15 Years // harry styles

chapter seven

B

I awake tucked into my comforter quite tightly, taking in the usual sounds of the city.

Then I remember there's one of the most famous people in the world sleeping on my couch, and I can't help but wake up a little quicker than usual.

I brush my teeth with haste, giving up on fixing my hair after 5 minutes of struggling with it, finally getting the nerve to head out of my small bedroom.

I peak around the corner, prepared to see a mop of tousled hair and a snoring boy, but instead I find a lump in my throat.

The couch is empty.

He left.

He left.

I can't help the tears that start to prickle in my eyes, and my brain begins to laugh at me, it's previously-ignored warnings now ringing in my ears.

Of course he left. Why would you expect a boy like him to stay with a girl like you? He's got thousands of girls falling at his feet. It wasn't even romantic interest, he just stayed so he wouldn't seem like a dick.

"Morning!" Lydia pulls me out of my thoughts, frowning when she sees my tears, which have started rolling down my cheeks despite my attempt to hold them back. "Oh honey, c'mere, I'm sorry, I know yesterday was hard."

I play it off as if that's what I'm upset about, crying onto her shoulder for a few minutes before pulling it back together. She makes me some coffee, talking about anything and everything to keep me calm, but all I can think of is Harry's hand in his hair and his smile, the way B sounded on his tongue and his lips on my forehead.

"Wow. Were you feeling okay last night?" She teases me, cocking an eyebrow. I don't have it in me to respond so I just stare at her until she chuckles. "You washed the mugs. You never do that."

I can't help but laugh. How nice of him, to wash our tea mugs and then skip the fuck out like a coward before sunrise.

A few minutes later, Lydia starts scrambling as she realizes she's late for a wedding cake taster session and runs out the door with a quick "love you!" barely making it through the door before it closes.

The tears really begin to flow then, more so over my own stupidity than the fact that he left. How could I ever think he could stay.

I take my coffee mug to my reading nook, sitting it on the windowsill before yanking the blanket up around my chin. A thud sounds through the room and I look down at the floor, seeing my copy of Black Ice lying there.

I almost consider throwing it across the room, not wanting to remember the night I spent with it, but a ripped piece of paper sticking out of the top catches my eye.

B, is all I can see, scrawled out in messy handwriting and I thumb through until I get to the page it marks.

You fell asleep reading, so I marked your place. After you went to sleep security threatened to put me on lockdown if I didn't report back to the hotel. I didn't want to get you or Lydia involved in anything so I left. I feel absolutely awful. I hope this will help make up for it, but I understand if you don't want to come. If you need a ride you can text me. 739-829-0273
Hope to see you tonight xx
- H :)

I feel dumb again for the way my heart soars, but I can't help it. Guilt washes through me for my unjustified doubt in him, but it's suddenly overwhelmed by what I find taped to the back of the note. A black badge with a glowing rectangle on it, The 1975 VIP LOUNGE in print across the bottom.

I let out a bit of a squeal, suddenly very glad that I'm alone in the apartment. I quickly punch his number in my phone.

I didn't have Lydia make any lemon bars for Jerry, so it looks like you'll have to take me tonight.

My heart flutters more than it should when the typing bubble pops up almost immediately.

Thank god you aren't mad. I felt like absolute shit leaving you there. I'll see you at 7, B. If I can wait that long.

I blush deep red, grabbing the pillow from behind me, hugging it close with a smile, blushing even deeper when I catch a whiff of Harry's cologne on it from the night before.