Secrets

Trusting and Lies

Blaire's P.O.V.

A week ago I was some sad girl, walking around with a shattered heart. I was convincing myself I would never be repaired, never returning to my normal self.

Slowly, day by day, I saw a change. Yes, it made me happy to feel again, but what kept me going was Harry. Not only was I healing, he was as well. Maybe he didn't want to admit it aloud, but I could clearly read his thoughts.

It's amazing how one person, in less than a week, could walk into my life and change it for the better.

It's sort of a tradition now, meeting Harry at "our café", as he calls it. Cute, yes. Cheesy, absolutely.

Meet me at The Premises tomorrow morning. xx

It really didn't need to be said, I just wanted an excuse to text him. Quite ridiculous, I know.

Sure thing, love. Xx

Babe struck a nerve, Harry had observed I suppose, so he moved on to love. Every time he calls me that, over text or in person, it sends a wild blush over my face. I'm guessing it's the 'British-thing' as well, the way he says it that sends me into a total teenage fangirl mode.

Morning comes all too quickly, and before I know it I am on my way to the corner café.

It's a nice day out, yet something feels out of place. My stomach has an uneasy feeling, and everything feels almost too "picture perfect".

Of course, my mind is always trying to get the best of me.

I hear footsteps following quickly behind me, along with what sounds like flashing cameras.

I turn around, only to be bombarded by the paparazzi. It is very unusual for them to be out so early, especially this many.

"Blaire, Blaire! You and Styles, now?"

"How does it feel to be one of Harry's toys?"

"Do you have feelings for the womanizer?"

All of the questions about Harry and I come all too fast. I have no clue what they are talking about, and no clue as to how they found out.

I try to make my way through the growing crowd, only to be shoved into a newspaper stand.

HARRY STYLES ADDING TO HIS COLLECTION OF WOMEN?

There it is, the front and center magazine. Pictures of Harry at a bar accompanied by women clearly drunk are spread across the front cover. Several different women, to be exact. Along with those pictures are few shots of us at the café, and around town.

My head is spinning from all of the shouting, and my heart is aching from the article before me.

Why he was at the bar is a question I can't help but wonder. Not only that but why he was with the other women leaves me at a loss for words.

Sure, we aren't an "item", but is it so wrong of me to expect more from him?

The last thing I want to do is face him at the moment, I need time to think.

I try to reason with myself. Maybe he had a reason to be at the bar, maybe he was meeting one of his friends.

Then again, why would he rather be with the drunk girls than with me?

That alone hurts me enough to rip the magazine in half and rush back to my flat.

Trusting people will only lead to lies. Lies will only lead to excuses.

I was in no hurry to hear either of the two.