A Clash in Styles (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

A Clash in Styles: Chapter Eighteen

Becca

“I mean you could have given me a heads up about the freakin’ birds

on his chest!” Becca screamed at Zayn through the phone.

“I didn’t think anything of it!”

“Really?! After all that, ‘It means loyalty. Million miles away. You can have that with Harry, crap!’” Becca punched her mattress a few times. “Oh, god I must have looked like a total spaz, staring at his chest like that!” She cringed, holding a hand to her face.

“I swear!” Zayn said with a laugh. “It’s only been what, ten minutes?! And you already managed to thicken the friction!”

Becca shook her head in defeat. “I know, but I’m blaming this one on you!”

She could almost see him rolling his eyes. “Of course you are! Look just talk to him. Or avoid him. Just make sure that when I show up tonight the both of you are still alive!”

Becca shrugged. “Not making any promises.”

“…Just stay in your room! I’m picking up Chinese for dinner. I’ll let you out when I get back.”

“Yes, warden!” Becca snapped.

She heard a giggle. “Hanging up now. Love you!”

“Me too. Be safe.” Becca grumbled.

Hanging up, Becca pulled herself to the edge of the bed and hung her head with embarrassment. What the hell is wrong with you, woman?! Becca’s thoughts were interrupted with a sound. She didn’t know what it was. It sounded like scratching.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to relax, and fell victim to her thoughts. ‘You can have that too, you know. With Harry.’ Zayn’s voice echoed in her mind. Images of the last few weeks shot through Becca’s recollection faster than she could manage. Harry sitting at the kitchen table. Those god-awful pajamas. The way his hair never sat the same way twice. Pancakes. Lattes. Absent minded singing. Becca’s heart began to race. She could feel her palms begin to sweat. There was something very strange going on inside of her as she saw herself sitting at the bottom of the bathtub. ‘What do you want her to feel then?’ She heard herself ask. The image that she had carried in her heart over the last three weeks was now brought to full view. Harry’s eyes, burned the piece of her soul that she thought had died, died when Sam- She shook her head. She didn’t want to think of that. She pulled Harry back. His perfect face, his perfect lips expelling the word. ‘Safe.’

*scratch

Becca inhaled deeply. The noise has brought her back from whatever that was going on inside of her. Looking down she saw her hand was clinging to her t-shirt. Over her chest. She sat in the silence, trying to catch her breath. She looked around her room, which wasn’t really her room. In the house of her guy, who could never really be her guy.

She rocked herself back and forth, trying to push the feelings out of her body. Had these feeling always been there? Why were they hitting her so hard all of a sudden? And if he did. If he did love her, how could she have been so cruel? I wish there was a way to know. She thought. That he doesn’t completely hate me.

*scratch.

“What the hell is that?” Becca said out loud. Glancing around the room Becca’s eyes stopped at the floor, right in front of the crack beneath her bedroom door. Holding herself up against the foot of the bed Becca limped to the small pile of things that had obviously been slid through the crack. Looking down a smile built up on Becca’s face. At her feet sat Harry’s new album, a new sketchbook, and chocolate. Just as Becca was about to reach down to retrieve her gifts another emerged from the other side. The new Batman she had been ogling online all week.