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  • Dedicated to Harry Styles, One Direction
                                    

Chapter 18

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The hospital staff had made Harry leave as soon as we went back to my room. He'd said goodbye, kissed my forehead, and left with Louis and Niall in tow. It had been two days since then, and I'd finally been released. I was glad to finally be free of the confinement of the hospital's walls. Harry'd had to spend some time in the studio recording with the rest of the boys, and hadn't come for me when I ras released. I'd gathered my belongings and taken a cab home, my mother waiting for me when I got there.

"What happened?" She'd practically shrieked in my face after seeing my broken arm and cut up face. I'd had to spill everything about what'd happened since Saturday. We'd cried and eaten ice cream until we thought that we'd puke, and watched Mean Girls almost four times while we talked. But my stomach twisted in knots as I came to the realization that nothing could really fix my broken parts as much as Harry could. I removed myself from the couch where we were still watching television, and walked up to my room. I pushed open the door to reveal my walls, still covered in One Direction posters. It felt like I didn't live here anymore as I walked in admiring all the photos of the boys that I'd become so close to. I would never have thought that everything I'd ever dreamed of would come true. I wandered along the wall, running my fingers over each and every poster. I nearly jumped when my phone vibrated from where it sat upon my desk, making a sound similar to a machine gun. I reached for it to find a message from Harry.

From: Harry

I just got done at the studio with the boys, and I want to take you out. How does 8 o'clock sound? ;) x

I could feel myself getting butterflies again as my fingers glided over the keys.

To: Harry

It sounds perfect. :) 

I quickly tossed the phone on my bed and ran into the bathroom. I stood gripping the sink, the knuckles of my good hand turning white, staring at myself in the mirror. I prioritized my laundry list of problem areas. I fumbled around through the drawers looking for the eyeliner, while simultaneously heating up my curling iron. I awkwardly dabbed on a bit of lip gloss, and attempted to put on a little bit of eyeliner using only one hand. I finally gave up on it after I had to completely wipe my eyes clean of the wobley black lines one too many times. I only had half my hair curled when heard a car pull into the driveway, followed by the doorbell ring out. 

"Rae, I think Harry is here," I heard my mother call out. I tried to hurry up and finish my hair, but before I knew it I heard the front door open, and Harry's beautiful voice say, "I'm Harry, and it's lovely to finally meet you."

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