In Sequence | H.S.

03.

Madelyn.

The pure shock of his thumb on my lips wore off and soon after, my feet followed his. My heels are sticking to the ground due to spilled liquor and my heart is pumping so hard I'm afraid I'll pass out before I can get to him.

Him being Harry Styles.

Harry Styles being Him.

The playboy has me running after him to apologize for running out on him this morning. To apologize for ignoring the connection we so blatantly had.

To apologize for giving him hope that the conversation would be continued. Hope that I knew he never should have received.

I feel like my feet are floating and the closer I get to his car, the heavier they become - weighing me down as if to tell me to stop. As if telling me that going after him is the last thing I should be doing.

But I don't listen.

I yell out his name as he reaches for the car door.

I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline or the wind that prevents me from hearing my voice. Although I can't hear it - he still can. He turns around.

I reach him after what feels like eternity and grab his wrist. He freezes and looks as if he's about to say something- but nothing comes out because he's cut off by the sound of an alarm. I look around frantically trying to figure out where it is coming from. It surrounds us and takes hold of every fiber. It's so loud and as my grip on Harry's wrist gets tighter, as if trying to ground myself so the noise doesn't whisk me away, it gets silent. So silent I could hear a pin drop.

So I try again, "Harry-"

My eyes open and I sit up in bed, completely drenched in sweat, frantically looking for my bedside cup of water. I've had the same nightmare for two nights. For two nights I've chased after Harry and every time my attempt is interrupted by my waking up.

Today is Monday which means my first official day at the arena starts in only a few hours. Which means Harry will be there. I haven't seen him since Friday night and I'm hoping that our little interaction did not draw eyes on me.

I drank the water until the cup ran dry hoping that delaying my start to the day could potentially change the outcome. It won't. I'll still see him and I'll still feel the hankering to apologize.

Maybe I will.

As I'm brushing my teeth and combing my hair, my mind starts to wander.

As I'm getting dressed, my mind starts forming the script of the apology.

As I'm putting my black loafers on, nothing else is on my mind apart from Harry.

The mere feeling of dread has taken over and I know it's not because of the job. I am so incredibly lucky to have gotten this position and I refuse to let a one night stand ruin it for me. I refuse to let a man flatten my confidence and take control, again. The drive was silent and until I parked in my designated parking spot, I don't think I even blinked. My eyes are dry and my fingers tremble as I open my door.

"Oh for fuck's sake."

Oh no.

I felt his eyes on me before I even turned around.

The moment my blue eyes met his green, the feeling of desperation was caught in my throat. The way his eyes traveled down my body - analyzing me. His eyebrows furrowed and corners of his mouth turned down slightly, seemingly disappointed in what he saw.

I thought I looked good - at the very least, professional. I set out my outfit of tan high waisted slacks and a white sweater out on my bed last night after hours of trying on different combinations.