Harry Styles Scares Me

Chapter Twenty One

I could have done as I'd said and taken the tube to the closest stop to my flat but I got off three stops away. I just needed to walk. The air hadn't yet turned cold at night so the shawl took care of any chill I might have gotten.

I prayed the 30 minute tube ride would've been enough for me to figure out what the hell had happened that evening. I was disappointed to realize I had barely scratched the surface. I was still so upset that my heart raced inside my chest.

I spent the walk home hating myself while simultaneously being angry with Harry. I knew this wouldn't work. I knew it from the moment it started. He and I were just too different and while I hated him for being ashamed of me, deep down I knew he had reason. This wasn't a matter of my low self esteem (though that was an entirely different matter altogether), this was a matter of us being incompatible. Trying to force it would only make it worse.

I rounded the corner to cross the parking area for my building, stopping when I saw Harry leaning against his car.

He looked worried as he mindlessly tapped on his phone. He let out a frustrated sigh as he looked up, his eyes falling on me.

He rushed towards me while he shoved his phone into his pocket,

"I was worried about you." He blurted out, his eyes wild, his breathing labored, "I..." He swallowed, "Wanted to make sure you got home ok."

I stared back at him, a little shocked that he was there. I nodded once as I walked towards my door,

"I'm ok."

This had definitely thrown a wrench into my whole "he's ashamed of me" theory. But never one to throw in the towel early, I wasn't about to let go of it that easily.

I heard him behind me, waiting as I opened the door. Once inside he pushed it closed with his palm flattened against it. I turned to look at him,

"Y-you...ah..." I squeezed my fists together in an effort to regain myself, "You didn't have to come here..."

He stared back at me. His somber expression telling me exactly what I needed to know about where his head was,

"Sylvie...what happened tonight?" His words were laced with confusion.

I didn't blame him. I was confused myself. The anger I'd been trying so hard to bury all night came raging through me. I shook my head,

"Why don't we go anywhere?" I asked.

He blinked, still on the side of confused,

"Wh-what?"

I took a deep breath as I started to pace back and forth in my kitchen,

"We never go anywhere. We always hang out together...at your house...in the dark room...in the studio...but we never go anywhere."

He seemed to get it then, his head shaking vigorously as he walked towards me. He turned my shoulders so I was facing him,

"No." He said matter-of-factly, "What you are thinking isn't-"

"Isn't it?" I interrupted, "Our one excursion tonight left me alone in that room with people who had NO IDEA who I was." I yelled, unable to control my anger any longer. I pushed his hands off of me, "You left me."

He shook his head, seemingly trying to get a grip on his own emotions,

"I told Jeff to keep an eye on you."

"Jeff?" I scoffed, "He had no idea who I was. Glenne asked me if I was your new fucking publicist." I threw my hands up in the air, "And why WOULD anyone know who I was? You certainly weren't there to tell them."