therapy [h.s.]

Four

"Just talk to one person, that's all I'm asking of you."

"Why?"

"Because you need to make friends Emma, you need to put yourself out there. You're a great girl, and once they got to know you, anyone would want to be your friend."

I huffed, sitting back in the chair. I knew he was lying, why was he even trying anymore? He just didn't want me to look like a loner; he doesn't want me to be an outsider.

Some things you just can't change.

"Fine," I grumbled, causing a dimpled smile to spread across his face.

"Great. You do that, and you tell me about it tomorrow, alright?"

"Fine, whatever. Can I go now?"

***

Lunch came around and I still hasn't talked to anyone like Mr. Styles said to. I knew I should, but I didn't know who to talk to or what to say. After buying my lunch, I decided to take a chance. I slid into a chair, and sat next to the most popular guy in school, every girl's crush since kindergarten, Nate York.

"Hey," I said casually, unwrapping my sandwich.

"Excuse me, who are you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Emma Steven. What's it to you?" I couldn't help but get defensive; it was a natural instinct of mine.

"What makes you think you can just sit next to me?"'

"Well Nate, last time I checked, we lived in a free country and you can't tell me what to do."

"I have more power over you than you know sweetheart, so I suggest you move." I leaned into him, trying to be intimidating, our faces only inches apart.

"Never." He sat back in his chair, and let out a breath before smirking.

"Fine, suit yourself."

Nate picked up someone's plate of pasta, and smeared it all over me; my face, my shirt, and into my lap.

"What the f*** is your problem?!" I shouted, making the cafeteria go silent. A teacher rushed in and eyed me.

"Emma, we do not tolerate swearing at this school, you should know this by now."

"It was his fault he-"

"She just spilled her pasta on herself, and then started cursing at me for no reason," Nate lied, innocently.

"Do I have permission to smack him?" I said sarcastically, before lunging towards him. My arms were grabbed, and soon enough the principal was standing behind me as well.

"My office," she said lowly in my ear, "now."

***
I barged into his office without even knocking. I was so ticked off about what happened today, and I was mad him for making it happen.

Mr. Styles' eyes shot up from his desk, and he took in my messy appearance.

"Hello Emma, what happened?" He asked, referring to the red stain on my shirt.

"You made me talk to someone, that's what happened," I grumbled, slouching in a seat.

"Well, here." He got up and searched through a bag, pulling out a large white tshirt. He handed it to me, and I glared at him, confused. "You can put it on. You know, because you're shirt is dirty."

I sighed, and gripped the hem of my shirt.

"Turn around," I mumbled. He smiled, before doing so.

Why was he always so god damn happy?

I peeled off my pasta-stained shirt, and pulled his on after. It was quite big on me, and you could see my black bra through it.

"You can turn back around know," I said, self consciously. He turned back towards me, still smiling.

"Well don't you look cute," he complimented, before sitting back down at his desk. He shuffled some papers around, and then looked back at me.

"So Emma, may I ask why you had pasta sauce on your shirt?"

"Someone poured it on me."

"And why would they do that?"

"Because I tried to talk to them."

"Who was this person?"

"A guy at my school."

"His name?"

"Nate. Why do you care? You're plan failed, so try something else. Try to fix me. It won't work."

He looked at me carefully, and then stood up, sitting in a chair beside me.

"Emma, nothing I do, or you do, is failing. I just want to get to the bottom of why you're so unhappy, and try to help you."

"I don't need your pity," I spat.

"I'm not pitying you. I do this because I care." I stood up abruptly.

"Bullsh*t! You don't care! This is your job, you have to this. This is what you signed up for, so you have to go through with it. You don't give a sh*t about me, or anyone else you give therapy to!"

I was taken back by my outburst; he was too. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until cold, wet tears rolled down my cheeks.

I hated this; I never cried. I hated looking so weak.

It was official, Harry Styles is the first man to make me cry.

He stood up, sincerity written in his features as he wrapped his arms around me. He shushed me gently, stroking his hand through my hair.

I continued crying, and I found myself wrapping my arms around his torso. He was warm, and his touch so comforting. For the first time in my life, I genuinely felt safe.

He pressed a kiss to my head before speaking.

"Emma I do care, so much. You may not believe it now, but I do. If I didn't care, I could just walk away now. I'm not tied down by anything, I'm giving you these sessions for free for crying out loud!" He tried to be humorous, but it wasn't working. He looked down at me, noticing I wasn't amused.

"But I won't walk away, I won't leave you."

He rubbed my back with his gentle touch, and I felt as though nothing could hurt me in this moment.

But in this moment, I had forgotten about reality.

asdfghjkl the feels are real. vote and comment, I love you xx

-Maddie