Author's Note: this chapter was accidentally deleted. I am so sorry. I will try to recreate it but it won't be as good :(
Figuring that Harry was still sick, I went over to his house early Saturday morning. Seeing a car in the driveway which I assumed belonged to his mum, I decided it would be best if I knocked instead of letting myself in.
Mrs. Styles answered the door. "Hello Nicole," she said kindly, though a grave look swept over her face as she looked at me. Harry was still laying on the couch, and even from outside I could tell he was feverish, but at least he no longer looked like he was about to die. He was laughing at the television and I couldn't help but smile. I was about to wave at him but his mother pushed me gently back outside.
"No sweetie I don't think so. Thank you for taking care of the poor thing yesterday, he's feeling a lot better now. But you do know that you're the cause for all this right?" Her tone was condescended and I already knew I didn't like her. She made me feel small. Mrs. Styles shut the door quietly behind her so that Harry wouldn't realize that she had had gone out.
"How so?" I protested, standing up a little straighter so that we were eye to eye.
"Well you see, you broke his heart."
She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips as if she were scolding a child.
It was the tackiest thing I had ever heard.
"That's ridiculous. A broken heart doesn't make someone ill."
She bent down slightly to lecture me some more.
"When a boy's heart is really broken, he can't sleep or eat or do anything. Poor Harry hasn't slept in days, not until you came around yesterday. Like I said thanks. But I don't think Harry will be able to go on if you break his heart again."
Our ears both perked up when we heard someone shuffling around inside. Mrs. Styles have me an artificial smile and headed back to her son, leaving me in the middle of their porch. I pressed my head to the door, straining to hear what she was saying to Harry.
"Mum, who was that at the door?" Harry asked curiously. He sounded so cute, so innocent.
"Nobody, just a friend."
"It sounded like-."
"It didn't sound like anybody," she snapped, though her voice soon became warm and protective, "Come on, go to your bed, you must be getting tired of the couch by now."
I left their house irritable as ever, only to go to my own room where I moped and laid around miserably for the rest of the day.
Around midnight, I got a call from Harry. His voice was hushed, as if he were hiding this from his mom. And that made it all the more special to me. He thanked me and told me that he was feeling great now and asked me if I wanted to hang out with him soon. I could almost see him smiling on the other end of the phone. I wondered if he was imagining my smile too. I told him of course and we chatted for awhile until I fell asleep while he was telling me about his favorite football team.
I awoke the next morning to the scent of roses. Scarlet petals were scattered around my crisp white sheets, making a trail that led to the open window. There was a whole bouquet on the pillow next to my head, the thorns carefully sniped off. I couldn't believe Harry had gone thorough all of this trouble to make such a romantic gesture. It was really beautiful. I noticed a small note tied to the flowers and my heart pounded wildly.
"I still love you," I read aloud. My hands began to shake when I recognized the handwriting. It wasn't Harry's like I had thought. It was Zayn's. I pulled the covers over my head, the smell of the roses suddenly becoming intoxicating.
"I still love you," I repeated, "I still love you. I still love you. I still love you.
