{Kate's Point of View}
Thick clouds were resting above London in a way that trapped the cold air. Frost was beginning to collect on the edges of my windows. I watched as tiny snowflakes fluttered down from above. I pulled the duvet up higher around me. I was glad it was Sunday and I didn't have to go to the office—or get out of bed.
The conversation I shared with Niall and Louis weighed heavily on my mind. Knowing Harry had been at least attempting to meet with me that day at Yumchaa made me feel a little better, but he still hadn't made an effort to explain his absence. And it was a relief that Harry was in L.A. for work, but I still wondered if he took the job to avoid being in London where I was. The part of our conversation that haunted me most was when I told the boys that they belonged to the fans more than any single person in their lives and they hadn't disagreed. It was a confirmation of a reality I was terrified to face.
I reached for my phone to check for messages. It was balanced on the edge of the bedside table. When my fingers brushed it, the phone tipped over the side and fell to the floor below. I let out a long sigh. I pushed the duvet off me and leaned over the edge of the bed. I felt around a few moments before finally looking down and realizing I couldn't see my phone.
"You've got to be kidding me," I huffed. I stood up from the bed and crouched on the floor. I dropped to my knees and stuck and hand under the edge of the bed. My hand bumped into a box. I pulled the box out and found my phone just a short distance away.
The box had a thin layer of grey dust on the top. It was a Manolo Blahnik shoebox. From Harry, no doubt, I thought. I lifted the lid of the box. Instead of a pair of pumps, there was a page torn from a magazine. The paper was glossy with the interior edge ripped jaggedly. It was an advertisement for the new Dior perfume. It seemed strange that I would have kept the advertisement stored away in a shoebox beneath my bed. I pulled it out and turned the paper over in my hands. It turned out that I had not kept the page for the perfume advertisement, but rather for what was on the back. It was an article about me.
Known for his multiple fleeting relationships, One Direction's Harry Styles has been labeled a ladies' man. People are used to seeing Styles paired with some of the loveliest ladies including singers and models. Typically star-studded and glamorous, it came as a shock to not just the One Direction fandom, but the entire world, when Styles stepped out with something a little more...er, drab.
One Direction is in the middle of a world tour with their most recent concerts taking place in North America. Harry Styles began turning heads when he was repeatedly showing up in London during short three-day breaks from tour when he should have been somewhere between Vancouver and San Diego. That wasn't all; Styles was seen walking the streets with the same companion on more than one occasion. It didn't take Directioners long to identify the mystery girl Styles was jetting halfway around the world to be with. She is definitely unlike any other girl Harry has been linked to...
Her name is Kate Wright and she is apparently around Harry's age. She graduated from university and moved to London where she landed a job on One Direction's management team. She met Harry through her job and the two hit it off. Prior to her 1D job, the girl had never been to their concert. Kate doesn't come from wealth, doesn't act, sing or model, and apparently doesn't color her hair—although maybe she should.
This girl is definitely different from what Styles usually pursues. Average is a fair word to use on the poor thing. It is unclear whether the two are dating or if their gallivanting is purely platonic. There even seems to be a dispute within the fandom over the issue. Regardless of the status of the relationship, everyone will have to get used to seeing boy band royalty with a boring commoner.
We'll all be at the edge of our seats to see if this romance is confirmed or denied. For now, we'll keep all eyes on Plain Jane...or was it Kate?
The article had been written over a year ago when my relationship with Harry was new and not yet public. It hurt seeing things published about me that were so negative.
I sat back on my heels and looked over the article again. Certain words seemed to be standing out against the rest. Unlike any other. I sighed. Different. I cringed. Average. I felt tears welling up in my eyes. Boring commoner. A tear fell down my face and landed on my hand. And had the article really called me a something? Suddenly, a new feeling began overshadowing the feelings of embarrassment and shame. It was familiarity. I took a deep breath. I had felt all of this before. The emotions trickled back, then the memory flooded me.
____________
The summer sun was finally starting to sink into the sky. My bedside lamp fought off the shadows that crossed my room. I lay on my stomach on my bed with my ankles crossed midair. I was poring over a magazine that had turned up unexpectedly in my mail. The front cover had a candid shot of a celebrity and boasted captions for articles about diets, makeup tips, and the latest details of a highly publicized criminal trial.
I heard the front door of my flat open and close, keys drop onto a table, and the steady footsteps of someone coming up my stairs. Harry appeared in my doorway a moment later. He wore athletic shorts low on his hips and a grey t-shirt that had sweat marks in the center of his chest and underarms. A Nike headband held his damp hair out of his face. Earbuds were fed up through the front of his shirt.
"How was the gym?" I asked.
"Terrible," he huffed. "Can't feel my arms or legs."
"Poor thing," I smirked.
Harry put his phone and earbuds on my dresser and began pulling his t-shirt off. Beads of sweat and elaborate tattoos decorated his skin. I watched as he started toward my bed.
"No! You have to shower first. These are clean sheets."
"Really, love?"
"Please," I said softly.
"Fine," Harry grumbled. He kept muttering things under his breath as he rifled through a drawer to find clean clothes and went into the bathroom. I heard the shower come on and only a few minutes later, I could hear Harry singing.
When the article about some celebrity's stint in rehab got boring, I turned the page. I had been expecting an editorial about the season's latest trends. Or perhaps a What's In My Bag piece. Or even a Chanel perfume sample. What I wasn't expecting was a full-page article about me.
There I was on the page two different times. One photo was a low quality image of Harry and me in his SUV. The photo relied on streetlights and the flashes of cameras. The second photo was of me by myself. I was leaving my flat midday. I had on skinny jeans, black converse, and a t-shirt from the 1975 concert Harry had taken me to just a few days before. That photo was captioned with pink bubble letters that said, "No Rhinestones Here! Only Canvas Shoes."
I read the entire article in horror. My blood ran cold. I felt my neck and face grow hot. I sat up against the headboard and drew my knees against my chest. I stared at the magazine as it innocently lay open at the end of my bed. Embarrassment came first. I should have known cameras would be there. Why did I wear that? Then came shame. Is this what people think of me? Finally, fear came. Is this what Harry thinks of me?
The shower turned off and I could hear Harry humming as he dressed. I blinked rapidly to stop the tears from welling in my eyes. I swallowed the sob that was inching up my throat. When I heard the bathroom door open, I pushed off the bed.
"My legs hurt so bad," Harry whined as he walked back into my bedroom.
"I'm going to wash my face. Get in bed. I'll be back in a minute." I brushed past Harry without bothering to look him in the eye.
The bathroom was humid from Harry's shower. The floor and bathmat were wet from water dripping off his body. There was a steady drip from the showerhead that echoed around the tiled room hauntingly. The steam coating the mirror was beginning to fade away.
I turned on the tap and let water flow into the basin. I cupped my hands and splashed cold water on my face. The coolness numbed the stinging in my eyes from tears. I could feel the redness begin to disappear. When I stood upright again and blotted my face with a towel, I could see myself in a way I had never before noticed. The dark circles under my eyes, the shine of my forehead, the blemishes dotting my face all seemed to be amplified in that moment.
Hot tears welled in my eyes. I planted both hands on the counter and lowered my head so I wouldn't have to see my imperfections, see the plainness, see myself. I turned the tap back on when I felt a sob creeping up my throat. The last thing I needed was Harry finding out I was crying. He had never seen that before.
"Hey, love? Could you bring me my phone charger?" Harry called from my bedroom.
I didn't answer. I couldn't answer. My mind was still swirling with the ugly words from the article that were gripping me, gutting me.
The doorknob turned and I stood up straight. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand quickly, but it was too late. Harry had seen me. He lingered in the doorway with wet hair and wide eyes. His arms hung limply at his side. His lips were parted in an expression of shock.
Before another second could pass, Harry was in front of me. I let out a strangled sob as his hands tilted my chin up. His eyes were worried. "Love, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"
"No," I whimpered.
"Tell me what's wrong."
"I didn't mean to cry." I gasped for air as I felt my control slipping away. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"Shh, calm down. I'm not going anywhere. You're safe with me."
"Okay," I whispered. I wasn't sure what I expected his reaction to be, but I didn't think he would be so patient during an emotional breakdown.
"Please tell me what's happening."
"It's nothing, Harry." I realized I was embarrassed to tell him. I was crying over something he had been experiencing every day since he was a teenager.
Harry's phone started ringing in the bedroom. I saw him tense and his eyes changed. I could tell he was thinking about answering it. "Let me go silence that," he finally said.
Getting Harry out of the room made me feel better. I was not comfortable being so emotional in front of him. Things between us were good, but I worried about becoming too needy. I didn't want to be someone he couldn't feel stable with. I was his girlfriend. I needed to be reliable. I had become an expert at minimizing my emotions around him to keep everything calm. It was all starting to catch up with me. I was beginning to understand how impossibly exhausting my strategy was.
Harry reentered the bathroom a minute later with the magazine rolled up in his fist. I kept my eyes on it as he approached me. His steps were long and powerful. "Did you buy this?" his voice was authoritative, demanding.
I shook on legs I could barely feel. My heart was beating like a distress signal. "No."
"Is this what is upsetting you?"
I nodded like a scolded child. Harry threw the magazine to the floor with visible fury. He put his hands on his hips and let out a long sigh. I remained frozen. All of the same emotions from earlier returned like an unholy trinity: embarrassment, shame, fear.
Harry took two steps to me and grabbed me by my hips. Despite his earlier complaints of sore arms and legs, he lifted me effortlessly and placed me gently on the counter. He bit his lip, eyeing me. Finally, Harry leaned forward with hands on my hips. He rested his forehead against mine and sighed softly. "Princess," he cooed. I felt hot all over.
"I guess I'm still learning," I whispered. "I'm just not used to being so openly compared to other girls. Things like this make me really insecure. I feel insecure about myself and about our relationship."
"These writers are evil. They're so manipulative and cruel. They make everything into some sick competition like we don't have real feelings. Love, you have to understand that this is not a reflection of how I feel. I don't think you're anything less than perfect. I'm so incredibly happy with you."
"You don't think I'm dull?"
"I think you're dazzling," he smiled.
"But they're right. I'm not like any girl you've been with."
"Have you considered the possibility that maybe it's a good thing?"
"Guess not," I frowned.
Harry leaned forward and kissed my cheek softly. He wiped my tears away with his thumbs. His eyes studied mine for several moments. I felt self-conscious under his gaze. Maybe he could see all my blemishes from earlier and was beginning to reconsider. I turned my chin to the floor and stared at my feet dangling above the floor.
"You're perfect," he whispered. "It's just hard because I'm in a position to be loved by the public, but you're not."
"I never will be."
"I'm proud of you," he said against my temple.
"What?"
"I mean I'm proud that you're my girlfriend. I'm not ashamed of you at all. You've probably wondered why I don't take you out more or why I'm so quiet about being with you."
"It's crossed my mind," I said honestly.
"I don't talk about you because I like the privacy we have now. I don't want to share you with the world. I want you just for me. I want to protect what we have because it feels really right. I'm terrified of ruining things. That's why I've taken things slow."
"I'm sorry I cried," I smiled half-heartedly. "You probably weren't expecting that tonight."
"No, but I don't mind that you cried. I've cried over things the media has said about me countless times."
"Really?"
"They can be awful," he nodded.
Harry leaned down and kissed me softly. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck and kissed him hard. Harry reached down and pushed my knees apart so he could stand between my legs. He rested his hands on the tops of my thighs and let his fingers rub small circles onto my skin.
"I hate that they did this to you," he whispered as his lips moved down my jawline. "I hate that they took something away."
"Please," I muttered. I didn't know whether I was asking him to stop talking or keep kissing.
Harry's lips found the spot behind my ear that made me squeeze my eyes closed and grip his damp hair harder. "You make me wish I was normal," he breathed.
I pushed Harry back slightly by his shoulders. The side of my neck was still wet from his mouth. His lips were beginning to look puffy. Harry's eyes were suddenly worried. "What do you mean?" I asked.
"I feel like you deserve better sometimes. It's not fair that you have to be paraded around in front of the media and talked about poorly by people claiming to love and support me. That's not what being in a healthy relationship is all about. I want you so badly. I feel like we're supposed to be together. It just seems wrong that our relationship has to be on my terms because of my career. So sometimes, I think about what it would be like if I were normal. I could treat you right. You would never have to cry about things people say."
"Harry," I shook my head, "I'm scared."
"What are you scared of, sweetheart?"
"What am I supposed to do when you're away and I miss you? What about public appearances? Liam's girlfriend is at nearly every red carpet. What am I supposed to do when people ask about you?"
"We can figure it out."
"Harry," I pleaded.
"Tonight," he smiled slightly. "We can figure it all out tonight. Come on. Let's go get in bed and we can talk."
Harry helped me off the counter and led me back into the bedroom by the hand. He pulled back the duvet on my side of the bed and let me get in. When Harry started over toward his side of the bed, I sat up.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing, I'm just going to get a glass of water," I explained.
"Let me get it for you," he offered.
"Thanks," I smiled.
"Do you want ice?"
"Yes, please."
A few minutes later, Harry came back into my room. He placed the glass of water on my bedside table and kissed the top of my head. "There you go, love."
"Thanks, Harry."
"Angel, I was thinking about something while I was getting your water. You said you didn't buy that magazine."
"Right."
"Then where did it come from?"
"It was in my mail this afternoon. I don't know how it got there. There was no address printed on the magazine."
"Is your doorman still working at this hour?"
"Nathaniel?"
"Yes," Harry nodded eagerly.
"I think so."
"I'm going to speak to him about that."
"Why?"
"I want to know who is toying with you." I didn't have time to protest. Harry walked out of my bedroom and down the small set of steps. I heard the front door open and close.
I sank down into the pillows and pulled the duvet up high. I thought about how much my life had changed in such a short period of time. It wasn't just my surroundings; moving to London, getting a new job, finding new friends, and dating Harry were major changes I was dealing with. But there were small, subtler things I was adjusting to every day. Like reading gossip magazines. That had been a guilty pleasure of mine stemming from my teenage years. Now, the articles were no longer distant. They were so close that I had become the content of the text. It was those changes, the tiny deviations from my sense of normalcy, that were causing me to think twice about everything.
I was so lost in thought I didn't hear the door open or Harry's footsteps on the stairs. I turned over with a start when I heard him breathing. In the glow of the bedside lamp, I could see he was angry. The corners of his mouth were turned down and his eyebrows were tilted downward in thought.
"Did I wake you?" he asked quietly, sharply.
"No," I shook my head.
Harry ran his hands through his hair that had become dry. He teetered on his feet as if he changed his mind just as he was about to take a step forward. Finally, he let out a long sigh. "I spoke to Nathaniel."
"What did he say?" I pushed myself to a sitting position.
"When the mail was being delivered early this afternoon, someone he didn't recognize slipped into the mailroom. We think that person put the magazine in your box while it was open."
I wasn't sure how to respond. This was yet another adjustment to take into consideration: nothing was safe. I rubbed my eyes with my fists. I blinked away the red, orange, and black smudges from my vision after touching my eyes. Harry's face had softened significantly. "Great," I said weakly.
Harry sat on the edge of the bed by my legs. He rested his hand on my knee over the duvet. "Love, it's hard for me to know that I'm responsible for all of this."
"Responsible?"
"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have to worry about any of this stuff."
I frowned. "I don't blame you for anything, Harry."
Instead of standing and walking around the bed, Harry crawled up over my legs and collapsed on his side of the bed. I reached up and turned the bedside lamp off. I wanted the darkness now.
"Do want to talk about things now, or do you want to wait for tomorrow morning?"
"Now."
"Come here," he whispered.
I scooted over to Harry slowly. I felt his chest and guided myself into it. I rested my head on his shoulder and draped one leg across his thighs. He rubbed his hand up and down my arms slowly. This type of intimacy was still so new to us. It was when he was cuddling me in my own bed that being with Harry felt the most surreal.
"I want you to come on tour with me whenever you can get away from work. I want you with me. At red carpets, I want you there. When interviewers ask me about you, I won't lie. I won't hide you. If they ask you about me, you say what you're comfortable saying."
I pressed my face into his soft t-shirt. I could smell hints of his cologne and body wash. I closed my eyes to make the darkness darker. I paid attention to his fingertips dragging up and down my arm. I rested my cold foot against his warm calf and he didn't even flinch. The confusion, the unknown, the chaos, the constant limbo, it was all worth it in that moment.
"I feel safe with you," I mumbled into his chest. It was in no way a response to anything Harry had said, but it felt necessary to say.
Harry kissed the top of my head. He pulled the duvet up over us and smoothed it around me. "That's really good to hear, Kate. That's what I want."
I let a long silence stretch between us. I listened to Harry's heart beating in his chest. Words in the form of questions and ideas swirled around in my head until being quiet another second felt impossible. "Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"So you want to go public? With me?"
"I mean, I'm not going to issue a formal statement," he chuckled. "But I don't feel the need to be so careful any longer. We're going to take things slowly. I will always be protective of what we have, Kate." Harry shifted and pulled me a little closer to him. His hand slipped up the back of my shirt and he traced senseless patters along my bare skin. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
____________
My legs burned from sitting on my knees long enough for the memory to play out entirely. I winced as I eased my legs out from under me and sat with them outstretched on the floor with my back to my bed. I looked at the article still clenched in my hands. In some ways, it was fair to say that this article had been slightly responsible for Harry's and my relationship. It had helped us by propelling our relationship from a secret to something public.
I thought about the words Harry had said to me the night I found the article the first time. He had been helpful, supportive, and made promises. I put the article back in the shoebox and pushed it back under my bed. When it was out of sight, I let out a sigh.
Harry wasn't here now. He wasn't here to protect me. That thought alone made the knife stab into my heart a little deeper and begin twisting.