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"Who is Harry Styles to you?" The interviewer asks me.
I never wanted to do this. I never wanted to be sitting here in my own living room with some woman and her crew from a basic magazine who is most likely going to twist every word I say, but here I am.
It's only been two days since I woke up to my world being turned upside down. That day I made the decision to live as normally as possible- well as normally as I can. I haven't been watching TV or going on social media, I've barely left my house in case of the off chance someone recognizes me and follows me back, and I haven't been in contact with anyone other than my mother and One Direction... until now.
Saturday, August 2nd. I found out that the world believes that Harry cheated on Kendall Jenner with me. They have no idea how right they are, but they just don't have enough solid evidence to prove it. However, I'm sure there are plenty who know the truth, but I wouldn't know since I've been avoiding every single app on my phone except the music one.
The entire day was spent hunching over the toilet and throwing up every bit of food and anxiety that plagued my body, not being able to keep a single thing down. Even a sip of water was a rarity, because the cooling liquid would upset my nervous stomach so much.
My phone kept ringing off the hook, and I was so tempted to pick it up and look, almost answering once when a strange number called, but Jane was quick to rip it from my hands and turn it off, tucking it away so I was no longer tempted.
"You should at least answer Harry," Jane told me over the dull sound of a Disney movie playing on our television. "If you don't want to talk to him then at least let the other boys know what's going on and that you're okay," she added, running a thumb over my hand gently when I didn't answer, only choked down another wave of nausea.
I didn't take her advice.
But I wish I had, because maybe I would have slept that night instead of worrying so much about them.
Sunday, August 3rd. I slept my day away again. After staying wide awake all night, I finally fell asleep just as the sun was coming up, but when my dreams were filled with butterflies and green eyes, I jolted awake to the unfortunate realization that I'd only been graced with sleep for a few hours.
I was practically unrecognizable when I looked at my reflection in the mirror. After a day of throwing up my entire stomach and no sleep, I could have passed for Emily from Corpse Bride with my paling skin and bright purple under eyes. What's worse is that even the slightest thought of putting something in my mouth made me feel like throwing up again.
With the beginning of the new school year coming up, Jane was called into work for a meeting at her elementary school, so when I sluggishly came out of her room, I found a note telling me to eat and leave my phone alone.
I didn't eat, and immediately turned my phone on.
Sitting cross legged on our yellow couch with the device gripped in my shaking hand, I scrolled through the several missed calls and voicemails from the same number as the day before along with the same treatment from other strange numbers.
As I was about to listen to all of my messages, the phone started to blare again with another unknown number.
"Hello?" I stupidly answered while biting down on my thumb nail nervously. The silence in the house made it easier for me to hear the woman on the other end mutter out a small 'oh thank God,' as if she was extremely thankful to get me to finally answer the phone.
"Is this," she paused for a moment and I heard rapid typing before she continued by asking, "Belle Granger? Is this Belle Granger?"
"Y-yes," I hesitated, my mouth pressing into a line and eyes searching the sunlit room in front of me.
"Amazing! We've been trying to get ahold of you for awhile now!" The woman blurted with a newfound joy to her voice from the original blandness it held. "I'm Carissa Smith with Variety and we would love to interview you about the headlines that broke about you and Mr. Harry Styles on Saturday morning."
Well I wasn't expecting that. This whole thing is just as big, if not bigger, than I thought. After twenty-four hours of trying to convince myself that things would die down sooner rather than later and that there is no way anyone would actually care that much about little old me, I was proven wrong with one sentence.
"I'm not interested," I said a little too forcefully, knowing now that every other unknown number in my phone was probably from people and outlets just like this who were looking to capitalize and make a quick buck off this story at Harry, Kendall, and I's expense.
"You might want to reconsider," the Carissa Smith lady bit back, all false kindness wiped from her voice like it was never there in the first place. "We're willing to pay."
"I don't need your money," I stated bluntly as I began to feel the nausea coming back. The woman was extremely persistent, so it scared me to think how other journalists would be and how long the destruction of my privacy would last. I tried to recall how long other scandals stayed in the forefront of people's minds, but came up with nothing considering I've never really paid much attention to tabloids before.
Carissa Smith from Variety clicked her tongue before leaving me a number to call if I changed my mind. At the time I was unsure why I wrote it down, but looking back on it I guess my gut was telling me to, and my gut is always right.
When the call ended and another one caused my phone to ring again almost immediately after I hung up, I threw the device down and ran to the bathroom, hunching over the toilet again. It's safe to say that the bathroom is now my absolute least favorite place.
Shuffling back into the living room, I leapt onto the couch and thought about turning my phone off again like Jane said I should, but it just kept ringing and ringing and all I could do was stare at it wide eyed with fear and anxiety.
Eventually it stopped.
The incessant ringing finally stopped, and I could feel my sanity coming back. Until it started going off again like a siren with another caller, making me scream out in frustration. I lunged for the vibrating phone and was about to chuck it at the wall until I saw the caller ID.
Harry.
"Are you okay?"
That was the first thing he asked when I finally answered and pressed the phone to my ear. I didn't even have time to say hello before the question was spilling from his mouth.
"Do you want the truth or another lie considering we both seem to be really good at pulling those out of our asses?" I questioned him, suddenly feeling the most like myself that I'd felt in days.
"So I take it you're not okay?" Harry's accent sounded deeper than ever just before he muttered, "Obviously you're not okay. I don't even know why I asked you that."
"How's Kendall?" I wondered aloud. My heart was heavy and full of worry for Harry and I, but the aching pain I felt for her was so much worse. It's hard enough to find out that your partner is cheating, but to find out in the public way she did made my nausea come back so strong that I had to put a hand to my mouth in fear of more stomach acid coming back up my raw throat.
There was a pause on Harry's end that lasted longer than I expected. He seemed to be pondering my question, but I think the truth behind his silence was that he was genuinely shocked that I'd asked him such a thing instead of keeping the focus on myself. No matter how hurt or terrified I was, in the long run I knew this wasn't, or at least shouldn't be about me. Kendall was the one with a publicly broken heart, and I was the one who had to keep mine hidden.
"She's um," he finally spoke again, voice thicker than molasses. "She's actually doing fine. She told me that she kind of saw it coming by the way I would um... talk about you."
I didn't expect that answer, but even though I believed him, my guilty conscience didn't let up and neither did my upset stomach. Everything still felt so wrong.
Yes, their relationship was fake, but only a fool wouldn't be able to see that she cared for Harry on some level- a deeper level than friendship.
Yes, she told him she was fine, but when people say that they almost never mean it.
Yes, Harry kept me in the dark about her, but I was still the other woman.
Yes, after finding out about Kendall Jenner, I still kissed him.
Everything still felt so wrong for a reason... or a million reasons.
I opened my mouth to speak- to simply ask him how he was doing and how management was handling this, because as far as I knew there was no proof of us being together, only videos and images of him hugging me while I was crying. Now that's embarrassing, especially for a girl who hates emotions.
However, before I even got the chance, Harry blurted, "You know you can't talk to anybody right? Anyone who wants an interview, you need to ignore them."
It was my turn to go silent. Did he really believe that I'd ever do something like that?
"Do you think I'm fucking stupid?" I accidentally spoke my thoughts out loud, shocked at how quickly the words slipped off my tongue, but I didn't regret it.
"No, of course-"
"Did you really call me just to say that? Is Simon Cowell hovering over your shoulder right now or something?" I interrupted him with so much anger lacing my voice and taking a strong hold of my body that I was seeing red and practically shaking with rage. Whether it was really the intense fury or just the lack of food that caused the trembles is up for debate.
"Belle, would you just shut up and listen-"
"You shut up and listen! Hell, put me on speaker phone and record this so you can play it for anyone who needs to hear it," I pulled the phone from my ear and started yelling into the speaker, slowly saying each word to get my point across. "I won't do any interviews, because I would never do that to you or the boys. Understood? Now go enjoy your little tour and tell the other boys I miss them."
That's when I hung up. I turned my phone off too, satisfied with myself and finally able to part with the device without feeling the need to see what the world thought of me.
I spent the rest of the day in a ball on the couch watching That 70's Show and ignoring my responsibilities like always, however I continued to wonder if I overreacted with Harry. Maybe I did, but I was so stressed and the thought of him even thinking that he couldn't trust me was like an additional stab to my already bleeding heart. The decision to call him and apologize was an easy one to make.
I guess I'll be apologizing for more than overreacting.
Jane came home. She arrived earlier than usual from her meetings with the school board.
They fired my mom.
John Cameron, the superintendent of the school district and Bennett's father, fired her. He fucking fired her because of me. She tried to deny that fact, but I know that my name being in the media so much, The Scarlet Letter style, is what caused it. Either that or he didn't take well to finding out one of his prized teachers had a restraining order put against his golden boy of a son.
Monday, August 4th. That brings us to right now. My mother begged me not the take the interview. She knows what this will do to Harry and the boys... what this will do to me, but I have to do it. She needs the money.
She was fired because of me, so now she'll be financially stable until she finds another job because of me.
I just don't know how to tell Harry. Finding out when the interview gets released will kill him- it will kill us and bury our bodies six feet deeper than they already are, so it's a good thing I'm already dead and have been for a long time.
"Harry and I are better off as friends," I finally answer Carissa Smith from Variety who now sits across from me in my living room. Her crew fills up the small space, and Jane watches worriedly from the kitchen. "But all friendships come to an end, and that's what the world saw happening in that car."
"The world begs to differ, Ms. Granger," Carissa smirks, leaning forward suggestively.
I narrow my eyes at her over-perky self and stop twisting the ring that's now loose on my bony finger.
"You don't even know me."