The drive to the cemetary is short. As crazy as it sounds, I never know what to say to my mother. It's different from talking to an actual person. It's almost like I feel I have to say the right thing to her. I swallow as I walk through the familiar gates of the cemetary.
It's always so serene here. Silence coats the green hills of the cemetary like a thick blanket. I shiver at the cold wind, pulling my jacket tighter around me.
I finally arrive at my mother's grave. I read the epitaph, as I always do. I analyze every letter of her name, her birthday, and her death date. I lay the flowers gently on the stone. I step back, pulling my mittens out of my pockets and slipping them onto my hands.
"Evening, Mum," I say. "It's chilly out, yeah?"
I chuckle a bit. "I'm sorry I haven't visited," I say. "I've been at uni. It's been great. Busy, but great. I'm with someone new now...not Harry. Harry hurt me, Mum." I sigh. "Why did he have to hurt me?"
The wind whistles in the distance. I rub my hands together.
"I know I shouldn't care," I whisper. "I shouldn't give a single damn about him anymore, but I always wonder if he's okay. I don't know why."
I bite my lip. "I love you, Mum," I say. "I miss you. And...I guess I'm doing okay." I tug off one of my mittens, shivering immediately at the harsh cold air on my exposed skin. I bring my fingers to my lips, then press them to her gravestone. "I love you," I repeat.
I quickly slip on my mitten and smile one last time at her grave. I turn and walk through the rows of graves, back to the main path.
When I walk out of the gate and into the lot, my heart drops to my feet.
Harry shuts the door to his car, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand. He wears a navy blue beanie over his curls and a black jacket with his usual black jeans. His eyes widen when he sees me.
"What are you doing here?" I ask him carefully.
He looks down at the roses in his hand. "I felt like I needed to talk to her," he says. "I don't know why."
"Oh." I bite my lip.
"So...you're home?"
"Yeah. For the weekend."
"Hmm."
I stick my hands into my pockets. "How...how have you been?"
"Fine," he says. "You?"
"Good." I pause. "Busy."
Harry clears his throat. "I want to apologize," he says. "About my behavior towards Niall that night."
"Oh." I nod. "Thank you."
"You seem happy with him." I can't decipher the look on his face.
"I am."
Harry stares at me a moment. He finally nods and shoots me a small smile. "It was nice seeing you."
"You too." I watch as he locks his car and walks off toward the gates of the cemetary.
I turn and begin walking back to my car. I don't exactly know what to feel.
"Oh, Blair?"
I look back at him.
"I finished Matched." He smiles a bit. "All three."
I can't stop the genuine smile from crossing my face. "What...what did you think?"
"You were right. They're great books." He smiles wider, his dimples showing. I haven't seen his dimples in ages.
"I told you." The smile still lingers on my lips.
"Yeah...you did." He looks at me a moment longer before turning around again and continuing down the cemetary path.
...
"Jesus Christ, look at all the dust up here. It's like a dust bunny metropolis." Jay switches on the light.
I cough and wave my hand in front of me, dust flying everywhere as I follow Jay up to the attic. She asked me to help her clear out some of it to donate. Being borderline OCD, I couldn't say no.
My eyes travel over the boxes haphazardly stacked around the room. An old sofa even sits off to the side.
"Well, let's get to work!" Jay says, clapping her hands together. "You take that side of the room, and I'll take this one." She points to the left wing of the room for me and I nod, making my way over to it.
I grab a duster and begin cleaning things off, dust flying everywhere. "How long has it been since anyone's been up here?" I ask.
"Years," Jay replies. "This is where we shove all the shit we don't need." She puts her hand over her mouth. "Oops, pardon my French." She chuckles.
"No need," I say as I continue dusting. "This is true shit." We both laugh lightly and continue our work.
I soon finish dusting and grab the nearest box. I take the lid off and cough at the cloud of dust that shoots up at me. I peer down to see floral linens neatly folded.
"Jay," I say.
"Mmm?"
"I have a box of linens here...keep or donate?"
"What pattern?"
"Musty floral."
"Donate." We laugh.
We unpack box after box, almost choking on all the dust. About two hours in, Jay goes downstairs to get snacks for us. As much as I love organizing, this ordeal has been tiring.
I sit down on the musty couch, my eyes sweeping over the partially organized room. I suddenly catch sight of a small black box shoved into a corner. My interest is sparked , and I walk over to it, picking it up in my arms. I seat myself back on the sofa.
I brush my fingers over the top, wiping away some dust. I gasp.
On the top of the box written in clean, silver ink is the name "Madeleine."
I shakily open the lid.
On top is a neat, white blouse that I remember my mother wearing on birthdays and special occasions. It was her favorite.
Beneath the blouse is a silver compact with the initials "M.P." I remember my father got it for her on their anniversary one year. I also find my mother's engagement ring, the diamond gleaming in the dim attic light.
At the very bottom, nestled into a corner, I find a small photograph.
It looks like an ultrasound, the background black except for the light shape of a growing fetus. I smile. This must be my ultrasound photo.
I flip the picture over, scanning the blank side for the date. I finally find it, written in tiny letters in the bottom corner.
July 13, 2004.
My blood goes cold.
That was the day before she died.
This isn't my ultrasound picture.
I begin to shake, the photo almost slipping from my fingers. I put the lid back on the box just as Jay walks into the room.
"Alright, I've got tea and cookies," she says, setting down the tray she's holding. She looks up at me, her expression shifting. "Is everything alright?" She asks.
I nod quickly. "I'm just feeling a bit ill," I say.
Jay nods. "You've helped a great deal already, why don't you go take a break. I'll be fine here on out."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
I stand from the couch, almost not trusting my legs to hold me up. Jay eyes the box in my hand.
"Ah," she says quietly.
"You...knew about this?" I ask her.
She nods sadly. "Connor told me about it when we got married."
"Do...do you mind if I take it?"
"No, not at all. It's all yours."
I give her a weak smile before descending the stairs from the attic and going to my room.
I sit on my bed and take the ultrasound picture out again. This certainly isn't my ultrasound, I was seven at this time. If this is dated the day before she died, does this mean she was pregnant when she died?
The thought makes me want to vomit. I put my head in my hands. I need to know more about this. I need to confront my father.
I take the photograph in my hand and step out into the hall, looking for him.
I quietly go down the stairs, checking in his office and the living room. I finally enter the kitchen to see him on the phone, his free hand in his pocket.
I clear my throat, shielding the hand holding the photo behind my legs. He turns and smiles slightly at me.
"I'll call you later," he says into the phone before hanging up.
"Who was that?" I ask.
"My partner," he says. "There was a robbery on the southeast side."
"Oh." I nod.
"What did you need?" He asks me.
I look down. "I was helping Jay clean out the attic," I begin, my mind running at a mile a minute. "And I found something that I want answers about."
My father looks at me curiously. "What would that be?"
I bring the picture from behind me, shakily holding it out to him. He takes it, his face serious. I watch as his expression shifts and he slowly turns the photo over to look at the date.
"That's not mine," I say, fighting to keep my voice strong. "You and I both know it's not me in the ultrasound."
He takes a long, deep breath and sets the photo down on the table. "It's not mine, either." He pauses. "It's not my child."
I widen my eyes. "What--what are you talking about?"
...
Flashback - Connor's POV
I hear the front door open and shut, Madeleine's feet shuffling across the floor as she returns home.
"Hi," I call out to her, leaning back into the sofa as I watch television.
"Hi," she replies. Her voice is quiet, almost inaudible. "Where...where is Blair?"
"At Harry's," I reply. "Anne picked her up an hour ago."
"Oh." She sits cautiously on the sofa next to me. Her posture is stiff, and she doesn't look at me.
"Are you alright?" I ask her.
She doesn't respond. Her eyes remain glued to the television, her dark waves shielding her face.
"Maddie?"
She snaps over to me. "What?"
"I asked if you were alright."
"Oh." She looks down. "Yeah. I'm fine."
I shift, turning toward her. "No, you're not. Tell me what's wrong."
She parts her lips, her eyes searching mine. "I...I was at the doctor's today."
"Really." She nods. "What for?"
Madeleine avoids my gaze. "For...for an ultrasound." She holds her hand out and slides an ultrasound photo toward me. I take it, narrowing my eyes as I look over it.
"But...we haven't..." I look at her confusedly.
She shuts her eyes. "I know."
The realization hits me like a bus, anger engulfing me. I shoot up from the couch. "Who is he?" I ask coldly, dropping the photo onto the coffee table. "Who's child is this?"
Madeleine stands, her frame suddenly seeming fragile. "I--he's a friend from work," she says. "I didn't mean to--"
"How could you do this?" I shout. "Are you going to have this baby, Madeleine?"
She looks at the ground.
"Are you?"
"Yes!" She yells. "Yes, I'm having the baby!"
"Fuck!" I curse, running hands through my hair. "This is Blair, all over again."
"What?" Madeline slaps me. I cup my cheek in pain. "Don't even bring Blair into this!"
"I'm not! You're the one who got yourself knock up!"
"It was a mistake--"
"Why is it, that you make so many mistakes, Madeleine? Us? Blair?"
"Don't you ever call Blair a mistake! You love her, I know you do! You're glad I didn't take you're advice and abort her!"
"That's not what I meant--"
"Oh please Connor! Stop being an ass!"
"Look, I love Blair, alright?"
"Then you have to understand that I cannot kill this child," she cries.
"No, Maddie, I will never understand."
"I'm sorry," she says, tears streaming down her face.
"Sorry? You're sorry?" I turn toward her, venom in my voice. "Sorry doesn't fix that you're pregnant with someone else's child!"
"This is why it happened," she yells. "Because you don't give two shits about me, Connor. You're supposed to be my best friend, not to mention my husband!"
"Exactly! I'm your husband!"
"Then why have you been cheating on me for five years?" She screams.
I clench my jaw. "You're no better." I take a step toward her. "At least I don't get other women pregnant. Your mistake is far worse."
"It isn't a competition!"
"You aren't having that baby."
"Yes, I am!"
"No, you're not."
"It's my body, and my baby, so I will do what I want!"
"Then why don't you just kill yourself? Two birds with one stone, right?" I yell.
Madeleine gasps. Her breathing is uneven as she shakes her head at me. She turns and walks out of the living room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.
...
Blair's POV
I wipe the tears from my cheeks, struggling to believe what my father is telling me.
"She--she--" I can't form words.
"I know you've always had this idea that your mother was this perfect creature," he says. "And I wanted to keep it that way...that's why I didn't tell you."
I grab onto the counter for support. "How could you say that to her?" I manage to choke out. "How could you tell her to kill herself?"
"I was blinded by anger," my father says. "I was so mad that she was with someone else."
I put my head in my hands. "I could've had a sibling, Dad." I wipe tears from my face. "If you had taken it gracefully--"
"If you're so perfect, Blair, what would you have done?" He snaps.
I'm taken aback by his words. "I don't know," I breathe. "But I sure as hell wouldn't have told her to commit suicide!"
He narrows his eyes at me. "Do you know what it's like to be cheated on?" He shouts.
"Yes!" I scream. "Do you not remember the fucking gash I had? Yes, I know what it's like to be cheated on!"
My father looks down, knowing he's hit a nerve. I lock and unlock my jaw. He looks at me, his features intense.
"You were her fucking husband!" I shout. "You should've supported it at least a tiny bit! You cheated on her for five goddamn years and she didn't do shit, so when she makes a mistake you tell her to kill herself?"
"The past is the past, Blair, there's no point in making me feel worse about it!" He yells.
"I can't believe this," I say, shaking my head. "I can't believe it." I grab the ultrasound off the table and burst out of the kitchen, running up to my room and slamming the door.
Lottie looks at me with wide eyes.
"Lottie, if you don't mind, I need a moment alone," I say shakily.
Lottie nods quickly and exits the room, looking back at me worriedly before shutting the door behind her.
I sit on my bed and tie my hair up, wiping tears from my face. I try to steady my breathing as I pick up my phone.
"Hello?" Harry's voice is confused.
"Harry," I breathe.
"Blair?"
"I need you," I say. "I need to talk to you."
"Blair, what--"
"I just need to speak to my best friend, alright?" I say, putting my palm on my forehead. Tears escape my eyes.
I hear Harry inhale. "Alright."
I bite my lip and tell him everything from the ultrasound picture to my confrontation with my father. I tell him what my father said to my mother and I cry through the entire thing.
Harry is silent when I finish as I collect myself, trying to steady my breathing.
"I'm coming over there," he finally says.
"No," I say quickly. "Don't come."
"Blair, you need someone--"
"Don't come, Harry, my father will murder you."
"Then let him."
The line goes dead.
I put my head in my hands. I finally pull myself off my bed and pad down the steps, looking outside cautiously for Harry's car. The street is dark and it looks like it may snow.
The sleek, black car finally pulls up to the curb and I throw open the front door, running down the path, forgetting to put shoes on.
"You need to go," I say as soon as Harry steps out of the car. "You can't be here."
"You said you needed your best friend," he says. "I'm here."
I shiver as the night icy winds swirls around us. I look down at my bare feet.
"If you can look me in the eye and tell me that you really want me to go, I will," Harry says. "But I think you need someone, and I'm the only one that understands."
I bite my lip at how right he is. Before I know what I'm doing, I wrap my arms around his neck in a tight embrace, letting out all my tears onto his shoulder. He reacts immediately, wrapping his safe, warm arms arms around me.
I cry and cry; for my mother, for my father, and for the baby she could've had.
"It's just that when these things happen, I feel so alone," I say, my voice fighting to keep steady. "And I can't tell people, because no one understands. They don't know everything; they don't know the facts. They don't know anything." Harry holds me tighter as more sobs erupt from me.
"Shh," Harry says into my hair. "It's alright."
"She took two lives," I cry. "She took her own and the baby's."
Harry exhales and rubs circles on my back. "There's nothing anyone could have done," he says softly.
I nod and shut my eyes, breathing in Harry's intoxicating scent. I feel safe and warm in his arms as the freezing November wind nips at my toes.
"Blair?"
Harry and I jump apart at the sound of my father's voice. His mouth is set in an angry frown and his eyes are on fire.
"What the hell is going on?" He asks.
"Nothing," I say.
"Who let you on my property?" My father snaps at Harry.
"Blair...Blair did," Harry answers uneasily.
"Well, Blair doesn't have that right." My father crosses his arms over his chest. "Please leave."
"Dad, no," I say. I turn to Harry. "Don't move," I say to him.
Harry's eyes shift from my father to me, not sure who to listen to.
"I may not be on duty, Styles, but I can sure as hell take you down to the station for trespassing. Now get your ass off my property before I have to escort you off."
Harry swallows. "Alright," he says, turning to walk back to his car.
"No!" I yell. "Harry, no!"
He doesn't look back at me as he climbs into his car and speeds off.
Angry tears stream down my face. "Why did you do that?" I shout at my father.
"Stop yelling, Blair, you'll wake the neighbors."
I follow him inside furiously. "Why did you drive him away?" I yell again once we're in the foyer.
"He's good for nothing, Blair. I don't want him on my property."
"I went to him for support after everything I discovered today, but you took him away, just like you took away the sibling I could've had!"
"It isn't my fault!"
"You told her to kill herself!"
"Harry cheated on you and gave you that scar, Blair," my father snaps, ignoring my previous comment. "Are you really going back to him? You're with someone better now!"
"I'm not going back to him! I just called him because he's the only one that fucking understands around here. God knows you don't!"
"There are plenty of other people you could've talked to!"
"Oh, really. Like who? Jay? You?" My father's gaze hardens. "That's what I thought," I snap.
"As long as you stay here, you won't be talking to Harry," my father says.
"Good," I say, wiping tears from my face. "Because I'm leaving first thing tomorrow!" I turn on my heel and run up the stairs, walking into my room and slamming the door behind me.
I get into bed and turn the lights out, my eyes cried dry. I shut my eyes and remember the feeling of Harry's arms around me, telling me it's alright. I fall asleep shortly, my dreams filled with green eyes and safe arms.
...
I haul my bags into my car, setting my mother's black box into the passenger seat. The girls all hug me goodbye, Lottie telling me to say hello to Niall for her. Louis tells me he'll see me soon. Jay embraces me, too, her arms wrapping tightly around me. I don't look at my father.
"Blair," he says.
"What?" I snap.
"Drive safely."
I stare at him for a moment before getting into my car and pulling away from the curb.
I can't stop thinking about Harry.
He left so easily last night, so obediently. The Harry I remember would have stood up to my father, but he didn't. He just left.
Before I know where I'm going, I take a turn and soon find myself standing outside of Ed's Tattoos.
The bell jingles on the door as I enter, the faint smell of cigarette smoke tickling my senses. Harry looks up at me confusedly and shuts the book he was leaning over. He sets down his pencil and I recognize the book as the one he draws in.
"Blair?" He asks in disbelief.
"Hi," I say, sticking my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.
"What are you doing here?" He asks. He knows me too well; he knows I'm not here for a tattoo.
"Is Niall here?" I ask. I know this isn't the reason I came but I need an acceptable excuse.
"No, it's his day off."
"Oh."
Harry slides his drawing book to the side, his gaze set intently on me. It's almost as if he's memorizing every angle of my appearance so that he won't forget.
"I want to thank you," I say softly. "For being there for me last night."
He nods. "No problem."
I chew on my lip. "I know I owe you closure," I say. "Since we didn't really have any."
Harry stares at me.
"So...thank you. For being there for me all these years."
Harry doesn't say anything for a few moments. "Is this your way of finalizing your decision to have me out of your life?" He asks finally, his voice even and strong.
Is it? I avoid his gaze. When he puts it in those terms, it sure sounds like it. I search for words to say to him, but he beats me to it.
"Alright," he says, rising to his full height. I forgot how tall he is. "Let me say this, then." He looks straight into my eyes, his gaze burning. "I'm sorry about what I did. I'm sorry I'm not good enough for you, and I'm sorry for believing that I was. I hope you and Niall are very happy together, and I hope he gives you everything you need."
I stare at Harry in shock and awe. I don't know what to say.
He suddenly reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. I see a flash of pink and he hands me my mother's ribbon. I take the silky fabric in my fingers, my breath hitching in my throat.
"You left it at my place," he says. "I'm sorry that I didn't get it back to you sooner."
I stare at the ribbon in my hand, and suddenly I don't want it anymore. If he had it in his pocket and didn't expect to see me today, that must mean he carried it with him at all times. I feel a lump rise in my throat.
I thrust it back to him. "Keep it," I say.
He stares at me in disbelief. "What?"
"Keep it," I repeat. "It's yours."
His jaw drops. "But--it's your favorite ribbon--"
"I want you to have it," I say, reaching out and closing his fist around the pink material.
Harry looks down at our touching hands and then back up at me. I quickly pull away, returning my hands to my pockets.
"I should go," I say. "Bye, Harry."
Harry doesn't say anything as I walk out the doors, the bell ringing as they shut behind me. I feel his eyes on me all the way back to my car until I pull out of the lot, away from it all.
...
"Hey, you're back." Niall smiles and pulls me in for a hug, our lips brushing momentarily. I breathe in his familiar musky scent and smile. It's nice to be back in his arms after the events of this weekend.
"I missed you," he says.
"I missed you, too," I say. I feel a pang in my chest as I look into his eyes. Harry's words run through my mind. I hope you and Niall are very happy together, and I hope he gives you everything you need.
"It's still early, do you want to grab some breakfast?" Niall asks.
I nod. "Sure."
He grins and takes my hand, turning and locking his dorm behind him. We walk out to his car in relative silence.
"So, how was the weekend? Or night, I should say?" He asks as we drive along.
"It was good..." I look away. I can't tell him about my discovery about my mother. He wouldn't understand. Maybe I'll tell him one day.
"I thought you were staying the entire weekend?"
"I was," I say. "Something came up, though."
He nods and I'm grateful that he doesn't push any further. The rest of the drive is comfortable silence.
Niall finally pulls into a parking space and smiles at me. "Here we are," he says.
I get out of the car and freeze.
"Waffle House?" I ask.
Niall nods. "Yep," he says. "Is there a problem?"
I shake my head slowly. "No...none at all."
"Cool." We walk into the restaurant. I fight back giggles. If only Harry could see this, he'd be on the floor laughing.
Harry.
I can't think about him. I'm not with him.
I'm with Niall.
We sit in a booth by the window and open our menus. I eye the maple syrup carefully, remembering the last time I was here.
I was here with Harry.
Stop, my mind screams.
"Their waffles are good here," Niall remarks.
I smirk. "Mhmm."
Niall looks up at me from his menu. "What's funny?"
I shake my head. "Oh, nothing. Just a memory."
Niall looks at me a moment longer before looking back down at his menu.
The waitress comes back to our table, chomping a piece of gum in her mouth.
"What'll it be?" She asks.
"Blair?" Niall asks.
"Oh, um...I'll have some waffles," I say.
"No shit," the waitress snorts, scribbling on her pad. Niall stifles a laugh. "What kind of waffles?"
I stare at her. "What do you mean?"
"There are multiple kinds of waffles we have here at the Waffle House," she says.
"Okay," I say. "Then I'll have...regular."
Niall and the waitress stare at me.
"Alright," the waitress says. "And you, pretty boy?" She asks Niall.
"Same as her," Niall says, handing her his menu.
"Great," she says in a monotone, collecting our menus. She pops a bubble with her gum and walks away.
"Pretty boy?" I raise an eyebrow at Niall.
"I am pretty, I know," Niall says.
"Very pretty," I agree, giggling.
"So how's that poetry assignment coming?"
I shrug. "I actually haven't started."
"What's it on again?"
"Painful love."
"Hmm." Niall leans back in his seat. "That's tough."
"I already know what I'm going to write about, I just need to put it into words."
"I see."
"Yep."
"Mind if I ask what you're going to write about?"
"I...If I could put it into words, I'd tell you." I smile at Niall teasingly.
Niall laughs. "Well played."
The waitress soon brings our food and Niall immediately digs in, drenching his waffles in syrup. I hesitantly cut up my waffles, wary of the syrup.
"Don't you want syrup?" Niall asks me through a mouthful of waffle.
I smile, my mind screaming no. "Of course," I say. I'm pretty sure my eye twitched.
I pour a single drop of syrup onto my waffle. I lean forward, inspecting it for any form of insect.
Niall watches me for a moment before shrugging and digging back into his waffles.
I take a tiny bite of waffle, chewing and swallowing. I take a few more bites before leaning back, unable to get myself to eat any more.
"Are you alright?" Niall asks.
"Yeah, I just...had breakfast at my family's house."
"Oh." Niall finishes eating and throws his napkin onto the plate. "You look kind of pale, are you sure you're okay?"
I nod. "It's just that it's winter, and my skin gets pale..."
Niall nods. "I see."
We pay the check and leave the Waffle House. I breathe a sigh of relief.
Niall drives me back to my dorm and kisses me on the cheek. "I'll see you later?" He asks.
"Yeah," I say. He kisses my lips sweetly before driving off. I walk into the building, sighing as the warmth of my dorm engulfs me.
Eleanor shoots up from her bed when I walk in, almost knocking me over in a bear hug.
"I missed you!" She squeals.
"I was only gone for a day," I laugh.
"Still," she says. She backs away from me a bit, a frown setting on her face. "Why were you only gone for a day?"
I search Eleanor's features. I sit down on her bed and sigh. Before I know it, I tell her everything from my fight with my dad to my encounters with Harry. Her eyes widen.
"Shit," she says when I finish telling her. "Harry said that?"
I nod.
"He still loves you," she states.
I snort. "Right. If he did, he wouldn't have cheated."
"Blair, do you know why he had your ribbon with him at a completely random time?" Eleanor stands from the bed and puts her hands on her hips. "Because that's the last piece of you he had."
I chew on my lip. I never thought of that before.
"It doesn't matter," I say. "I'm with Niall."
"Are you really?"
I stare at her. "Yes...yes, I'm positive. Why wouldn't I be sure?"
"Did you love Harry?" She asks me.
I part my lips. "Y-yes," I say. "I did."
"Do you love Niall?"
I look down. "I don't know yet."
Eleanor exhales. She sits beside me on the bed again, putting her hand on my shoulder. "Niall's my friend, and so are you. Don't get me wrong, I love that you two are together. But you shouldn't waste his time."
I put my head in my hands. "I can't love Harry again," I say. "He cheated--"
"Do you know what I would do if Louis cheated?" Eleanor asks.
"Dump him."
"If I was in your situation, no, I wouldn't. Because I'd see that Louis loves me and it was a mistake that he slept with someone else. I'd see how fucking heartbroken he is and how much he needs me."
"Harry doesn't need me. Harry doesn't need anyone."
"Anyone but you!"
"You don't even know him!"
"I don't have to know him, Blair." Eleanor shakes her head. "From everything you've told me, I don't have to know him."
I swallow and look at my lap. "I'm with Niall," I repeat, more sternly. "I like Niall. Hell, I could love him."
"Could love him." Eleanor cocks her head.
"Enough," I snap. "Harry is out of my life, and I'm keeping it that way."
Eleanor looks at me sadly. "What if your roles were reversed?" She asks. "What if you were in his place?"
I open my mouth to answer, but then I close it. Eleanor stands and grabs her things.
"I'm meeting Louis for lunch in the city," she tells me. "I'll see you later." She hugs me before sliding on her jacket and walking out the door.
What if Harry and I's roles were reversed? What if I cheated on him when I was drunk? What if I cut him on accident? What if I was the one staying up at night, wishing I could go back in time?
I stand up from the bed and find my Literature notebook. Without hesitation, I scribble down word after word until I have a poem in front of me.
...
"That's it for today, I'll hand you back your poems on your way out." Professor Locke takes a stack of paper from his desk into his arms. Jade and I walk up, standing in the line forming in front of the professor.
"I hope I got a decent grade," Jade says. "I need it."
"Me too," I say. "I don't think mine's very good, though. I'm rubbish at poetry."
Jade shrugs. "I'm alright, I guess," she says. "I don't mind writing it, but it's not my favorite thing to write."
"Same with me," I say.
Jade and I are at the back of the line, so we wait a fair amount of time before we reach Professor Locke.
"Miss Thirlwall, here you are," he says to Jade, handing her the paper. "Well done."
Jade grins.
"And Miss Price," Professor Locke says. He stares at my poem for a moment longer before handing it to me. "Miss Price, you did a phenomenal job on this assignment," he says. "I was very impressed."
I nod. "Th-thank you," I say.
"The amount of emotion you were able to portray about the pain and love of the relationship was truly incredible. Fantastic job. Keep up the good work."
I grin at him again before Jade and I exit the building.
"Oh, my God," Jade says as we walk outside. "I can't believe what he said to you about your poem!" If it's possible, it seems to have gotten even colder outside. It's now mid December, with Christmas right around the corner. I've decided I will go back home for the holidays, even if it means facing my father. At least I'll be with Louis and the girls.
"Neither can I," I squeal. "I didn't think it was that good."
"Well, apparently you were wrong." Jade nudges me and I giggle.
Jade drops me back at my dorm before ascending the stairs to hers. "See you later, Blair," she says.
"Bye, Jade."
I set my things down and almost scream when I see Niall sitting on my bed.
"How the fuck did you get in here?" I ask, placing a hand over my chest.
"Eleanor let me in before she left for class," he replies.
"You scared the shit out of me," I gasp.
Niall shrugs. "I am pretty scary." He bares his teeth at me and I giggle.
"How was your day?" I ask him as I set my poem down on my desk.
"Pretty good," he says. "Thank God Christmas break starts on Friday. I can't wait to go home."
"Are you going home to Mullingar?" I ask him.
He nods. "Yep. What about you?"
"I'm just driving home," I say. "Nothing special."
"I wish we could spend the holidays together," Niall says, standing and wrapping his arms around my waist.
"Me, too," I say.
He kisses me softly. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. I yearn for fireworks to coarse through me like they used to, but nothing happens.
Niall finally pulls away, smiling down at me.
"I forgot to tell you," I say. "I got a perfect score on my poem."
He grins. "Congratulations!"
"Yeah, my professor said it was really good." I shrug. "I didn't think it was that great."
"I'm sure it is," he says.
I grimace. "Shit," I say.
"What?"
"I left my book in my car. Mind if I go get it?"
"No, not at all. I'll be here."
I turn and slip my jacket back on before walking out of the building and to my car, unlocking it and reaching inside. I retrieve my book from the backseat, my heart dropping when I see that it's Matched. Why I have that in my car, I don't know. I throw it back into the car and slam the door, struggling to keep memories from surfacing. I walk back into my dorm, unbuttoning my jacket.
"Damn, it's cold outside--"
I freeze when I see Niall leaning over my desk, his eyes scanning the paper that has my poem on it.
He looks at me, his face blank.
I slowly remove my jacket, pushing some of my hair over my shoulder.
"This is about Harry, isn't it?" He asks me.
I sit on my bed. I look at my hands, exhaling slowly.
"Isn't it?" He asks again.
I shake my head. "Why would I write about Harry?"
"Because you still love him." Niall seems to realize this as he says the words, his face shifting. He sets the poem down and turns to face me full on. "You still love him," he repeats. "You have this whole time."
"No, no I don't," I protest.
"Blair, I'm not a fucking idiot. That poem is so obviously about Harry!"
"So what? It was only for a grade!"
"There is no fucking way that you wrote that only for a grade, Blair. Anyone could see it!"
I put my head in my hands.
Niall sighs and I feel the bed dip next to me as he sits beside me. He puts a hand on my back rubbing circles.
"I'm not mad," he says. "I'm actually not mad at all."
I peek at him through my hands. "What?"
"I think I kind of knew it all along," he says. "Since I threw that punch at Harry at the bar that night."
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"No, I'm sorry." Niall bites his lip. "I should have seen it. I shouldn't have held you back."
"Niall, I do like you--"
"But you'll never love me." He stares into my eyes.
My heart aches for us both.
"I want you to go back to him," Niall says.
"What?" I stare at him in disbelief.
"You love him," he says. "You love him, and he needs to know. Before he tears himself apart."
"What about you?"
"I'll find someone when it's time." He smiles at me. "And we can always be friends."
I smile back at him. "Of course we can." I wrap my arms around his neck in a final embrace.
"Promise me you'll tell him," Niall says in my ear. "When you go home for Christmas, promise me you'll go to him and tell him."
I chew on my lip. "I can't," I whisper.
Niall pulls away from me. "Why not?"
"He--he cheated--"
"I was there that night, Blair. Believe me when I say it was a mistake. He was drunk out of his mind."
"How can I trust him again? He even left a visible scar on my skin!" I stick out my arm.
"Because if you don't trust him again, he'll destroy himself. I know him, Blair, and you do too. You know that he'll tear himself apart over this."
I wipe tears that threaten to fall. Niall takes my hand and squeezes it. I finally nod, taking a shaky breath.
Niall smiles and kisses my cheek. "If you ever need someone," he says. "I'm just a phone call away."
I smile back at him. "Thanks, Niall."
"No problem. Now go. Get packing. Get packing, and go to him."
_______________________
Author's note: GUYS I GOT INTO THE CLASS I AUDITIONS FOR ANDMANDJWDHWKWJ....
now I'm eating fried chicken and my dog is breathing down my neck because he wants some chicken.
That is all,
Lauren and Tess