Over Again

Chapter Twelve

“This is really it, huh?” Harry croaked, finally looking up from the ground.

“I guess it is…” I whispered, trying to hold back my tears. I’d cried way too much that week.

“Are we going to keep in contact or…?”

“Harry. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.” I stated. “Have fun with the guys on tour and…just forget about me, okay?” I advised him, although I really didn’t want him to forget about me.

I watched him shaking his head with a smile, like he thought I was being an idiot. “You really think it’s going to be that easy?”

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say!” I was starting to get upset again. I was just trying to make things easier for him…for me. “This is so fucking hard, Harry! I can’t do this. I’m not going. I’m staying here. I won’t leave. I’ll wait for you, I’ll be here when you get back.” I sobbed before Harry finally pulled me into his chest and I drenched his t-shirt with my tears. This was probably the millionth time I’d threatened to drop going to Australia ever since I’d made my first decision.

“I love you, okay?” I could hear the sad smile in his voice. Those were the last words I heard from Harry before he hopped on a plane to tour the world, doing what he loved. And those words rang through my mind every time I saw something that reminded me of him. Which was all the time. 

“Georgia? Are you in there?” Emily, who I’d met at culinary school, snapped me back to reality.

“Huh?” I looked around.

“We’re here,” She announced, pointing out the car window before stepping out of the vehicle.

I followed behind her, gazing up at the apartment building the culinary school had paid for their students to live in for the next 18 months. We were finally here. Sydney, Australia. Our apartment had a beautiful view of the Harbour. The following week once Emily and I had settled into our shared home, we joined the other cooking students who had planned to go on a night out clubbing. It was strange walking around the city and seeing One Direction posters in almost every store. I’d forgotten how famous my best friends really were. My heart ached at the sight of Harry’s face. I shook the thought out of my mind; tonight was about me. This whole Australian thing is about me. Not Harry Styles. I was here to have fun and chase my dreams.

That night at the club I met the most attractive Aussie guy, and my drunken mind thought that his accent made him even cuter. I was all over him and he was all over me. And I didn’t have a single care in the world. But by the time the guy had suggested to go back to his place, I didn’t have the strength. I felt like I was cheating on Harry. Like I was betraying his trust. But we’d broken up. In the end, my alcohol fuelled mind got the better of me and I let the stranger take me home. He laid me down on his couch, rubbing his hands along my upper thighs. My whole body tensed as soon as he lifted my dress up to my waist and began tracing his tongue along the line of my underwear. I quickly pushed him off, pulling the hem of my dress back down to cover myself. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this. This isn’t me…I mean, I don’t even know your name.” I said rapidly before collecting my things and running out his door.

I sat on the sidewalk of a street I’d never seen in my entire life before tonight, leaning against the brick wall of a building in a country I’d only lived in for a little over a week. I felt disgusted with myself, violated even. I could still smell the alcohol on me. I tucked my knees into my chest, leaning my head down on them as I let a few tears trickle down my cheeks. Pulling my phone out of my jacket, I dialled the number of the only person I could always talk to about everything.

“Hey mum,” I sniffed down the line. “Sorry if you were asleep or whatever, I haven’t really figured out the time difference.”