Mr. Styles meet Ms. Mermaid (Harry Styles: no.1)

Chapter 29

Lydia’s POV

I never thought of what it was like to be forgotten about. To not be talked to, to not be cared about.

My green eyes looked out over the winter covered forest that surrounded my home. The green leaves had fluttered to the ground, the time of year now being mid November. I never enjoyed the winter, the frigid cold air restricting me from swimming in the pond deep in the forest. My happiness, my escape from reality; or hell.

“Lydia, someone’s here to see you!” My mother’s voice shook me from my frozen stance.

For as long as I could remember, I would always look out my back window when I was conflicted or stressed. I had put myself in this spot every day for four months. Ever since I stepped foot in the house since the plane ride from LA, I would subconsciously find myself in this same spot, everyday.

“Lydia!” She called out for me again. I roll my eyes and they begin to sting from the new movement.

“God damn,” I mumble rubbing my eyes. I hated the effects I had after looking out for hours on end. It was always painful. I blink a few times, looking out at my room. It had barely changed since I left five months before.

My bed was a mess; my desk was cluttered with job applications and colleges wanting me to speak at presentations. Mother and I sat down after the trip and much to my displeasure, she’s making me take up some form of work.

She had suggested teaching at one of the local colleges, but I told you of how awkward it’d be teaching to people older than me. For once in my life, she saw it my way. But, that didn’t stop her from suggesting –more like forcing- other jobs.

I let out a quiet yawn, walking out of my room. I slowly walk down the stairs, looking around for who it might be behind the front door.

Lately and quite frequently, paparazzi have shown up at my doorstep. I would usually open the doors since my mother would be at work, and they’d bombard me with questions about Harry and I. Or rather, of what happened to Harry and I.

After the trip, Mother took my phone away, along with any form of technology. She said that she wanted to ‘cleanse my soul of all the pollution’ I faced in California. She said that she didn’t want me to be surrounded in all the bad things I faced, most importantly Harry.

“Who is it?” I whisper when I reach the landing.

“Go see,” she smirks at me, a haughty look in her eyes.

I scrunch my eyebrows, stepping towards the partially open door. I grab the handle, pulling it more open.

“Hey Beautiful,” a man with bright blue eyes smiles at me.

I pause looking at him. He barely aged a day since I last saw him. His messy brown hair was swept in different directions and the smile he held lit up stadiums. This was an allusion, a mirage. I wasn’t seeing him. He wasn’t really here. But, he was.