If I could fly {h.s} -

CHAPTER 27

@Hollyford27- thought that the lead character should be played by lilly Collins? please comment your opinions or any ideas! Someone offered to translate this book too! how cool is that!

I looked at Harry for reassurance, and thankfully he stepped in. 

" We met at a family party a few months back." He announced, placing his hand on my knee. I flinched. Nobody seemed to take notice of the tiny reaction but I could tell that Harry had. He glanced at me warily before removing his hand slowly off my leg.

The boys continued to tell us how they met their last girlfriend or 'sex partner' and it made me squirm. was Harry like this? what if im just one of those girls?

I couldn't bare the thought. So from then on, I zoned out of the conversation and began to let my eyes wander and my thoughts swirl. 

Many times I saw Harry make an effort to bring me back into the conversation but all I could manage was mere nod of my head or maybe even a one worded answer if he was lucky. The whole ball went this way. A part of me wanted Harry to ask me to dance so we could have some alone time, but he didn't. It was myself to blame. My behaviour only told Harry to leave me alone, not to ask me to dance with him. I was pushing him away and that was what I needed. He would only break my heart. A girl like me could never be with a guy like him. 

Sure, in fairy tales perhaps it would work but unfortunately for me, even in a socialist world, Segregation subconsciously takes place. I was in the middle of it. Harry pitied  me.  

I should never have told him what happened between me and my dad, as it was only a story that would make him feel obligated to treat me well. I was supposed to work for him but  somehow I wriggled my way out of being treated how I should have been. I was supposed to be a servant to the superior. I wasn't made to waltz around in lavish dresses on the arm of the most good looking bachelor in new York. I was made to steal. I was made to live with my dad. I was made in down-town new york in a one bedroom apartment. 

I knew that some people had to be poorly treated in this world so more people could appreciate what they have, but when you had a taste of wealth, it became  harder. 

It goes from I need, to I want. 

I don't need Harry, I want him.

 Do I? 

I want him because I know I can't have him.  

Even in the clutter of my thoughts the functioning part of my brain- the small part at that- couldn't explain the adrenaline that surged through my body when he touched me. It couldn't explain the uplifting feeling in my chest when he so much as looks at me, and it most definitely couldn't  explain the reason why I was in love with him. 

It can't be. Even though I had already confirmed it, he must not know. He must not know that he has my heart in the palm of his hand just like he has the attention of everyone in the room.  He was in control now. 

My attention was directed towards the curly haired boy, who stood like a man on the stage with a prepared birthday speech for his friend. The crowd all watched with a gaze of admiration towards him, fixated on every word that  moved through his lips with such purpose. 

I pushed my way through the crowd heading back towards the entrance, tears almost urging me to cry themselves. 

I headed back to the apartment with a heavy heart and began to pack my things one by one. It was only when a few minutes had gone by I had realised that I had only managed to get my bag out, as if my body was trying to slow my progress down and giving Harry more time to come home and stop me from going anywhere. 

I shook my head, telling myself I was being ridiculous before packing as quick as I could. I began to plan things in my head. I knew far better than to go back to Richards house, but New York was not my place to stay. There were too many socialites that could tell me that I could never EVER be with Harry styles. 

So, within a few minutes I took the most courageous step of my life. I had booked myself a flight, that would take me far away from Harry, and far away from my past. So far away that nothing could remind me of what I left behind in New York. 

Tears began to fall as more and more items filled my suitcase. By the time I was stepping out the door, my cheeks were flushed with redness and still coping with the steady rate of tears. 

Within three hours I was situated in seat 25B on a plane, trying to restart my life, recover from heartbreak and to get away from my dad. More importantly I wanted to stay away from Harry. 

I needed to move from where I was born, and take a bigger step. One that I promised myself I would never regret, even if it doesn't go to plan, because I needed to disappear. 

What better way to do that was to move from one country to another?

What better way to do that was to go to the other side of the pond?

What better way to do that, was to fly all the way to England?