Freeing Harry Styles

Chapter Two

I woke up to the sun streaming into my room and a very hollow feeling in my abdomen. Yesterday’s activities crept back into my mind, and I turned my head to the right, making sure I hadn’t dreamt everything. Harry Styles was sleeping soundlessly beside me, in my room, in my small, good for nothing town. This is actually happening, holy shit. I took in how young and vulnerable he looked when he was asleep. I sighed while getting up to stretch, looking around my room. I walked over to my Larry Stylinson poster and ran my hand over it subconsciously; it was habit. Realizing that seeing pictures of One Direction and Louis would only hurt Harry even more, I spent a good ten minutes taking down every poster and anything related to One Direction, being careful not to disturb Harry. The only one left was the one on my ceiling, right above where I slept. Getting that should go well. NOT. I crawled back onto my bed, and cautiously stood up on my tiptoes, reaching for the poster. Too late, I realized I had jostled the bed, just being able to grab the poster before tumbling to the ground with a very painful THUD.

I tried to sit up, but the overwhelming dizziness in my head was fighting the idea. I lay still, trying to check for injuries. My collarbone was hurting like a bitch and my head was aching. I attempted to push off the ground with my arms, but hissed at the agony in my collarbone. I cradled my arm to my chest, and got up with my hand gripping my desk that sat beside my bed. I snuck a glance at Harry, whom hadn’t even stirred in my fall. I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding as I placed all the posters deep inside my closet.

I walked through my doorway, heading downstairs to make some breakfast for Harry and me. I found no breakfast food, so I made my way grudgingly up the stairs and back to my room in search of clean clothes. I opened the door to my closet and began the mission of looking acceptable to the public- which for your information is not easy. I decided on a pair of faded high-waist shorts matched with a white v-neck and my black vans. I grabbed a fresh bra and knickers, and then made my way to the bathroom. I silently closed the door, and changed into my fresh clothes, sighing as the cool fabric rested against my heated body. The shirt and bra were both extremely difficult to manoeuvre on and off, but I managed with only a few gasps and hisses. I really needed to get that checked out.

I opened the door once I was dressed, in case Harry woke up and got confused as to where he was. I reached for my makeup bag, getting out my facial cleanser, mascara, eyeliner, and concealer. I briskly cleaned my face, and efficiently applied my makeup. I stepped back from the mirror and started the chore of making my hair presentable. My waist-length golden-blonde locks were frizzy from sleep. I quickly straightened them to perfection, smiling at my reflection. I looked pretty. I’m not self-absorbed, but I do know guys find me attractive, and that girls want to look like me- but I don’t let it go to my head. Satisfied with myself, I strolled back to my room, walking over to my desk and picking up a pen and some stationary.

Harry,

I’ve just gone out to get us some breakfast. I’m getting us Tim Horton’s and I will be back before

 I glanced at the clock, shocked that it was barely 7:10 am.

7:45. I hope you had a relaxing sleep and I’ll see you soon!

-Kayla

I left the note on the bed beside him then skipped out of my room, and cautiously made my way down the stairs, holding the railing firmly with my uninjured right arm. I walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a ten dollar bill and my cell phone. Placing them in my pocket, I opened the door and took a deep breath of fresh air before walking outside and closing the door quietly behind me. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked my messages. I had 25 from my best friend Ariel. Chuckling, I skimmed through them. The first 23 were about Harry running away and the big scandal and whatnot, and the last two were her being scared because I hadn’t replied. But given the circumstances, there really wasn’t an explanation for me to give her.