Stalker Styles (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 50

"Wait, wait. So my dress is mint green or orange?" I ask Stevie over the phone. I lazily pick at my nails as I sit on my bed, in my new apartment. It's been exactly one month since the break up with Harry, and I honestly haven't gotten much better. I can go days without crying, but there has yet to be a day that he doesn't cross my mind. According to the tabloids, he's busy touring, and One Direction is getting bigger and bigger everyday. I wish I could say that I've kept in contact with any of the boys, but I haven't. I enrolled back into college, and started classes two days after Alana came and saw me. It was hectic to get all moved in before I started classes, but Stevie and her fiance came and helped me.

"It'ss mint green, but your shoes and jewelry with be a light orange." She tells me. She's been freaking out the past few days, because her wedding is in four days. My mother has called me a few times, to let me know the arrangements of the wedding. I have to be a bridesmaid- which isn't bad -along with some of Stevie's friends from high school.

"Is my mom still going crazy?" I ask, leaning my head back onto the pillow. I stare at the plain ceiling, wishing I was anywhere but here. I go home tomorrow, but it seems like it's taking forever. I got an apartment alone this time, so I wouldn't have to worry about roommates. Don't get me wrong, roommates are cool, but last time was a disaster.

"Oh yeah. Definitely." She says. "I'm surprised her head hasn't exploded yet." She says and I laugh. My mom has been calling me non stop the past two days, wondering when I'm coming home, if I'm going to bring friends with me, what dinner do I want the night I get home, etc. It's probably the most she's called me in my entire life. I knows she's been worried about me, since the breakup. When I told her I was going back to college, she freaked out. She wanted me to wait until after the wedding, but I insisted on coming now. The school year ends tomorrow, but I'm staying and taking summer classes, so I can catch up on my degree. I don't have any classes tomorrow, only the one left today and them I'm done until after i get back from the wedding.

"I figured. That's how she always is." I say, taking my phone from my ear to see the time. "I've got to get to class." I tell Stevie. We exchange farewells and hang up. I sigh and stand up off the bed, running my fingers through my hair. I step over the many clothes on my floor, picking up a grey sweatshirt representing my high school basketball team, and throw it on. I slip on my Vans and hurry to the bathroom, fixing my makeup so I don't look like part of the undead. Once I'm finished I grab my books and my phone and hurry out the door.

I see other students coming out of their apartments, probably hurrying to get to class like I am. I hurriedly run down the stairs and onto the sidewalk, where I soon step onto campus. I have ten minutes to get to class, and the building is about five minutes away. I try to hurry up my pace, so I can get a good seat in the classroom.  For some reason I have to take journalism, even though my degree has nothing to do with journalism.

Once I finally reach the building, I hurry inside. When I step into the classroom I see that many other students have already arrived. I take a seat next to a red headed girl, with her face hidden in a book. She doesn't look up when I sit down, only keeps turning pages in her book. I watch as she intently reads, as if her life depends on it. I'm about to ask what book she's reading, when the teacher starts talking.

"Today's lesson is going to be different from the others." She says. The teacher of this class is young, maybe a few years older than me, but she knows her stuff. Her long blonde hair is twisted into a bun on top of her head, and she's wearing a cardigan and brown boots. She could pass as a college student if she wanted to. "I want you all to write about a time someone's words or actions has hurt you. I want you to write about how those words or actions affected you, and then I want you to write something good that came out of those words or actions." She says and then her eyes drift to me.