(MOMENTARILY ON HOLD) The Other Girl (Harry Styles)

Chapter Nine

This chapter is very dramatic. x

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Chapter Nine

Harry’s POV

“Harry, listen to me... you’re better off without London. I mean, she doesn’t seem like the person who’d be swayed by publicity, but she is, huh?”

I nod blankly as Chloe sighs slightly and rolls her eyes. But her words leave a mark in my brain: she doesn’t seem like the person who’d be swayed by publicity... and it’s true, she doesn’t. Could it be that she isn’t?

“I should... I really do feel ill,” I lie, getting to my feet. “I’ll see you later, Chloe.”

“You too, Harry,” she says icily, with a fake smile for the cameras.

I hurry out of the restaurant as Chloe cuts another small piece of meat and puts it placidly in her mouth. I have to go to talk to London. She can’t possibly hate me. Chloe must be lying – right? She... she trusted me... she told me things... she even sang my songs, for God’s sake!

I pick up the welcome mat when I arrive at London’s place and let myself in, calling out, “London?”

There’s no reply.

I call her name again, but she doesn’t answer yet again. Starting to feel a little worried, I climb up the stairs and knock on her bedroom door. Surprised to see that she doesn’t open it, I walk in and my heart stops. Everything is completely clean, which I’ve never seen before. Something’s wrong.

I spot a piece of paper discarded on her carefully made bed and pick it up with quivering hands, scared to read it, even though I know I have to. I read the first few sentences and immediately realise what’s going on.

London’s going to commit suicide.

She can’t! She just can’t... Oh, God, I bet this is all my fault. I start freaking out and fold up the note without even finishing it, scrabbling around for London’s phone. When I find it, I scroll through her contacts, heart beating a million times an hour. I reach the right contact and press it, praying she’ll pick up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Sydney,” I babble. “This is Harry, the guy... the guy London’s been avoiding lately.”

“Oh.” Sydney’s voice changes instantly. “Why are you calling from London’s phone, Harry Styles?”

“Please, listen to me,” I beg. “It’s an emergency. It’s London – she’s gone. She’s gone to commit suicide.”

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“Are you – are you serious?” Sydney rushes into the house, looking panicky, her ginger locks messy and windswept. “You’re not just kidding, are you?”

“Why would I kid about something like this?” I say in disbelief. “She left a suicide note, Sydney.”

“All right, all right. Well, we have to stop her. We’ll split up. I’ll head to the harbour... although I don’t think she’ll be there...” Sydney shakes her head. “Have you got somewhere to go?”

“I – I don’t know...” But then I realise that I do. “Yes. I think I know exactly where she is.”

“All right. Be careful, Harry.” Sydney looks up at me with scared hazel-green eyes, and I realise why London trusted her and became friends with her so quickly. Sydney is one of those rare girls who are pure and true to themselves, and really do care for their friends.