Chloe’s POV
I had known Harry since I was a young girl. So young that we grew up crying over broken toys and watching Elmo together. Some people said we’d one day grow apart, but we both knew we were inseparable. No matter what happened, the two of us were always there for each other.
I still remember that one time I got in a fight with my parents, and attempted at running away from home. Harry wouldn’t let me leave without him, and insisted on coming. He packed a container of Oreos, two juice boxes and our favorite fuzzy blanket into his power rangers backpack. Although we only made it past my neighbor’s house, we knew as long as we were together, we were safe.
There was also that time when I wouldn’t leave the house ‘cause my hair was brown’. I remember crying as a classmate said it was the color of dirt, and nobody in my first grade class liked that. “But it’s also the color of chocolate. Everyone likes chocolate!” He had told me, giving me a big, warm hug. I still think of that everyday.
There were so many amazing memories we had shared. Whether it was the time we built forts in my parent’s bedroom or the makeovers I had begged to give him, I thought we’d be best friends forever.
Once we had both turned 13, all those thoughts eventually faded into something I had begun to dread; the past. Harry had changed. He had moved onto better things, and better people. Popularity became his top priority rather than his dream job as owning the first ever ‘healthy ice cream’ store as he had planned as a kid. He was no longer just ‘Harry’, but now, ‘Harry, the most popular guy in 11th grade’. I blamed his parents complicated relationship, but then again, excuses.
Me on the other hand? I had still remained just ‘Chloe’. Chloe Van Derwall, the girl who’d rather read books on her free time than spend her Friday nights at house parties, smoking weed. I was never completely unpopular with the boys though, but when they did want me, it wasn’t for me. It was for sex. After all, that’s what the Cheshire High boys were known for. Pleasure over love.
“Chloe, you’re doing it again.” My best friend Lana whispered to me during math. “What?” I replied startled, waking up from a daydream. “You’re staring at Harry Styles! Do you know what he’d do if he saw you?” she asked while also writing down a math formula. I rolled my eyes at her. Lana had always been terrified of anybody with the label, ‘popular’. “He’s actually a really nice guy. Well, at least he was” I replied, hopefully setting her straight. As Lana began to open her mouth, Mrs. Hastings gave me her signature stare, which in words usually meant, ‘shut the fuck up or I’ll do it for you’. This also meant it was time to communicate using notes, and not our mouths. Moments later, Lana slipped me a bright pink sticky note.
You guys were like 10. You need to let go of your fantasy, cause people like us don’t belong with people like him. –L
Whenever Lana did this, it pissed me off. She always thought she was right when giving me ‘advice’, but usually, it just made me upset. Especially when the topic was Harry. I crumbled up the note, and opened up my binder searching for a loose piece of paper.
Will you stop crushing my dreams? We had a connection then, and I’m sure we’d have a connection now if you didn’t freak out every time I almost have the nerve to talk to him. -C
Although Harry was a ‘man slut’ and a ‘player’ to most of the people in our school, I was confident that one day he’d turn around. He’d realize that the past few years of torture he’d been putting kids through wasn’t him. He’d be known as just ‘Harry’ again, and nothing else.
As Lana read the note I had handed her, she smacked her forehead. She sharply wrote a response back, and I could tell by the way her face was scrunching up, she was mad. She tended to do that a lot, and especially when we were fighting. Lana handed me the slip of paper, being as sly as possible.
