Who You Are

Chapter 2

Shit.

This wasn't good.

Harry Styles and model Mimi Hanover step out for frozen yogurt. Is romance blossoming in Beverly Hills?

The pictures were even worse. He was opening the car door for her, his hand on her back in one of them, a purple spoon in his mouth. He wasn't smiling or anything. In fact, he looked almost unimpressed as his eyes shifted side to side from one picture to the next, then down at his ice cream as he walked around to the driver's side door.

Normally, I probably wouldn't have cared one way or another if I came across a headline about Harry Styles. But since he and my best friend had started dating, I'd taken a special interest. And it was fun to see things about him knowing he'd lived at my apartment. Knowing that he loved my best friend.

This was the first headline that caused me any sort of hesitation.

I didn't know if Maddie knew about this little outing. It was entirely possible that it was a publicity stunt, and he'd already informed her about it. She and Harry hadn't gone public yet, and it was important to both of them that they keep their relationship to themselves. This may've been a way for them to throw everyone off. And it was definitely possibly she just hadn't told me about it, especially given what had happened last night. But if she didn't know...

This was bad.

And it sucked because if that was the case, then we were both dealing with shit where the boys we loved were concerned.

"Emily?" the barista called. A girl with fire-engine-red hair and a friendly smile. "Grande Blonde roast?"

"Thanks," I said with an attempt at a smile.

Normally, I wouldn't be having coffee this late in the afternoon. My cutoff was usually around 1 pm. But class ended half an hour ago, and I had heaps of work to do, and after a mostly sleepless night, I needed the boost.

Plus, I deserved it. And the chocolate chip cookie I'd bought myself, too.

Today was horrible, and class didn't help. I couldn't focus on anything but Bryan, wishing and hoping that I'd hear from him and things would be okay again. Trying to piece the whole thing together in my head until it made sense. Until it didn't seem so suspicious. Until his reaction yesterday, replaying over and over in my head, became the apology I wanted and needed to hear.

But I hadn't heard from him at all. Not even a text. And that hurt more than our fight did. If I meant anything to him, if he still loved me at all, even if he was still upset, wouldn't he want to put this behind us? Set things right? At least begin to make the attempt?

There was no way in hell I'd be reaching out to him first. He was the one who owed me an explanation, not the other way around.

Which left me waiting for him to man the fuck up, pissed and hurt more than I'd ever been, with a coffee that was one hundred percent going to keep me up tonight to continue to wait for a call or text that likely wasn't going to come. And with the feeling that as much as it would hurt, maybe this relationship with this person—who considered my looking through his phone worse than him cheating on me emotionally and/or physically—wasn't the relationship I wanted to be in anymore.

Even if I still loved him and didn't want this to be the end.

But if this wasn't going to be the end, he had to show me why.

The apartment was empty when I got home after a lurching subway ride where some of my boiling hot coffee bubbled up and out of my cup onto my hand. The universe's way of adding insult to injury.