summer love ∞ h. s.

0.4

harry

Seeing her like that was. . .painful, to say the least. The beautiful green of her eyes was dulled and glassed over with tears. Her face was red and wet from crying. My heart broke at the sight.

But she was here. I was right; she was at the show. I'd scanned the crowd the entire night, searching for her, but I never did find her. Perhaps she was too far from the stage.

The show had been pretty painful for me. My singing was mediocre at best, and I was too distracted to do any ad lib. I didn't even bother talking to the audience like the boys did. I was just. . .out of it. Despite my best efforts, getting her off my mind proved impossible. I simply couldn't forget her eyes, her words, her walk. It was burned into the back of my mind.

But now, she looked completely different. Her mascara was running down her pale cheeks, her lipstick was faded, and she was shaking.

Mustering up my courage, I walked over to her. "What are you still doing here?"

She was looking up at me; I could see the pain in her eyes. Her gorgeous eyes. . . "I'm sorry. I'm–I'm sorry for what I said to you."

I didn't have time to respond before Liam spoke up, explaining the "shitstorm" on Twitter. When I opened the app on my phone, I saw it. Millions of "Directioners" outright attacking Jasmine Blake. They were brutal, to say the least. My chest tightened and my blood began to boil. How could they possibly be saying such terrible things about a girl they don't even know? Or really, about anyone? No wonder she was crying.

I told Liam to use my phone to send a tweet telling everyone to back off– and then, on instinct, I turned and embraced Jasmine. "Calm down, Jasmine. It's gonna be okay."

She felt so small and frail in my arms. I held her head with one hand; damn, her hair was soft. Like silk.

At first, she tensed up, probably surprised at my action, but after a few moments, she relaxed into my arms, leaning against me. Her shoulders shook with sobs, but they were muffled by my chest. I closed my eyes.

Holding her like this felt. . .right. Before, I'd been furious about the twitter situation, but now. . . Her presence seemed to soothe me.

"Jasmine?" A girl was shouting her name down the hall. When she rounded the corner, I recognized her from the restaurant. She was Jasmine's friend. She froze in place, shock taking over her rounded face. "Jasmine. . .?"

I let Jasmine out of our embrace, taking a step back.

∞

jasmine

I turned around, wiping my face of its tears. Mascara came off onto my hands, making me grimace.

"Oh, Jasmine!" Sierra exclaimed with relief. She started walking toward us, her black curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Thank God you're okay." When she reached us, she smiled at Harry. "Hi! I'm Sierra, Jasmine's friend."

"You're NotSierraMist on Twitter?" Liam asked. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

She nodded. "Yeah. I'm basically spamming that app trying to defend her. They're freaking brutal on there!"

I sniffled, wringing my hands together. So Sierra had seen the tweets as well. Of course she had. By now, everyone had. "I'm so sorry for all of this," I whispered.

"Don't be," Harry said, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Do you want to come back to our dressing room to clean up? The bathrooms probably smell horrid."

I turned, looking up at him. He was being so. . .nice. Like, way nicer than I ever would've expected. I always thought celebrities were superficial. But Harry seemed genuine now as he tried to comfort me. I felt something warm blossoming in my gut.

"Yeah," I replied eventually, my voice small and weak.

"I'll take Jasmine to the dressing room," he said to the others, moving his hand down to mine and interlocking our fingers, "and you lot can work on the Twitter crisis."

My hand was so small compared to his. It was delicate and soft, while his was strong and slightly calloused. It reminded me of the time when I had a boyfriend. That was two years ago, though, and the only hand I'd held since then was my neighbor's when I used to babysit him.

It didn't take long for Harry and I to reach the metal door labeled "DRESSING ROOM A." Inside, it was just mirrors and tables lining the walls, and a sofa on the right wall. Harry led me to the brown sofa, grabbing a box of tissues. "Do you want some makeup wipes?"

I nodded, clearing my throat. ". . .Thank you for this, Harry." I smiled briefly as he handed me a pack of Sephora makeup-removing wipes. "I don't deserve any of this." Sephora was known for being expensive, so I was glad to see how much makeup was coming off with a few swipes of one wipe. I cleaned under my eyes, my cheeks, around my mouth, and under my chin down to my neck. I knew my tears had travelled.

Harry sat on the couch beside me; his cologne smelled heavenly. "Don't say that." His voice was soft, gentle like he was scared of being too loud.

I tossed the wipes on the table beside me and turned to face him. I couldn't read his expression. Normally, that would make me uneasy, but here, with him, I felt perfectly at peace.

He sighed. "Listen, we're in town for another night. I can see you tomorrow, yeah? But you and your friend should get home. It's late."

I nodded. Sierra's parents would freak out if I didn't drop her off before 2. But why did he want to see me again? I was just some rude bitch he'd run into, some crazy chick who'd gotten tears all over his probably expensive button down shirt. I was just a girl, and he was Harry Styles. It didn't make any sense.

"Jasmine? If you give me your phone, I'll text myself so we can have each other's number."

Even though it all seemed impossible, I went with it. I handed him my phone out of my clutch, after unlocking it.

A few silent moments later, he handed it back. "Can I walk you and your friend to your car?"

I was having trouble processing all of this. He seemed genuinely concerned for my wellbeing, but how was that possible? I was nothing compared to him. Unable to speak, I simply nodded.

What a night.