Trust

Chapter 3

*Beep*

Must be Jake. I turn over to reach for my phone to read his message.

Harry: I'll pick you up at 2 so you can sleep in. We're going for coffee. x

So yesterday wasn't a dream? Jake is actually Harry? Or Harry is actually Jake? Thinking about all of this gives me an instant headache so coffee sounds lovely. I have an hour until Harry gets here so I head to the bathroom to get ready. After taking a shower I put my dark brown hair into a high ponytail and do my makeup. Then I pull on a pair of jeans, a purple tank top and a creme colored cardigan, and slip into my favorite knee high boots. I go downstairs to wait for Harry to get here.

Ten minutes  later I hear a knock on the door. When I open it, Harry stands before me in a long blue coat, black skinny jeans, and black boots. The smile on his face makes my heart flutter. For a moment I think my knees are going to give out below me. What is going on? Why am I feeling this way?

"Hey," he says.

"Hi," I give him a warm smile.

"Right this way," He says leading me to the car.

When we get to the cafe, there's paps and fans waiting outside. After Harry takes pictures with a couple of fans and the paparazzi snap some pictures of Harry and I, we make our way into the little coffe shop. We sit down at a small booth in the back and order our drinks.

"Our first picture together will be all over the internet within a couple of hours," Harry laughs, amusement clear in his eyes.

"I can see the headlines now 'Harry Styles and mystery girl go for coffee! Wedding dates to be determined!'," we both laugh.

We sit at the booth for hours, talking about anything and everything just like we always have. The conversations vary between music, to what we're doing next week, to the difference between American and British politics.

He's not Jake, he's Harry. He's real and he's in front of me and as much as my head tries to tell me I need to step back and think about this situation, my heart won't let me. I know I need to tell Harry the truth about my age before it inevitably blows up in my face because I know he'll find out eventually, and it should be from me. But there's something about the way his eyes sparkle when he talks about something he's passionate about, or the way his lips form different words, or the way he pushes his curls out of his face, or the way he rubs his hand against the back of his neck when he's thinking or nervous, or the way my hands seem to fit perfectly in his, that won't let me tell him. I know I have to, but I can't.

It's 8pm when we finally decide to leave. Five hours just flew by and I guess it's because I'm so comfortable with him. He places a hand on the small of my back as he walks me out to the car, the familiar songs beginning to play once he starts it.

"Where to next?" he asks me.

"I'm actually kind of tired," I tell him.

"So, back to your place?" he grins.

"Sure," I respond. What? Did Harry just invite himself over to my house?

"Will your mom be there?" he asks me.

"No, it's Saturday, she works late," I explain. He nods his head, realizing he already knew the answer to that question, knowing about all the countless Saturday nights I've spent at home alone.

___

"What movie do you want to watch?" Harry calls out to me from my bedroom.

'It's up to you!" I reply from the bathroom. Harry Styles is lying in my bed right now. Why am I freaking out? He's my best friend. At least, the person who Harry was pretending to be is. But he wasn't exactly pretending to "be" anybody right? He was himself. Just not.. himself. I used to have feelings for this guy. But now that it's Harry, it's a totally different feeling. Not just because of who he is, but how he makes me feel. The butterflies and the nerves that he gives me make me question the way I see him.

The realization that I talked to "Jake" about my "love for Harry Styles" a thousand times starts to sink in and embarrassment floods through me. Harry knows I have a crush on him. But it's just a crush, I shouldn't worry. My headache from this morning is back and I gather up all the courage I have to walk back into my bedroom.

"I put in Spiderman," he tell me. The familiar beginning of the movie playing from the tv opposite my bed. I climb into bed, sitting up against the head rest like Harry. After a long silence he says, "you know, I was bit by a spider once." A smirk playing on his lips.

I laugh and he nudges my arm with his elbow. "What am I going to do when your mom comes home?" He asks me.

"Jump out the window I guess."

"I can see the headlines now 'Harry Styles jumps out of mystery girl's window at two in the morning!' I'm sure that'll help my womanizer reputation."

I look at him and smile. About halfway through the movie I slide down to get comfortable. I eventually fall asleep facing away from Harry, not realizing that he's still there. When I wake up, the credits are rolling and I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist. My heart immediately starts to do that familiar flutter that seems to only happen then I'm with him, and I think he notices because he speaks up.

"Lia? You awake?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you," he mumbles into my hair.

"For what? Being awake?" I ask as I turn around to face him.

"No, for being there for me this past year. I think I would've gone insane if it weren't for you. You've shown me that someone can truly love me for who I am, not because of how much money I have or for who the media makes me out to be,"

Love?

"And I mean that in the most platonic way possible, of course..." he adds, his voice trailing off.

Platonic?

I look up at Harry, not knowing how to respond, so I cuddle in closer to him and he holds me tighter. His soft curls brush the top of my head and he leans down to place a soft, almost ghostly, kiss on my forehead. The scent of vanilla and fresh laundry, his scent, fills my senses, easing me to sleep.

Platonic?

What if I don't want just "platonic" with Harry?