Matchmaker

Matchmaker: Chapter Ten

Although after the VMAs a Larry breakthrough had seemed on the horizon, weeks went by without much change. Eleanor still lingered, and I continued to be paraded around like a show animal, modeling Harry Styles’ straightness.

And as the tour lingered on, I began to lose my grip on my life more and more.

Once our relationship had hit the tabloids, calls from my friends at home, who were hurt I’d kept such a ‘secret’ hidden from them, began to dwindle down to nothing.

Claire and the other interns wouldn’t even look at me, let alone speak to me, unless they were mockingly asking me if I’d like a cup of coffee.

My wardrobe had been taken over my management, and filled with expensive, fashionable, uncomfortable, and ‘not me’ clothes that hung off my body on each ‘date’ I went on.

I was sunburned from parading around outside for the paparazzi with Harry. My lips were chapped from kissing him in front of cameras. My eyes hurt from the flashing lights. I’d dropped a stone from stress. My cheeks hurt from smiling. My eyes burned from not crying. My hand hurt from squeezing Harry’s.

And Niall had slowly stopped joking around with me. He’d stopped hanging out in Harry and I’s hotel room, when Harry and Louis were off on ‘bro’ dates. He’d stopped midnight snacking with me. He’d stopped talking to me.

And so my heart kind of hurt too.

So I guess a breakdown was inevitable.

“You know,” I said quietly, while sitting in a meeting with Harry and management, discussing a date that was being planned for the weekend, which involved a basketball game and dinner, “I start school within the next two weeks. So, I mean, shouldn’t we start winding this down?”

I was met by fake smiles and beady eyes from the older members of the management team.

“Well, sweetie, of course you and Harry wouldn’t break up over something as silly as you starting school,” One of the women laughed, the others joining in and I blushed, biting my lip.

“But, you see, I d-don’t think I should-“

“Well, I’m sorry, but you and Harry breaking up is simply out of the question-“

“We have formals and things-“

“And Harry will accompany you,” The woman said shortly and I swallowed thickly.

It was stupid, so, stupid to start to get choked up over something as trivial as school formals. But this was my year, the year my Mum had always said would be the start of my becoming the woman I wanted to be.

Before she had passed, she’d spent her last weeks, sewing this amazing dress to wear to my first formal, it was pink and it flowed beautifully, and fit like a glove, and it was hanging in my closet at home, waiting for the day where I’d be able to pull it out and wear it for someone I cared deeply about.

‘Never settle’ she’d said, as she’d sewn the fabric together, bundled in blankets in be, with me by her side, ‘Never settle, because the moment you settle, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not. Be who you are Kat.’

“I can’t do this,” I said suddenly, back in reality, in the stiff chair in front of management, in the tight shirt they’d put on my back, Harry’s hand hot on my shoulder, burning my skin, “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

I stumbled out of the chair, knocking it over in my hurry, my eyes blurring with tears as I tried to catch a breath.

“Kate!” Harry called after me, as I pushed out of the room and ran, making it only a few steps before I collided into someone, familiar arms wrapping around me before I stumbled to the ground.