Dancing with the Boys (Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter 17: Happy Birthday

Chapter 17: Happy Birthday

The next few days hadn’t been so bad. Harry and I were getting along alright. We didn’t argue as much; he was like an acquaintance. But while our relationship was getting better, I was getting worse. Harry knew it too. I had to tell him if anything out of the ordinary happened, but we tried to ignore it. I was having more and more confused moments. And I’d vomited again. Only once, though.

I once got lost in my own house, I tried to call someone on the microwave thinking it was the telephone, and I sat watching static on the television, thinking it was Jeopardy. Harry was the one who told me about those little episodes; the scary thing was that I never remembered what happened. It was like having split personalities. I’d stopped all communication with the girls; I didn’t want them to see me.

I was scared I might get one of my confused moments while on the phone or video chatting. I knew if they found out I was getting worse, they would come back, and that could not happen. The only good news was that I no longer felt weak. It was because of the pills, and I could move around normally again. I’d even done some dancing in my spare time. I knew the doctor said to be careful but it was difficult to remember, and hard to do so. I didn’t really understand what I had to be careful about, now that I was in control of my own body again.

That morning, I sat at the kitchen counter, holding a bottle of water and tilting it left to right. Harry turned around from the stove with the pan of eggs and sausages that was my breakfast. I ignored him however, fascinated with the bottle. I kept watching the water rush to the end, curl up like a wave then crash down. “Lilah?” Harry asked, watching me with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm?” I looked up from my bottle.

“What are you doing?”

“Look at this.” I tilted the bottle for him.

“Fascinating.” Harry pushed my plate towards me. I sighed and stabbed the eggs, setting down my bottle.

After I ate, I didn’t do much for that day. There wasn’t really anything for me to do. I began to get fed up of seeing the same things over and over, the living room, the kitchen, my room. I spent most of my day in the library, reading.

That night, I woke up in the middle of the night, breathing heavily. I passed my hand over my forehead and realized it was hot and wet with sweat. My shirt clung to my skin and my entire body felt clammy. It’s too cold, I thought, I need warmth, it would stop me from sweating. I threw back my covers and padded over to the air condition remote which hung on its case on the wall.

I set it at the highest temperature and pulled out an extra comforter. My vision blurry, I stumbled to the windows and closed them, stopping the cold night air from coming in. As I pulled in the last window, the breeze blew and shut it with a loud bang.

I shuffled over to my bed and spread out the comforter. I lifted both the comforters up and went to sleep, pushing pillows over my covered body. Why am I still sweating so much? I covered myself up, I thought, confused. My door suddenly open and I looked up, dazed.

“Lilah, are you alright? I heard a bang,” Harry asked, staring at me buried under my pillows.

“That was the window. The AC,” I mumbled. “I’m sweating too much, it’s too cold.”

Harry lifted his hand in front of it and pulled back. “Lilah, it’s blowing hot air,” he said, walking over to me.

“See if it could go higher, it’s too cold. That’s why I’m sweating, isn’t it? Because it’s too cold,” I murmured, almost as though I was talking to myself.