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My name is Belle Olivia Granger, and I was born on June 1, 1996 at 3:40 A.M. to Jane and Charles Granger. My father is the owner and CEO of a large business, and my mother was a loving school teacher who devoted her life to helping anyone in her path.
Being the first and only child, I was coddled often, which some might say is what led to the future issues I would face in life. As a young child and even until my early teens, everything was handed to me, and I was never pushed to do anything on my own.
Relying on people for everything, including the tiniest thing as ordering my food at a restaurant, is what started my downfall.
My parents divorce is what finished it.
I never had any pets because of my dad's hatred for them, and I never had any friends because of my own fears of talking to other people. I couldn't even talk to my own parents with one hating me and the deep trepidations that the other would crumble from under anymore stress.
Losing myself in books and the occasional good song was all I had for the longest time, stuck in an endless loop of nothing but cold hard numbness.
For the longest time I was broken... until they fixed me. He fixed me.
They fixed the best parts of me, but unfortunately it took too long and things went too far before I could realize that sometimes not only did the best parts need mending, but the deepest darkest parts that I didn't even know I had needed mending too.
You see, when I spent so long in a deep dark hole that I dug and took much precaution in burying myself in so that I could never escape, I only ever focused on the darkness within myself instead of what could be the light. After years of self-deprecation and choosing other's wants and needs over my own, I grew tired.
Even though I would still gladly drop everything and run to protect those very people that I gave up every aspect of my life for, there was a time when I had to force myself to stop all together. The past two years have been anything but easy, but I'm proud to say that I am in such a better place than I was then.
Not to be that girl that romanticizes hard parts of her life, but I really do look back on everything that has happened to me and feel strangely thankful for it.
Who knows where I'd be if my parents stayed together. I know for a fact that I'd probably still be handicapped when it comes to anything social and would probably be nothing more than a trust fund brat who spends summers at the lake. I never would have met One Direction, and probably would have been anti anything to do with them considering I always had this strange need to do the complete opposite of everyone around me.
Who knows where I'd be if I was normal and never had any problems with expressing my emotions. Maybe I would have caught onto Louis' feelings he had for me that summer and been able to save us all a lot of heartache by shutting them down and confessing my own deep well-hidden ones for Harry. Louis never would have been my first kiss, and somehow I feel like our friendship wouldn't be as strong.
Maybe if I had told Harry my feelings sooner, it would have saved us a world of hurt.
There are so many maybes and what ifs that plagued my mind every day and every night for months when we first broke up.
What if this and maybe that.
Finally I had to stop wondering and focus on my future.
Not all of the decisions I made since that fateful day in the hotel hallway have been good ones, but I made them nonetheless, and like I said, I'm done with wondering about what could have been.
I finished my book! Sunflower, Vol. 6 by Belle Granger, me, hit shelves in May of 2017 and quickly shot to gain critical acclaim, something I never dreamed to be possible. Of course the book's release still came with trials such as the entire world trying to pick it apart, and questioning my sanity for accidentally dropping it the same day as Harry's first album. As often as I told interviewers that I had no clue of his album release date and hadn't spoken to him in more than a year, they didn't believe me.
Typical.
As for the subject of the story being loosely based on the two of us... there was much more truth to those rumors than I wanted anyone to know.
Since then, I signed with a management company.
Modest in fact.
I know how bad that sounds, but when they came to me and stated that they were interested in opening a new division that wasn't just for musicians, I felt as if I'd be foolish to say no especially with how pushy they were, and it's not like any other agencies were knocking my door down. Besides, with some help from Niall, I ultimately decided to sign and have had nothing but good things come from it despite my secret deeply rooted hatred for what they did to the boys.
After that day, my life has been a whirlwind of work. I'm currently working on my second book along with a smaller poetry book that will release soon. I've traveled the world like I always dreamed, written travel excerpts for my blog that I'm being paid to do which I find absolutely insane considering blogging was something I always did for fun when I was younger, and I've even started modeling oddly enough which has introduced me to some of my closest friends.
Never did I imagine that so much would come out of two years, but here I am in 2018- 22 and happier than I have maybe ever been. For once, I feel like my mom would be proud of me.
I bought my first house a few months ago, finally ridding myself of Jane's that I've been meaning to sell forever.
The place is everything I've ever wanted and more with a cottage feel that makes me feel as if I'm Sleeping Beauty and hiding away in the forest with my fairy godmothers when in reality I'm in a gated neighborhood in Los Angeles.
My house is white with dark wood paneling and a perfect vintage feel. Lush green grass thrives all year long along with trees and colorful flowers that litter the property. It's the dream home that my mother and I have always wanted, and somehow I just know she's here with me everyday.
I'll never forget the house warming party where for once I felt like the center of attention instead of the backing vocalist to the larger act. All of my friends came, new and old. The living room and dining area were littered with people, food, and drinks as old songs from our childhood and teen years such as I Gotta Feeling and Starships bounced off the walls. This was the first night I was able to officially meet Gigi Hadid despite having mutual friends, but thankfully Zayn came and introduced us.
Niall was extremely joyous that night seeing as his first album was just released, Liam and Cheryl brought Bear who I was able to meet for the first time, and sadly Louis couldn't be there because it was his first weekend with Freddie in awhile.
Mitch and Sarah expressed their sympathies, but ultimately couldn't come because of Harry's busy touring schedule.
But seeing everyone that did manage to make it was one of the happiest moments in my life where I felt like I actually mattered, and that's a rare feeling for me that I won't soon forget.
I spend countless mornings in my overly pink and frilly bedroom simply enjoying the light that naturally wakes me everyday and the sunsets that I can see perfectly every night that send me into the most perfect state of calm. Olivia seems to really like the bedroom too, because she never seems to leave it, always purring like crazy when I join her in the sheets the moment my eyes get too heavy to continue writing in my office every night.
However, despite how much I love every other room in my home, the office definitely takes the cake. It's everything my childhood self ever imagined a room could be. Bookshelves line the walls with books and all of my favorite films and boxsets of television series. Posters line the walls depicting images from my real life and images of my favorite bands. The room feels like vomit consisting of something random from every little nook and cranny of my brain, but I wouldn't want it any other way. Some may say it looks cluttered and the colors clash, but to me it's absolutely perfect.
In the back corner is a table that holds my record player and the hundreds of records my mother and I have collected over the years, my favorites of all time hanging on the wall above it.
Eight of the nine that hang have blessed my ears since I was a child and the years that followed, each album having a deep meaning to a specific time in my life.
Two of them are debut albums of my best friends, and two more are the only vinyls to be released by my second favorite band. I think it's very important to note that even though I know One Direction personally, no one will ever compare to Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon in my eyes.
Sorry boys.
Two are written by a woman that I've always looked up to, and truth be told, I think one of those albums has a lot more lyrics about me than I thought when I first listened.
That just leaves the one that hangs in the middle. I haven't brought myself to listen to it despite it being out for more than a year at this point. Just looking at it brings tears to my eyes and so many memories of when the album was made.
The pink pool he sits in is an idea he's had for years that the band never liked, so staring at the cover and seeing him sitting in that bubble bath he's always strangely dreamed of brings me an overwhelming sense of pride. Water cascades down his back and sticks his newly short hair to his neck.
I remember the day he cut his hair. He looked so different... so young and hopeful.
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He's nervous. I can tell.
Harry sits at the table in front of me with his head down, eyes brooding as he stares at his phone. His chestnut curls are pulled up into a tight bun, and I can't help but sit here and admire his beauty. The way his perfectly pink lips purse together in concentration and his jaw sharpens when he clenches it is a dead giveaway that he's playing something stupid like Candy Crush, but it only makes me love him more.
"What's on your mind?" I ask when I eventually force myself up and round the table towards Harry where I stand behind him and start to massage his tense shoulders. He instantly softens into me and closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side and gasping out at the pain I relieve.
"Everything. Jeff just emailed me my schedule for Dunkirk, and I'm starting to regret it. I don't feel like I'm cut out for it, and God knows what people will say when the casting news drops. I mean honestly, Belle. What was I thinking? It's Christopher fucking Nolan, and I'll probably make a complete fool of myself around all those other actors-"
"Shhh," I coo as I calmly untangle his hair from the tie and let it fall loosely in my fingers before setting it gently around his shoulders. I begin massaging his scalp, running my fingers through his tresses several times before finally finding the skin of his stiff neck and rubbing the tender spots. "Don't worry about it, baby. Everything's gonna be fine. Besides if Christopher fucking Nolan didn't think you were good enough, you wouldn't be cast in his movie in the first place," I assure him.
His hand adorning the rose ring we both share creeps up and latches around my right hand, removing it from his neck as he pulls it to his lips and kisses it before simply holding it at his chest and squeezing it gently for support. "Thanks for feeding my ego, but you've always been a good actress, so forgive me if I don't believe you."
"What can I say," I playfully state as I lean over his right shoulder and put my face in his, "I'm a gemini."
"Oh, shove it," he grumbles in an attempt to hide his laughter as he pushes me off and stands from the table. Just as our laughter dies down we hear a knock at the front door signaling Anne must be here with the hair dresser. The curls that I love so much are about to get chopped off into the hair cut of a 1940's soldier.
Is it bad that I'm already mourning the loss of hair that hasn't even been cut yet?
"Here we have a rogue Harry Styles heading downstairs to meet his worst enemy, a pair of scissors," I narrate with a damn good Australian accent as I film my green eyed boy on my phone.
"Hey," he giggles and covers the camera with his large hand, quickly shoving it down. "No filming! Leave it to the professionals. I know you can't keep a secret, and I don't want this documentary we're making to get out."
"Sorry sir," I blush and rub my lips together in false guilt as I reach out and fluff his curls with my fingers as he smiles at me, raising his eyebrows almost questioningly when he sees all playfulness leave my eyes, a deep sigh escaping my lips.
"Do you have to cut it?" I ask sadly, eyes falling as he walks forward and places his hands on my shoulders with a grin gracing his lips that I don't even have to look at to know is there. I can even perfectly picture how the dimple on the left side of his face is deeper than the right.
"Even if I didn't have to do it for the film, I think I'd cut it anyway. I don't want to personify my hair, Georgia Rose," he breathily chuckles as he wraps his arm around me and starts guiding my body through the doorway and down the stairs.
All I do is huff dramatically in response, time blurring together, because before I know it, Anne is hugging me as we stand in the doorway of the kitchen, Harry sitting shirtless with his hair cascading down his back as the hair dresser prepares to cut it, a man with a camera filming the entire thing.
Anne runs a hand reassuringly up and down my arm as my lip starts to tremble and a nervous laugh starts to leave my throat that's quick to turn feral, Anne starting to laugh along with me, but I don't think she knows it's to hide my tears. I'm literally sobbing over hair that I've grown way too attached to. Therapy sounds really good right about now.
When Harry notices, he looks at us with a large grin and shrugs his shoulders forward, a laugh of his own leaving his throat when he beams, "What are you laughing at?"
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The sound of my doorbell jolts me from the memory, a single tear falling from each eye that I'm quick to wipe away with a sniffle. Two years should be enough time to get over someone, but not when they're the person you thought you'd be with forever- that you still want to be with forever.
As I rush down the staircase, his eyes are all I can think about. I miss looking into them more than anything. I miss running my fingers through his hair, and I miss his strong arms being around me. I miss his tattoos and I miss his laugh.
I wasn't ready to say goodbye forever, but my greatest fears came to light the day I told him I needed space.
It's been two years, and so much has changed, yet the sheer pain I feel when I think of Harry Edward Styles is like a stab wound that won't heal and never will.
As much as I would like to say that all is forgotten when I open the door, it isn't just like it never does- it never goes away.
"What are you so mopey for?" Her face falls as soon as the wind from the opening door blows my hair back and I'm met with my friend's effortlessly beautiful face.
"Why do you think?" I ask as the sun lights up her a hair a brilliant auburn like that of the inside of a moist piece of chocolate cake.
Her face falls and she rolls her dark eyes, running her tongue over her plush lips as she shimmies her way through the door, a bag full of makeup and hair supplies slung over her shoulder as she grabs my arms and shakes me lightly making my eyes widen. "Snap out of it, B. He isn't worth it. Trust me. I know," the girl chuckles which causes me to giggle lightly. "Besides, now that I'm here, there's no reason to be sad, because tonight is going to be the best revenge," she smirks dramatically and releases an aura of nothing but confidence.
"I hope you're right, Kendall."
"I always am."
And with that, we head into my house to prepare for the night ahead.
I don't want your sympathy, but you don't know what you do to me. Oh, Harry!