction. She sees past my bullshit, and doesn't treat me like I hung the moon or could walk on water.
As she turns and walks away, I finally snap out of it and call after her. But it's too late, as she's already made it out the door. I know I need to go after her, that I can't let her disappear, but I can't force my feet to move. But, instead of fighting for something good, like I should be doing, I do what I usually do - make excuses. It's better that she's walking away. I can't give her what she needs. I can't take her out for a night on the town, or a romantic walk under the stars. I know I warned her, but that's never been good enough. Like every woman before her, she'd get tired of the social media bullshit and constant scrutiny soon enough, and I'd be left right back where I started. Fuck that. I raise my beer bottle to take a long pull.
"You're a fuckin wanker!" Niall's voice booming from the doorway almost makes me drop the beer bottle. "What the hell did you do THAT for?"
I don't have time for this. "Piss off Niall, this isn't any of your business" I growl, bringing the bottle back to my lips.
"None of my business? The fuck it isn't! You're pullin a different bird every other day, and it lands all over the papers. We all have to listen to management scream at all of us about protecting our image, because you can't keep it in your pants. But the funny thing is, we all know why you do it. The tabloids have you pegged as this Casanova, this ladies' man, but that's bullshit. You do it because you're jealous. You mocked Liam and Sophia, calling him whipped, a pansy; you do the same to Louis and Danielle...."
I can feel my pulse accelerating, and my fingers have a white-knuckled grip on the countertop, the anger running hot in my veins. But Niall isn't done. He steps right up to me, and his voice has dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"You want what they have, and that kills you. Who even ARE you man? You've bought into the hype. You're as much about the image as our managers. As long as it looks good, right? Anything real takes too much work on your part -
"Are you quite finished?" I spit between clenched teeth. "Not even close," he grins at me, mockingly.
"That girl? You know, the one you just basically called a fame-whore? That woman is REAL Harry. Unlike most of the women you drag around on your arm, she doesn't have one hand on your dick while the other is reaching for a handout -
I'd had enough, and my injured pride forces me to lash out, spitting my words out like venom. "Well, why don't YOU fuck her then? I'm sure she'd be down for it, right? You too seemed friendly. That's what this is about, right? You've been jealous of me from day one. You and I both know I'm the face of this band, and you fuckin hate that --" I don't even see his fist coming until it clocks me squarely in the jaw, knocking me to my ass on the floor. I sit there stunned for a few moments. My ego tells me to get up and hit him back, but as he glares down at me, breathing harshly with his fists clenched at his sides, gearing up for round two, the wind is knocked out of my sails, and I gaze numbly at the floor in shame.
"Harry, I'm only gonna say this once, but you need to sort your shit out --" Niall starts in angrily, but I interrupt him, "You're right," I state softly, unable to look him in the eye. When I finally glance up at his face, it takes a moment or two, but his expression softens a bit and he sags against the kitchen counter. "I'm not who I was," I continue. "Who I once was would not have just said the things I said to you. I'm...sorry."
"Yeah, ok. I shouldn't...I shouldn't have hit you man. So...yeah. But you're still an arse. And you still need to sort your shit out!" Having said his piece, he reaches into the freezer and pulls out a bag of frozen peas, that he chucks at me. I catch them right before they hit me squarely in the face, and put them gingerly against my sore jaw. I risk a glance at him and he gives me a nod and a half smile before walking out of the kitchen. I know I've got work to do there, but the worst is over. Niall will forgive me.
Now to fix my other major fuck up of the evening. I'll start safe, with a text message.
Hey Natalie, I really owe you an apology. I didn't mean the things I said. Can you please call me?
I would've just called her, but I need time to get my thoughts together. But 15 minutes later, when there's no reply, I try again.
Look, I know you're probably pissed at me, and rightfully so, but can we please talk about this? I really was a jerk but want to talk face to face. This isn't a conversation to have over text xx
I venture out into the living room, in hopes of distracting myself while I wait for her to answer. I'm immediately confronted by Grace, who's eyes flash with anger. I really don't want to get hit again right now. However, the second she notices me holding a bag of frozen vegetables to my face, she begins fawning all over me. "Oh, poor baby! What happened?" she simpers. She puts her hand on my chest and bites her lower lip, in a seduction attempt that's so transparent I almost have to stifle a laugh. Niall's words suddenly become crystal clear. Grace doesn't want me, not really. She wants what I can offer her. She wants the added visibility that comes with being seen with me. One pap pic with me, and her IG followers skyrocket. We've been down this road before, I've just been too blind to see it. I recall with a start that she even admitted it to me once. After a rather disastrous dressing room pic surfaced, she laughed about how many more magazine cover offers she received. She fucking spelled it out for me, three years ago, but I was too caught up in having a hot model on my arm to notice or care.
Suddenly, I'm disgusted by her. I don't even want to be around her. Before I have a chance to contemplate my words, I say, "I think you better go. The two of us? It's not a thing. It's never going to be. I invited you here as a favor, nothing else." At first, she laughs, presumably assuming that I'm just messing her about. "C'mon baby, you're just having a rough night..." she whines, "Maybe I can make it better?" she purrs, upping her game and sidling up to me. I not so gently remove her arms from around my shoulders and reply, "No, I don't think so. Again, you need to leave. I'll call you a cab."
I'm fully prepared to be tempted by her big blue eyes and pouty lips...but staring at her, I'm surprised that I'm not. At all. The realization gradually dawns on her face that I am being completely serious. Immediately, her entire demeanor changes. Gone is the flirtatious body language and sultry stare. She appears sullen, and her eyes narrow to slits. "Aww, gonna go chase the desperate single mom Harry?" she says cuttingly, "Don't worry - when you're done with your little charity experiment, I'll be waiting."
I'm a non-violent person, and I've never even dreamed of raising my hand to a woman. But in that moment, I would've made an exception for her. I watch as she sashays toward the door, throwing a wink at me over her shoulder for good measure.
Watching the door slam behind her, I mutter, "Don't hold your breath". Sighing heavily, I grab my phone out of my back pocket. I'm dismayed when I realize I still don't have a text back from Natalie. Back in my right mind, I'm struck with the notion that I really have pushed her away for good, that she's not just playing hard to get or giving me time to stew as a form of punishment. That maybe she really has washed her hands of me. I feel sick. I need to hear her voice. I step into the hallway and quickly pull up her contact and press the "Call" button. It rings once and then I get the automated message that nobody wants to hear. Ever. "The person you are trying to reach does not accept calls from this number..." I tune out the rest as my heart sinks. She actually blocked me!
As I stand there staring at my phone in shock, Niall walks into the hallway and stops in front of me. "Harry, what are you doing?"
I can only respond with, "She blocked me. She blocked my number!" My voice comes out sounding panicked, even to my own ears. The look on my face must be comical though, because Niall has to tuck his lips between his teeth to bite back a laugh. "Ouch...well, the good news his, she lives in the guest house that's no more than 100 metres from where you're standing. You realized this...right?"
Well damn.