She's Afraid to Love (Harry Styles)

Chapter 5: Dreams and Disasters

"C'mon curly lover boy we have a flight to catch up with." Liam said to Harry.

"Pfft. What is wrong with you guys." I said shaking my head. I stood up and was about to leave when Harry grabbed my hand, making me face him.

"Call me." He said before winking.

"Ew, dude no I can give you a bunch of numbers from our university if you want?" I said before sashaying away.

I grinned when I heard Niall patting Harry's back and laughing about how he got served.

The smile was still evident on my face as I entered my car. I don't know exactly why I'm still grinning after all that's happened within the past twenty-four hours which is abosolutly mental, that's a word to describe it.

I arrived home and just crawled up to my bed. I didn't know what else to do since Ashley is still recovering from her drunk state which a certain curly haired boy has caused.

Why can't I stop thinking about Harry? Everything I think about always leads up to him. Maybe it's his flirting getting to my head.

For some odd reason I find myself sitting in front of my computer searching about One Direction, more specifically Harry Styles. I quickly typed tumblr into the url bar knowing that you can find almost any if not all fandoms in that single site. If there is something I can credit to the directioners is that they do have a great talent in following the boys, knowing their blood types, house address and a couple more intimate information. It's kind of disturbing when I actually think about it yet so fascinating.

I ended up sitting on my swivel chair longer than expected and I caught myself looking at a bunch of stupid photos of Harry. If there is something that bothers me most about him if not his tattoos is definitely his hair. I guess this is what his signature style really is. When fans hear curly hair and a bunch of codswollop tattoos the first thing that comes into mind is Harry Styles.

I swear that hair of his has it's own life. I just can't understand it, as I am scrolling through his pictures. What is up with that hair man? I mean I don't know how he does that. I scroll through another photo and I just can't help but bash it again. His hair is bothering me, why can't he just style it normally?

After pondering on my recent comments on Harry, I realise that I might go bonkers if I don't stop it with the stalking thing, well I already am bonkers but let's not make it worse.

I sit on the edge of my bed and turn the telly on scanning through the channels. A bunch of random shows are on but none seem to interest me, I just left it on BBC One just so that there wouldn't be awkward silence in my room. I mean I just can't stand that.

I was staring at the telly watching how Sherlock is proving how Dr. Watson is so stupid because he doesn't think like how Sherlock thinks or what not, when I felt my head slowly tipping to the side and finally falling on my pillow.

***

I was standing alone in the darkness. I've never been afraid of the dark before, but this kind of darkness was empty. Like I had no other place to go. I started walking, and then running. Eyes started to appear from all different directions.

Blue eyes, the ones I never seem to forget. Bloodshot eyes.

"I'm sorry." Those words I kept hearing. Replaying, I'm not sure though if I can hear it or if it was all in my head.

Different voices started to come out from everywhere. The eyes around my changed colors, from grey, to brown, to green, to black. All of which were very familiar to me.

"No! Leave me alone." I covered my ears.

"You did this!"

"You can't run away Mikaela."