A/N: Comment as you read, yeah? This is my first attempt at first POV inside a guy's head. So any comments will make my day.
HARRY:
Everyone had gone absolutely crazy.
I refused to look at Zayn right now. Instead, I opted to lean back with my arms crossed in the oversized armchair. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see Terry smirk at me. She was lying on the couch, sending gooey eyes to her boyfriend who was currently calling my gir—
Stopping myself, I refused to go there. She wasn’t mine anymore, and I didn’t know if she ever had been either. I groaned and sat up straight. My body was restless, and I contemplated getting a guitar simply to do something with myself.
“Cami?” Zayn said, and I glared at his back. “Whoa, it’s been a while… It’s so crazy to talk—I mean… how are you?”
He went silent as he sent me a triumphant glance before he left the room.
I looked over at Terry and nodded in his direction. “How are you okay with that? Shouldn’t you keep him on a shorter leash or something?”
She laughed heartily. “Oh, Harry. You’re like a pouting child sometimes.”
Resisting the temptation to cross my arms again, I simply gawked at her. “What?” It came out as a high-pitched squeal. I cleared my throat. “I’m not.”
“You so are,” she said with a broad smile. “Look, Harry. You know we love you and all, but you’ve been hiding out here for so long.” She reached over to nudge my shoulder. “You’re in a slump, mate.”
I rolled my eyes at her. “I’m not in a slump, Terry. I’m just … Really fond of your company. That’s all.”
Terry cocked one of her slim eyebrows. “Really? My company? Now I must laugh.”
Entangling my fingers together, I shrugged lightly. “I’m dead-serious.”
“If that’s the case,” she said. “Then maybe you should come out with me tomorrow. We could go shopping or go to the spa—those locks of yours could need a trim anyway.”
I widened my eyes. She couldn’t be serious, could she? Before I could think of a good enough excuse, Zayn came back into the living room. Saved by the bell.
“Yo, mate,” I said and almost jumped out of the chair in order to get away from Terry, who was, once again, smirking at me. “Want to do something? Hang out? Jam a bit?”
Zayn just stared at me. “I talked to Cami.”
I gulped, and my heart began to race. I wasn’t ready for this. “How…” I choked up and sat back down. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a moment, in an attempt to find my inner peace. “How is she?”
“She apologized, of course,” he said. “A lot of times, actually. Had to interrupt her to shut up.”
Snorting, I turned away and this time I did cross my arms. Of course, she’d apologize to Zayn. Their friendship had been so precious.
“She’s not well, though,” Zayn said.
I jerked around. “What? Why not?
He shrugged. “She didn’t give any details, but it sounded like she’d just been crying. It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk about it, so I let it go.”
Fuck if she wanted to talk about it, I need to know what’s wrong, I thought and clenched my fists. Lucky for me, my hands were hidden behind my biceps, so my companions didn’t notice.
Why had she been crying? I knew it couldn’t be because of me, and there’d been no rumors of a new boyfriend either. I’d deliberately avoided talking about her anywhere I went in order to keep the media believing we were still together. It was silly, I know. But it made this whole situation suck much less.
But what if she’d moved on already? I swear to god if someone hurt her, I will…
“I’m going to go see her,” Zayn interrupted my mental threat.
“You what?” I stared at him, then at Terry, and then back at Zayn. “Have you lost your mind? You can’t!”
“That’s not your call,” Terry said. “He’s friends with her too. He can do what he wants.” She rose from the couch and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
They were the polar opposites in looks. He was dark and mysterious, while Terry was a small fair skinned glitter bomb. It was like watching a pixie mix with a werewolf.
God, I’ve watched too much Twilight. I shook my head.
“But she doesn’t want to talk to us—she made that perfectly clear.”
He shrugged. “She seemed excited to see me.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Fuck it. If she wanted to see him, who was I to stop her?
“I think it’s great,” Terry said. “I’m sure the past few months couldn’t have been easy on her.”
“You’re not afraid I’ll do something?” Zayn asked with a smile on his lips.
She shook her head and kissed his lips. “I trust you. Completely.”
“You two are nauseating!” I gagged. It wasn’t on purpose, but Christ, did they have to rub it in my face?
In retrospect, it might not have been the wisest decision to stay with the happiest couple on earth during my… Whatever this was. I should have visited Niall instead, but his late-night partying and overly optimistic attitude to everything, literally made my hair go gray before time.
“You love us,” Terry said and laughed. “Now, are you going to man up and pack your bags to go with him, or will I have to do it for you?”
“I’m not going with him,” I said.
“Of course, you are.” She walked over to me. “You’ve been moping over this girl for months, so I think you should go there and talk to her. Get the air between you cleared, and if needed, get the closure—just do something.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that. I hadn’t exactly been moping about her. More like… Secretly hoping I was stuck in a very realistic nightmare. And that at any time now, I’d wake up in my bed at the hotel in Milan with Cami by my side.
“Besides,” Terry said. “I’m tired of washing your dirty underway.”
“You could just have asked me to do it myself,” I muttered.
“And kick a wounded animal while it was on the ground? I’m not that cruel.”
When I glanced at her, she was smiling. It was a genuine smile, and her face had that smug expression when she knew she was right.
Sighing, I finally caved. “You really think I should go?” She nodded, and I looked over at Zayn. “What about you?”
He held up his hand. “Hey, I’m in no place to decide what you’re going to do with your life. But you obviously miss her, so why not simply get it over with? Who knows, maybe it’s all a misunderstanding.”
I didn’t see how it could possibly be a misunderstanding. Cami hadn’t made any attempts to contact me in over three months. When I’d woken up in the hospital after being shot, the first thing I’d done was to ask about her. But she’d already left the hospital—not to mention the country without as much as a single note.
At first, I’d thought she was called back because of work or something, but when I’d tried calling her phone, it had been disconnected. It wasn’t until later that I found out from Steven that she’d changed her number. By then, it was pretty clear that she didn’t want to talk to me, so I hadn’t asked for her number.
Zayn, however, had it coded into his phone. And during the past two months after our latest tour, I’d been staying with Terry and him. Many nights, I’d gotten drunk and contemplated stealing the number from Zayn’s phone, but I’d always stopped myself.
“Don’t you have an apartment in New York?” Zayn interrupted my thoughts.
I looked at him. “Yeah, in Manhattan. Why?”
“Figured we might as well stay there instead of a hotel. It could provide a bit privacy.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.”
“Wait… why are we going to New York?” I wasn’t following.
“That’s where Cami is; she’s attending this fancy art college there. I thought you knew that.”
“I must have forgotten it.” Actually, this was complete news to me. Maybe I hadn’t been keeping up on her whereabouts as much as I thought. I thought she was in Chicago with her sister.
The thought of Ludmilla Hanson still gave me a bitter taste in my mouth. From what little I’d pieced together from the various news article about the biggest scheme of the year, they’d both had their reasons for all the lies. Nevertheless, it still felt like a stab in the heart whenever I was reminded how Cami had fooled me.
“So, it’s a yes to the apartment?” Zayn asked.
I nodded absentmindedly.
“Great, I’ll order the tickets. You should go pack up,” he said.
On heavy feet, I walked to their guest-room. I stopped at the end of my bed and looked around. It was hard to see I’d been staying here for months. Sometimes, I got a little obsessive about my surroundings, cleaning whenever I felt stressed.
And the stress had been my constant companion for a very long time now. I sighed and pulled out my suitcase, then walked to the closest and began to pull out my clothes, throwing them on the bed.
I was going to see Cami… It still seemed so unrealistic to me. I wonder if she knew I was coming. Would Zayn tell her?
I’d been waiting for so long to see her again. Her smile when she laughed at one of my bad jokes, the way her eyes sparkled when she was talking about photography—even the small crease on her forehead whenever she frowned.
Over the past few months, I’d missed all the small things the most. Her innocence whenever I accidentally made a perverted joke, and her inability to arch just one of her eyebrows. I chuckled. She would always look so surprised and naïve whenever she tried. It was simply adorable.
Closing my eyes, I imagined her standing in front of me. I’d say something silly, and she’d try to hide her smile, but I knew I’d win eventually. I loved her laugh.
The bad memories still haunted in the back of my mind, as well. Along with the lingering doubt about whether everything had been an act. I had tried to convince myself that everything couldn’t possibly be an act. But at the same time, the fact that she’d just disappeared from my life so abruptly, didn’t exactly give me much hope that she’d ever cared about me.
Yet, here I was, packing to go see her again.
It was pathetic, really. I was addicted to the sight of her. Like a junkie to a rush, I’d trade my right arm for her touch. Well, maybe not my right arm—I needed it for a few things, but I’d do anything but that.
I packed the rest of my clothes, and then brought my luggage out into the living room.
“All set,” I said.
Terry looked up from her magazine with a smile. “Good boy.”
Rolling my eyes, I walked over to the armchair again, mulling over what I’d do when I saw Cami again.
“Are you excited?” Terry interrupted the silence.
“Sort of, yeah,” I admitted. “But also terrified.”
“That means you’re about to do something worth spending time on.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Anything worth doing starts with an emotion—hope or dread for the situation to change.” She threw the magazine on the coffee table. “If you didn’t care or felt anything, why bother trying?”
“Wise words from a pixie woman,” I said.
Terry stuck her tongue out, grabbed a pillow and smacked me with it. “I. Am. Not. A. Pixie.”
“It’s better than being a troll.” I snickered. “That usually only happens in the mornings, though.”
“Jerk,” she muttered.
“Honey,” Zayn called as he stepped out of his bedroom. “Have you seen my jacket?”
Before Terry could respond, I answered instead. “No, love-pigeon, I haven’t.”
The expression on Zayn’s face was worth dying for. “I… I was talking to Terry,” he said.
Terry snickered beside me. “It’s on the coat hanger in the hall.” Then she turned to me and smacked me with the pillow again. “I think I liked you better when you were sulking.”
“No one likes me when I’m sulking,” I said.
“That’s true, you big baby.” She grinned. “It’s good to have you back, Harry.
A/N: So what do you think? Give this a vote, maybe? And give me your thoughts in the comment section. If you all are super amazing and vote and comments, there might be another chapter tonight. I'll do my best, anyway.