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My bedroom is a mess with clothes thrown everywhere as Taylor, Kendall, and the new addition to our group, Caroline Sawyer help me pack for my escape to Japan for the holidays.
This year I've been so busy with all my PR appearances with Bennett Cameron, having to attend one almost every other night, that I've hardly had any time to decorate my house for Christmas. The most I was able to do was put up my tree, however not a single decoration has graced it since the day I lugged it from the attic in early November.
Life has been absolute hell for awhile now, and not even the joy of Christmas has been able to help me forget. All I can think to do now is run, but even then, I know I can't escape Bennett and my management forever. I'm practically bound to them.
However, I can't deny my thankfulness towards Christine for even allowing me to spend my holidays alone without being glued to Bennett's side. The woman made sure to enforce the idea that wherever I go needs to be somewhere remote so that my appearance away from Georgia where Bennett's family are spending Christmas won't raise questions against the "close source" that's going to leak to the tabloids that we're happily spending the holidays together.
"Are you sure that you guys can't come with me?" I plead with Taylor and Kendall again as they work to fold my clothes for me while an offended Caroline hands me a sweater to put in my suitcase.
"Nice to know I'm appreciated. Do you have any idea how upset my mom was when I told her I'm not coming home to Texas for Christmas but instead going to Japan with my super famous author friend?" Caroline questions, shoving more warm clothing items at me with her spindly ringed fingers.
"Oh, Carl," I extend one arm and wrap it around her shoulder, using more force as she resists until eventually melting into me. "You know I love you, and I'm really happy you're coming, but my ego needs all of you to tell me I'm not a total idiot for signing with Modest after seeing first hand for five years how they treated One Direction like property, and now they're doing the same to me."
Caroline rolls her eyes harshly before pulling away and leaving the room to go gather a few of the other things on the list I made for packing purposes. Kendall takes the other dark haired girl's place next to me, instantly reaching over and rearranging the mess of clothes that I shoved into my suitcase during my rambling episode.
"First of all," the model starts, "I'm not going to tell you that you aren't a dumb ass, because you are. Second of all, I have a big family who would hunt you down and murder you if I chose to spend Christmas with you instead of them. Third of all, if I didn't stay here, who would come check on your cat everyday?"
Points were made.
For a moment, I open and close my mouth like a fish looking for any plausible argument against her statements, but find none, finally settling for defeat. I shrug her off with an annoyed wave of my hand and a knit of my brows in frustration at the situations I keep finding myself in. Kendall sends a knowing smirk my way before shooing me away so that she can fix the mess I made within my suitcase.
A small laugh leaves my lips at the sight of her struggling to zip it up, having to open it up again and try to fold my thick sweaters differently to help them fit. When I turn my gaze on Taylor who has been uncharacteristically quiet this entire time, my eyes bulge at the sight of her sitting on the windowsill with my journal wide open in her hands, blue eyes scanning over the pages admiringly.
She smiles widely as she reads, a small whisper passing through her lips, "Wow."
"Taylor!" I screech, making Kendall jump and let out an extremely irritated curse as the contents of the suitcase she just masterly shoved everything into goes flying.
"What?" The blonde's eyes widen as she looks at me with naivety, waving around the white journal with blue butterflies that is the very reason for my dramatics. Usually I'm unafraid for others to read my writing, after all that is the description of my entire job, but this... this is so different.
I find it easy to write certain facets of myself and things I've been through within the mindset of a character that readers wouldn't so easily pick up on unless they follow me closely, but when it comes to the poetry that I prefer to keep hidden within the pages of my journal, the thought of someone seeing that makes my heart pound, and not in a good way.
Of course, Taylor Swift, one of my closest friends who I already share everything with anyway isn't the worst possible person that could read it, but the things I put down, the short stories I tell when I freelance write to get something off my chest are feelings I've hidden so deep within the darkest parts of myself that I wouldn't feel comfortable sharing them with anyone except the pen and paper.
After all these years, I guess I just still find it hard to open up.
It truly is terrifying to put your heart on the line for everyone to see, especially the people who would recognize that the poems are about them.
"It's just personal," I mutter as I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and reach for the physical piece of my heart as Taylor pulls it away to keep reading.
"But, Belle, these are great! Have you ever considered song writing, because these poems are absolutely beautiful! I mean, they told me all my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential.
"You're the only shade of green I see.
"You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else."
"Okay! That's enough!" I blurt, finally snatching the journal from her hands and firmly closing it before holding the worn pages close to my chest. "They're just little poems I write when I need to get something off my chest, that's all."
"Looked to me like they went together like a story, I don't know, maybe about a certain someone," Taylor trails off with a suggestive smile, wink, and shimmy of her shoulders.
"And that's exactly why I didn't want you to read them," I point out.
"Sounded good to me," Kendall interrupts.
"Me too," Caroline adds as I turn over my shoulder and watch her walk in with a bunch of toiletries nearly falling from her arms. Kendall runs at the girl and nearly whacks her upside the head when she attempts to unzip the suitcase that the model struggled for so long with.
"You've got to be shitting me!" I complain, throwing my hands up in the air at the fact that everyone heard Taylor speak the private words I wrote.
"Belle, I think you have something amazing here. That's all I'm gonna say," Taylor shrugs as she stands from her seat at the windowsill and walks over, patting me on the shoulder before briskly moving past. "But I think the world should see it," she adds quickly, scurrying away before I can find something to throw at her.
As I shake my head at the girl, I think about how maybe she could be right.
Perhaps I'll think about it.
But probably not.
But just maybe...
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Our laughter blows out in front of us, visible as foggy air due to the cold. My evergreen skirt provides subtle warmth to my legs as it brushes against my mid-calf, creme sweater doing it's best to block the chilling New Year's Eve winds blowing against Caroline and I as we walk the Tokyo streets. The gold watch on my left wrist tells me it's only 10:26, so we still have awhile before we get to welcome in 2019.
Originally planning to spend the holiday in our hotel room like the boring antisocial homebodies we are, boredom struck quick, sending us to the streets of Tokyo to find somewhere to go.
A small bar catches our eye, the bright neon sign shining brightly into the dark December night. When we enter, the strong smell of alcohol reaches our noses amongst the distance smell of Japanese food. The bar is mostly empty, but despite that observation, the small group of people that occupy the small space are visibly having the time of their lives, singing away to a Nirvana song on the karaoke machine.
"Holy shit," Caroline breathes, stealing my attention away from the bright lights gleaming in the dark club around me that's more of a vacant hole in the wall than a rager.
"What..." I start to question, trailing off when I see who is among the small group of people covered in bright purple sparkly glasses, crowns, and beaded necklaces for the incoming new year.
First, I spot a couple sitting in the far corner, the girl's dark hair mixing with the boy's as she leans her head against his. He has a guitar resting in his lap which I would normally find quite odd if I didn't already know him and the fact that he carries that thing around religiously incase he'll ever need it.
The rest of the group is cheering around them, some faces familiar while others aren't, but the face of the man on the stage is one I won't soon forget. Chestnut curls have grown even more since July, and he is no longer wearing the same boring t-shirt and skinny jeans, this time adorned a white shirt with a navy cardigan over top, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The same familiar cross necklace hangs from his neck, hair curling up at the nape of it. Bellbottom jeans flare out at his feet as he jumps around the makeshift stage, voice screeching as he sings like Kurt Cobain.
"Let's go," I reach out to Caroline and start tugging forcefully on her arm, but she instantly halts herself and shoots me a confused look.
"Why?" She chuckles lightly. "It's not like we don't know him, Belle. We could at least say hi."
"No!" I blurt, gold eyes wide, now pulling on Caroline again. "It was really awkward last time we saw each other so I'd rather-"
"No fucking way! What?" A deep British voice rings out, halting the music and making me jump.
My hand instantly falls from Caroline's body, fists clenching at my sides as I squeeze my eyes shut and press my mouth into a thin line. I hope that maybe he's extremely drunk or something and will forget he saw me or possibly even start to think it isn't me, but I know I won't be so lucky. After all, Harry Styles has grown an aversion to alcohol over the years.
"Belle Granger!" Harry shouts jovially causing me to slowly turn around, a smug Caroline Sawyer holding a thin hand to her mouth while she shakes with laughter. Mitch and Sarah are still sitting close to each other, but have strayed a bit to see what the commotion is all about, smiling when they see me. Even Jeff and Adam, Harry's manager and bassist seem overjoyed to see me, but surprise is still evident in their eyes.
Trust me, no one is more surprised than me.
Harry scurries over, jogging like a little old man until he reaches Caroline and I.
"Caroline," he nods curtly at her, sending the brunette a small smile.
"Styles," she returns his actions dryly in an overly dramatic attempt to hide how much humor she's finding in this situation. I can assure her that nothing is funny about this. Taking in a deep breath, she cuts her dark eyes away, already practically running towards the bar as she mutters, "I need a drink."
"Carl!" I instantly shout, reaching out for her but meeting with nothing but air. An inaudible groan leaves my lips, followed by a considerable sigh, body sinking in on itself as I protectively cross my arms over my chest, mind racing a mile a minute at Harry being so close to me.
My eyes nervously fly up from the ground to meet his eyes, but when I find nothing but amusement gleaming in them, I quickly look away, biting down on my lip until it nearly bleeds like an anxious school girl who's just crashed into her crush in the hallway.
The way his green eyes assault my form, looking me up and down as if he knows the effect he has on me makes me shift uncomfortably on my feet, brown hair swaying as it tumbles down my back. When I get the courage to look at him again, his tongue is running over his bottom lip causing it to gleam as his pink mouth twists into a crooked smirk, eliciting his dimples for all to see.
"What are you doing here?" He asks passive aggressively almost as if my presence is no longer enthralling but irritating, eyes finally leaving me as he searches the empty space behind me. At first glance, Harry seemed thrilled to see me, however as he walked over, somewhere in my nervous fidgety haze of trying to escape, I noticed his eyes harden, and now with every slow step he takes closer, I can see just how, dare I say it, disgusted he looks.
"The same thing you are," I bite, sitting into my right hip and cocking my head slightly. When his green eyes still continue to search the emptiness behind me, only glancing to meet with the patronizing gold of my irises for a split second, I finally turn my head to discover what has him so captivated, but find nothing just like I thought I would. "What are you-" I start as I quickly turn back around, but that's when I realize exactly what, or should I say who Harry is looking for.
He's looking for Bennett.
A smirk curves up the right side of my lips, and I burn a knowing look into the tan skin of Harry's face. Of course he's looking for Bennett Cameron. If anyone in the world hates that little blonde weasel more than me, it's Harry, and as far he's concerned, I'm hopelessly in love with Bennett despite everything that happened between us... the abuse that only Harry and a select few others know about.
He has every right to be disgusted with me right now.
I'm disgusted with myself, but it's not like I have a choice in the matter.
"He's not here," I deadpan with a minuscule shake of my head. When the curly haired boy finally looks down at me for longer than a millisecond with furrowed brows and mouth agape, I decide to specify for him. "Bennett. He's not here."
At the mere mention of the socialite's name, Harry's face sours. "Where is little Benny? Upside down over a keg while his frat buddies cheer him on?" He asks, voice deeper than ever with what he's trying to mask as a simple inquiry, but I know Harry Styles well enough to see that he's trying everything he can to disguise his rage, running a hand through his curls to quell the furious shaking of his body.
"I wouldn't know," I shrug, my nonchalance obviously annoying the shit out of him. "We haven't spoken in about two weeks."
Fully expecting this to shake him, it doesn't. His growing anger only begins to make me seethe, red hot flames spreading from my neck to my cheeks, all the way to the tops of my ears, skin flushing a hot furious pink. I don't owe him anything, especially after we haven't spoken to each other in months, our reconciliation after his concert apparently nothing more than a forgiveness fest where we forgave and forgot, never to truly be friends again despite what we both secretly hoped.
We both wanted something better, but didn't find it, so therefore, sure... maybe he's allowed to be mad, because everyone's entitled to their own feelings, but he sure as hell doesn't get to treat me like some cheap sellout like he is right now. Quite frankly, it makes him no better than Bennett himself, and I simply won't stand for it.
"Aren't you two lovebirds," he drags out, accent full of venom, "supposed to be spending Christmas together?"
A small scoff, almost a laugh, leaves my full lips at his question, a hand going to my chest as I lean forward, eyes closed as my strangled laughter continues. "Nice to know that you've been keeping tabs on me by reading tabloids instead of maybe, I don't know, calling. Hell, you could even text me if you want, because I know some people hate talking on the phone. An email would have been nice too. Don't you and the boys have an email chain that you use every 84 years since you all like to pretend that you weren't like brothers at one point in time?"
His eyes narrow at the flames spitting from my tongue, nostrils flaring when he runs his hand through his hair again before bringing his fingers down to pinch his bottom lip between them. I've obviously struck a nerve. "I-" Harry starts to stutter.
"We aren't even dating, Harry. It's not real," I interrupt, face hardening, all original humor leaving as the truth I was never trying to hide from him comes out.
"What-" he lets out a strangled cough, eyebrows furrowing even more before straightening out as his face goes blank. "You aren't?"
"Do you really think so little of me, Bunny?" I sarcastically ask, using the nickname for Harry that feels so foreign coming from my tongue. I haven't called him Bunny in years, only ever doing so when the romantic tension between us was thicker than honey. "Of course I'm not actually dating Bennett. I'm not crazy! It's all PR, and trust me," I hold my hands up, eyes widening to the size of saucers for emphasis, "it's completely against my will. I came here to just get away."
"Oh," his eyes fall, relief filling the emerald irises at the truth coming out, all aggression slowly seeping from his body and dissolving into thin air. I can tell he's embarrassed for ever assuming such a thing just by the tenseness that never softens in his shoulders, cheeks no longer a cherry red but more of a soft pink. "So, we really are here for the same reason."
"Nice to know you actually heard me say that earlier since you ignored me in your unjust fit of rage, but what is the ever elusive Harry Styles escaping from this time?" I ponder with a hint of humor lacing my voice.
"Camille cheated on me."
"Oh shit," I gasp, hand flying up to cover my mouth in shock. That is not what I was expecting.
I was honestly expecting a basic answer like he needed an escape from a world where everyone knows where he is at all times, but never in a million years did I expect what he actually said. What's worse is that I'm sure it has been all over the news, but I didn't know because I've been a little preoccupied with my own demons.
But then again, he's been in a somewhat similar boat as me these past few months, yet he kept up with my life.
Why is that?
"I'm so sorry," I wrap my arms around myself tighter as I twist my mouth into a frown, gaze falling to the group of friends Harry came with, all of them talking joyously amongst themselves along with Caroline who seems to fit right in with everyone she encounters. Mitch is dying laughing at something she said, which makes a small smile hit my own lips at the sight. It's incredibly hard to get Mitchell Rowland to show any form of emotion.
"It's not that big of a deal. It happened back in July actually," Harry states.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Just needed to get away to avoid certain other things," he adds, eyes struggling to meet my wondering gaze. Something seems really off about the boy, but I can't place what it is. Eventually I settle on the idea that perhaps he's more hurt by the breakup with Camille Rowe than he's letting on.
"Doesn't feel good, does it?" I find myself asking. "Being cheated on that is," I add when his eyes cloud over to a misty green, the color of sea glass, with confusion.
"Um, no," he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck.
"Sorry, it's not like I would know, I just feel like that's something Kendall would say, and I've been spending way too much time with her," I ramble with a nervous smile, fighting the urge to pull my eyes away from Harry's.
"You guys are really close aren't you? You, Taylor, Kendall, and Caroline," he specifies with a small smile, his dimples small, but still visible enough to send me spiraling. His face has softened, youth seeming to never run out, even with the slight stubble gracing his sharp jaw that I'm only now noticing moves rapidly with the chewing of gum in his mouth.
"Yeah we are," I smile knowingly as I think about the girls. "They're my best friends."
This simple statement seems to strike a cord with both of us, realizations that each of our lives are so different now, all of us running with different crowds and rarely with each other.
Louis, Niall, and Liam all have a slew of different friends now that they work and spend most of their time with.
Zayn has Gigi, and that's all he seems to need.
Harry has his family and his band, while I have my new friends.
One world has split into six, occasionally crossing paths whenever the universe allows.
"Do you want to hang out with us?" Harry asks, motioning to his friends that are laughing loudly now as Caroline commands the group with her dry humor, fitting right in.
"Looks like I don't have a choice," I breathily laugh, my palms starting to sweat with nerves that I try hard to quell but can't. As long as I can control my fingers from finding their way to my rose ring, Harry hopefully won't notice how anxious I am, my nervous ticks that he knows so well being a dead giveaway to how I feel.
"We always have a choice," he speaks quietly, face almost suggesting that he means something more than just deciding to spend my New Year's Eve with him. If only he knew that I never had a choice in the matter of associating with Bennet at all.
"Belle, get your arse over here!" An already tipsy Caroline calls with a false British accent, something she loves to pull out, especially now that she's drunk and around all of Harry's friends that share the same accent as him.
"Cheer up, buttercup," Harry coos, stealing my attention away from my friend when he reaches his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side, my body tense with slight surprise at his forwardness. He starts walking us towards the small group, basically side-hugging me the entire way, musky vanilla scent overtaking my senses and calming my preconceived notions that this wouldn't be a good idea.
Somehow, whether it's the familiarity of being in this position with Harry or the simple need I feel to be close to him, I burrow closer into his lean body and wrap my arms around his middle, feeling him lay his curly head on top of mine, strong tattooed arms wrapping around me too as we walk. Caroline shoots me a wink to which I try to nonchalantly flip her off without anyone else noticing.
"I wanted to tell you," I whisper suddenly, looking up through my lashes into Harry's eyes, chin resting on his chest from our close knit position. "About Bennett. I just didn't want to burden you, because I'm not really your problem anymore."
"Georgia Rose," he stops us suddenly, fully pulling me in now so that his chin rests on the top of my head, arms wrapping around my body so tightly that I shrink into his massiveness. "You have never been a burden or a problem. I have never seen you as something that needs to be fixed either, because you are already absolutely perfect."
"Aren't you the one that used to say perfect girls are boring?"
"That was before I truly knew you."
I keep replaying those words in my head for the rest of the night, trying to find some hint within them, but deep down I know they were coming from a place of memory. Harry doesn't feel that way anymore. There's absolutely no way that he does.
Eventually, I try to push the thoughts away completely, because I can't do this to myself anymore. I've been doing well since I officially let myself move on in July, and I can't spiral back into that hole again where I keep myself trapped in the thought that I can only ever love Harry.
He doesn't love you, Belle, and you don't love him.
Even when Harry, Caroline, Mitch, and I all load onto the stage to sing karaoke, all agreeing on Somebody to Love by Queen, I can't take my eyes off of Harry. He grips onto the mic and bounces around, shrilly singing to reach the notes that only Roger Taylor can hit while Caroline and I absolutely butcher Freddie Mercury's parts.
As we all scream, no longer actually singing anymore, "I just gotta get out of this prison cell. Someday I'm gonna be free, Lord," Harry and I lean into each other, back to back, arms in the air. Our eyes meet, both of us smiling into the mics without ever even realizing that no one else is singing anymore and all eyes are on us.
We never stop spinning each other around and singing obnoxiously, even when Jeff Azoff starts waving his arms around to get our attention that the countdown to midnight has started.
The music continues as do Harry and I.
Harry goes deep, singing, "Find me somebody to love, find-"
I go high, "Find me somebody to love, find-"
Our harmonies ring through the club as our singing mixes with the countdown.
"Can anybody find me-" Harry and I scream while everyone else shouts, "5, 4, 3,-"
Just as the beat drops in the song, cheers erupt signaling the new year of 2019 has begun. People are jumping up and down, blowing horns and popping party poppers, Mitch and Sarah are kissing while Caroline downs her glass of whatever drink she's chosen for the night, but all I can focus on is my world spinning suddenly.
Harry grabs my hand, twirling me into him as the mic wire wraps around me in the same way his arms do. Dipping me down with a surprised yelp leaving me mouth, I instantly flush in fear at the thought of him doing what I think he's going to do, the smirk on his lips saying it all, but when all he does is pull me up, so close that our noses brush, I can smell the sharp mintyness of his breath before he presses a slobbery kiss to my cheek.
When we back away, Harry now holding me at arms length, he laughs brightly at my dazed face, my eyes wide and skin a furious cherry red.
"Wanted to repay the favor, darling," he refers to that early morning in his car when I kissed his soft cheek before running into the safety of my house.
A dazed chuckle leaves my lips as my fingers gently touch the skin where his lips brushed like a rare pink butterfly's wings, savoring the feeling.
Oh shit!
I'm savoring the feeling!
No, no, no!
Sighing, I put my head in my hands, shaking it as I do.
Happy New Year to me.
This year's resolution? Try to fall out of love with Harry Styles, because I am still hopelessly, endlessly in love with him. Infinity really does mean forever doesn't it?
And my heart was beating fast.