Exposure • h.s.

CHAPTER30.

One week later.

Apathy, thick and cloying like molasses, has consumed my thoughts, and weighed heavily on my spirit throughout this past week.

Another week has passed without a glimpse of Harry or the guys, yet their absence permeates the air, becoming palpable, and in a strange way, painful. After experiencing the most extreme and exhilarating hours of my twenty-two years, I'm now left hungering for life.

With the guys, especially Harry, danger and unpredictability always lurk around the corner. Their company is like ominous storm clouds on the horizon, foretelling an impending tempest. Maybe just a month ago, I wouldn't have even let such thoughts cross my mind, but now I can't deny that it's precisely this dynamism, this ever-present danger that could slip out of control, which makes me feel truly alive.

And I despise myself for it.

"...your name even made it to GosSpy! Can you believe it, darling? You're finally getting some recognition, just like your mom always wanted for you! I can already picture your name on the cover: Mabel Donovan, successful writer... and what if they interview you about your family? Oh my, I'd be in all the newspapers! How exciting!"

My mom's voice on the other end of the phone breaks into my thoughts like a burglar using a jackhammer to crack open a door. This must be the third time she's called me this week, a new record, considering that over the past year, she probably called me only twice, mostly to convey practical information. Since I've been in Los Angeles - or more precisely, since Harry's journalist friends published those nauseating articles about me, putting words in my mouth and subjecting me to the scrutiny of his fervent fans - I must have earned some brownie points in my mom's eyes. What matters most to her is that I've gained some exposure, some media attention. Finally, my mom can brag about me to her tennis club friends, claiming she's got something, a glimmer of reflected glory stolen from me. And honestly, I'm fine with that.

If becoming the talk of the town means getting an inch closer to my mother's heart, all the pain I've endured becomes a bit more bearable.

"Right, mom? It's a shame, though, that they spread fake news... like, Harry Styles and I are not dating. I think I'd rather get locked up in a cage with a hungry tiger than getting involved with Harry," I say, emphasizing my resentment towards him. I'm aware that not everything I say aligns with reality, but I tell myself that if I keep this mindset, maybe I'll finally convince myself that I don't like Harry, that I genuinely hate him (as I should) for the situation he's thrust me into, that he's a serial manipulator, and that there's no redeeming quality to his awful character.

The fact that I find myself somehow craving Harry's attention, a person so despicable, irritates me, since I've always been emotionally independent. I've never begged for affection from anyone, not even my parents, who gave me little to no attention, too absorbed in their own relationship dramas to notice me.

"Why'd you even say that, Mabel? You have a platform! Use it, right? Why don't you sleep with him, get what you want, and then move on? Harry is handsome, even if he's a bit weird from what I gather. You shouldn't even have to try that hard."

Oh my God. Goosebumps ripple across my skin.

"What the fuck, mom?"

My mother lets out an exasperated sigh from the other end of the phone, her words turning into a nonsensical defense.

"What's wrong? What did I say? People have been doing this forever!"

"Fucking gross," I retort, plain and simple. Her way of thinking is something I just can't wrap my head around, and it honestly creeps me out.