Wide Eyed (A Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Lily’s P.O.V.

The sun rays shone through the windows. It was finally Saturday. Yesterday during my free period, I heard someone in my bathroom. By the time I worked up the courage to see who it was, it was already time for my next class.

*ring, ring*

One missed call from Harry. I opened my voicemail and Harry was asking if I wanted to go with him to the carnival tonight. Knowing I didn’t have any better plans, I texted him I would come. I wonder what made him change his mind to hang out with me.

(Later that day)

I was ready to go when Harry called me and said he was outside. Since Harry had no car, we rode the bus. When we got to the carnival, and rode some ride, I told Harry about what happened yesterday.

“During my free period, I went back to my dorm and I heard water running from my bathroom.”

“I thought you had your own room?’ Harry asked.

“I do. But I was thinking maybe that Erin girl showed up.’

Again when I mentioned her name, Harry’s face went blank.

“It wasn’t Erin.” he said.

“How do you know?’

“I know Erin. Well, I used to. She’s not going to come... ever.”

He was looking down and twiddling his thumb. I knew something about Erin was important to him and it made him sad.

“The Ferris wheel line isn't long. Do you want to ride with me?’ I asked.

His face perked up and we got in line. After about 20 minutes of waiting, we boarded the ride. Moments later, we were stopped at the top. You could see the Tailor Bridge. It was what our city was most proud of. Everyone that visited here, wanted to see the bridge first. It was like our version of one of the 7 Wonders of the World.

“I have plans for that bridge.” Harry said smiling.

I mean who wouldn’t? It was magnificent. My plan was to take a lot of picture of the bridge, and make a word out of it. I have about 1000 pictures of it now. Whenever I see it at night I take a picture. I want to have around 1500 to 2000 of it, so when I decide on what word I'm using, I will have enough.

I noticed that Harry and I weren’t talking to each other.

“I have a dare for you.” I said

“What is it?”

“I dare you to put your hands up.”

He did as I asked. When he raised his arms, the sleeves of his shirt moved down. I saw stripes plastered across his wrists. The lines that were cut into his skin were almost perfectly straight. He put time into them, as if he wanted to feel every inch of pain they caused him. As if the pain from the cut, was less painful than whatever was on his mind. As if physical pain, felt better than the emotional pain, and mental pain he was feeling.

The ride conductor unbuckled our seat belts, and we got out of the car. As we walked along, nearing the exit of the park, I worked up the courage to ask Harry about his scars.

“Harry…” “What happened to your wrists?”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw your scars when you lifted up your arms.”

He looked down at his feet in a shameful way, and pulled his sleeve down to cover his hands.

“What happened?”