Behind the Scenes | Harry Styles

Chapter 7

Friday, January 1st, 2016

I called Tyler at least ten times before my calls started going directly to his voicemail. He either turned his phone off or blocked my number. Regardless of the reason, I reluctantly decided to stop calling him, so I dressed myself hastily and walked out of the room. 

I received a couple of stares from people as I made my way down the stairs. I was sure I looked like a mess. All the crying had completely ruined my makeup, my clothes were not properly aligned, and I carried my heels in one hand while my purse was in the other. I basically looked like the poster child of a typical walk of shame. 

Claire rushed towards me when I reached the foot of the stairs, a look of worry displayed across her face. 

"What happened to you?" she asked, taking in my appearance.

I shot her a dirty look before replying, "You're just adding insult to injury now." 

I continued making my way towards the exit, Claire following closely behind me. 

"Sorry. You just don't look very... Yourself. What's wrong?" she asked, her brows furrowing in worry as she practically jogged beside me in order to keep up. 

"I need to get the Hell out of here," I replied, pushing my way through the crowd. The loud music and strong scent of alcohol was giving me a headache and making me very nauseous. 

"How are you getting home?" she asked. I ignored her and kept walking.

When we finally reached the exit, I threw open the front door, and we both walked out into the night. There was no one else outside, so I took a seat on the steps leading up to the door and placed my face in my hands. The cool air slightly helped with the nausea, but I still felt as though I could throw up at any moment. 

I felt Claire take a seat beside me. She placed a tentative hand on my back and asked, "Do you want me to go get Tyler?"

Upon hearing his name, I felt tears starting to well up.

"No," I finally replied, "...We broke up." 

"Oh," was all she said. 

"He saw the texts you sent me - the ones about Harry. And he, of course, thought I was cheating on him, so he ended it. But not before humiliating me and breaking my fucking phone," I said, as I held my phone up with one hand to show her the shattered screen. 

"Oh," she replied once again, "Well, at least now you can be with Harry without leading Tyler on?" she added. 

I let out a cynical laugh. 

"I was never with Harry. Nor will I ever be. There's nothing going on between the two of us. I don't even fucking know him," I responded. "But there's no fucking way Tyler will believe me because everything's played out horribly. Everything's gone to shit since I've met Harry. And I've only fucking spoken to him like three times." 

Now that I thought about it, the contrast between Harry and I's night seemed kind of funny. Harry was probably having the time of his life on that stupid yacht with his hot, model girlfriend, while I was hundreds of miles away, completely shit-faced, crying about my ex-boyfriend to the girl who was at least partially responsible for ending my relationship. 

Claire was silent for a moment before asking, "Do you want me to call you a cab?" 

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Claire waited with me until the taxi arrived and even made sure I was properly buckled into my seat before making her way back to the party. She had come with her friends, so the DD in her group would be driving all of them home. 

I stewed in my own anger the entire cab-ride to my apartment. Through my drunken haze, I somehow came to the conclusion that everything that had happened with Tyler was Harry's fault. Sure, he wasn't even there when everything occurred, nor had I spoken to him in weeks, but it made complete sense to my drunk self. What can I say? Rationality isn't a drunk person's strong suit. 

This conclusion made me incredibly angry at Harry, and so I did the most spiteful thing I could think of at the time. I texted Gigi. 

1:35 AM: Tell Zayn I can be in his music video if the offer still stands.

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi dropped me off at my apartment complex. The walk to my actual apartment was a blur, but I managed to make it into my bedroom without any mishaps. 

I threw my purse on the nightstand before jumping into bed, still fully dressed. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. As upset and angry as I still felt, exhaustion was overcoming me and all I wanted to do was go to sleep. 

Right as I was falling asleep, my phone vibrated on the bedside table next to me. It was probably a reply from Gigi, so I figured I'd ignore it for now so I could attempt to sleep; the night's events had completely drained me. When my phone vibrated a second time, I decided to check my phone, since a small part of me was hoping it was Tyler trying to get back together. 

I let out a harsh laugh when I saw who my latest message was from. 

Harry 1:53 AM: Happy New Year's! Hope you're doing well. 

I couldn't deny that his timing was impeccable. I texted Harry back with a simple "Right back at ya," even though 2016 was shaping out to be pretty shitty from the looks of it. 

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A/N: I figured I might as well give y'all a short chapter now when I have time since I might not be able to update until after Memorial Day. :-( Good luck to everyone getting ready for finals, and please don't forget to vote and/or comment! :-)

-martha