Notorious

Coward

*DOUBLE UPDATE!!! (So, make sure you read my previous chapter, "La Douleur Exquise")*

Two necklaces –one pearl and one diamond, one pair of Louis Vuitton pumps, my favorite Chanel perfume, and a first edition Pride & Prejudice.

Everything my mother has ever given me fit inside one cardboard box.

"How can you do this to your Louis'? What have they ever done to you?" Avery practically whimpers, clutching onto the red-bottomed black heels desperately.

"They were bought by my mother."

With that, I yank them away from her –ignoring her pleas, because it truly is pathetic- and tossing them in the box marked CHARITY. Although, they weren't technically going to a charity, just an auction for charity –that we all had to attend for publicity in a few days anyway.

"I know you're trying to cleanse yourself of our mother, but giving away everything she ever gave you? Really? It's a tad dramatic."

I ignore Liam at first, choosing instead to knock Zayn's feet off my glass coffee table and scold Niall for getting crumbs on my rug. But, I ignore Harry. Just as I had been doing all week. Of course I know that I will have to talk to him eventually, but I will avoid it for however long I can.

With my new found resolution to become independent and not rely on others for my happiness, I felt an innate need to rid my apartment of everything my mother had ever given me. Which, not surprisingly, was a very few materialistic items with no substance.

So, I called the band over for moral support because even though I put on a façade of indifference, this purge did hurt more than I had anticipated.

However, they had brought one uninvited guest that I would've kicked out, had it not been for the fact that I wasn't speaking to him currently.

Something, that he had been trying his damndest to change by brushing by me inappropriately, or making everything I said an innuendo, or making his insipid jokes, or being his stupid charming self.

It's driving me insane and I know I am bound to crack.

"It's not dramatic, Liam. I just don't want anything to do with a woman that doesn't want anything to do with me."

"I'm sure if you just sat down and –"

"She hasn't even tried to call me since dinner. Three weeks and not a word."

He doesn't say anything more after that and I'm glad. The last thing I want to do is discuss my neglectful mother in front of my very nosy bandmates. And there is one in particular that won't stop staring at me.

All night –no, all week- since the scene outside the restaurant, Harry has been watching me. I can tell he wants to say something, it's in his eyes and in the way he can't stop fidgeting around me: playing with his hands, running them through his hair, fumbling with things around him. But, his mouth remains closed.

And for that, I am grateful.

I got off the Styles rollercoaster for a reason.

I'm getting my life in order: ignoring Harry, making amends with Louis, writing songs for the band, ignoring Harry, leaving my mother behind me, ignoring Harry.

I'm better. I'm trying to be more mature and kind and level-headed and-

"I swear to god, Niall, if that's my last cup of coffee I am going to take your beloved guitar and shove it somewhere where the sun don't shine."

Okay, so maybe not really level-headed. At least not when it comes to coffee.

Niall just shakes his head, eyes wide, with shortbread in his mouth as he joins the others in my living room. Though, all but one of them is too engrossed with FIFA to care about my useless threats that I would never follow through with.