Misconceptions 》Styles

4.00

     There is a loud banging sound against my door, incessant and horrifying and scaring me half to death as I have no idea who is on the other side of it. I shoot up from my bed instantly, heart pounding rapidly as my hair fans out wildly behind me and I use my hands to push myself up. The sound persists and begrudgingly, I drag myself out from under the comforting duvet. My feet trudge against the cold wooden floor and I walk quickly through the corridor, reaching the front door.

      When I peer through the looking glass etched into the door, a mop of curly brown hair awaits me and I groan, wondering whether or not I should open the door. He probably heard my obvious wail of annoyance, but it didn't mean I had to let him in. Fake dating or not, he had no business in showing up at my flat so early in the morning or, anytime at all really. He had no business doing anything that wasn't arranged. We weren't mates, we were partners and only because I was forced to. If it were up to me, I would have never wanted to see Harry Styles again. But, I knew if I left him outside he would run crying to Randy and I wasn't really up for getting yelled at by her. Again.

     "Give me a minute, would you?" I yell when he starts pounding on the door again, rolling my eyes. Retreating to my bedroom quickly, I slide into a bra --who sleeps with a bra on, anyways?--, a grey pair of joggers. I wasn't keen on Harry or anyone seeing me in the white tea shirt I slept in, since it reached my mid thigh and was far too revealing. I didn't really care about my hair, so I left it in it's natural morning form --a bird's nest.

     I return to the door after about a minute and this time, I pull it open. Harry smiles, his teeth flashing and consuming his entire face. "Uhm, hi. What are you doing he-" He hikes the collection of paper bags in his hands up on his chest and without giving me a response, he slips inside and sets the bags down on the kitchen counter top. "Okay, just invite yourself in, that's fine." I growl, slamming the door shut and joining him in the kitchen, where he is unpacking the bags.

     "Good afternoon, sleepy head." He chirps, folding the bags in half once he finishes emptying them. I survey the grocery items sitting in my kitchen and knit my eyebrows together, wondering what on earth was going on.

     "Afternoon? It's actually really early."

      "I'd hardly call one in the afternoon early but, alright." Harry laughs, shaking his head.

     "Oh, uhm, I thought it was earlier. I don't get much sleep." I never set an alarm to wake myself up unless I had a meeting or photo shoot to attend. Rarely was I allotted sleep, which meant that I wasn't about to sign up for a persistent and annoying alarm clock to take it away from me. Too often I spent nights lying awake in my bed, being tormented more and more by the second. I was told each and every thing that was wrong with me by those many voices in my head, and it drove me insane. Why I would never be good enough, why I was so grandly detested, everything that made me disgusting, how meaningless I was, and so on. For this, every second of sleep was a luxury to me.

      Harry is rummaging through my cabinets, frowning as an odd look etches along his face. "What are you doing, idjit?" My voice wavers, because it is hard to try to be angry and cruel when you are scared. When your stomach is clenching because someone, especially him, is taking in the emptiness of your cabinets and it looks like they are growing suspicious. Then he moves onto the refrigerator, empty save for a couple of packs of water and a few containers belonging to Randy. They were full of her leftovers, or meals she had prepared especially for me. She always rambled about how a healthy model was a popular one, to which I retorted that I ate just fine, thank you very much. The food was shoved inside of the refrigerator and left to rot, time and time again. Unless of course, I broke down as I so often did. Because I was weak. And stupid. And fat. Always fat. "I'm a minimalist, I don't quite like clutter, really. Plus, I can't cook so, I'm never bothered to have a lot of ingredients around. I just eat out or have what Randy gives me, really." I explain quickly, grateful that I came up with an excuse so quickly. I should have been prepared, I should have had more decoys.