Switching Roles ll Harry Styles

chapter four

I thank the nurse one more time and head outside. None of the paparazzi know about this place, so I don't have to worry about cameras as I make my way toward the car. When I climb in, Harry is on his phone. I buckle my seatbelt and the car takes off, pulling onto the street.

After ten minutes of silence, I turn to Harry. "Thanks for bringing me to the hospital," I say. "You didn't have to."

"I know," Harry says, still looking at his phone.

"That's it?" I ask with a scoff.

"What more do you expect from a guy who only cares about himself and his career?" He asks looking at me in disappointment.

"You're seriously pissed because I said that? Trust me, I've said worse things about you before." I tell him with a chuckle.

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes.

"No," I say, "listen to me." My voice starts to rise.

"Can't, we're at my place." He says, opening the door. I chuckle angrily and follow him out the car. He turns around, obviously annoyed. "What are you doing?"

"Making you listen to me," I say. I walk up the front steps and look in the potted plant for the spare key. I unlock the door, and let myself in, nostalgia hitting me like a train. I take a deep breath and stop in the den.

"Okay," he sighs, "what?"

"You don't get to play the victim with me. You don't get to get offended or upset about me calling you selfish. You hurt me. You ruined me. I didn't leave my house for weeks because I couldn't stop crying. I was so heartbroken and you didn't even care." I say, trying to keep my voice down.

"You don't realize what you did to me do you?" I ask, tears stinging the back of my eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Harry says, his voice strained.

"I loved you. I gave you everything. I gave you my devotion, my love, my virginity." He looks away at the last one, and I walk over to him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Lauren, I don't want to hear this," he begs.

"I don't care. I've been bottling this up since that day. Do you remember that day, Harry? Where you showed up at my work, told me we were done, and then walked out? Because I do." I inform him.

"Harry, you are a complete and total asshole," I say, "and you don't get to be mad at me. You don't have the right to be hurt by me. I could get you fired, and you can't be mad at me. Harry, you left me. I was a seventeen year old girl unconditionally in love with you, and you didn't even care. Now I'm still seventeen, but I know better to trust you."

"I'm going to bed, you can sleep in the guest room." He says, his voice thick with emotion. A tear rolls down my cheek with the lack of caring in him. He's heartless. I nod, and as the tear falls off my cheek, I turn and leave the room.

The guest room hasn't changed at all. Memories come flashing back. I shut the door and images of Harry kissing me against it flash. I run my hand over the same gray duvet and images of that night where I gave him everything comes back. I go to the bathroom and see the white tub that once had candles all around it when I was stressed.

More tears fall down my cheeks as I notice that some of the stuff I left is still here. My toothbrush sits unmoved from the cup. I remember Harry coming up behind me and kissing my neck while I brushed my teeth. I always thought the guest room bed was comfortable than his bed, so I practically lived there, which means I got my own bathroom.

I go to the cabinet under the sink and grab the rubbing alcohol from the same spot. I get a washcloth and dampen it with the alcohol. I wipe my face, removing all the makeup. My face feels refreshed, and I pull my hair into away bun. I remove my jewelry and place it in my bag which I set on the counter. I walk back into my old room and go to the closet.

Pairs of leggings and nike shorts with bras and dresses stand unmoved from the hangers. I grab a tank top, some leggings and go to the bathroom. I unzip the dress, pull on the leggings and then pull the tank top over my head. I fold the dress and put it under my bag on the counter. I turn off the light, but stop short when I re-enter the bedroom.

One of Harry's t-shirts is now on the bed, folded neatly. I hold back a sob and climb onto the other side of the bed, and leave it there. I take a deep breath before clicking off the lamp and letting sleep overcome my senses.

~

When I wake up, confusion takes over me. I look around the unfamiliar room with a haze spread across my eyes. I rub them and look around again, noticing that I'm in Harry's house. I sigh and remember the events of last night. Of the confession I made to him. Of the t-shirt.

I glance at it now, unmoved from its position from the night before. I stretch and get out of the bed. I brush my teeth and hair, collect my bag and leave my dress on the bed. I pick up the t-shirt and hold it gingerly as I walk to Harry's room. I swing the door open and Harry jolts.

"What's wrong?" He asks, sleep making his voice raspy and rough. I vaguely remember the effect that voice had on me, but now I feel nothing. "Are you alright."

"Harry, we both know you don't care," I scoff. I throw the shirt at him and it hits him before falling limply to the ground. "You left this on my bed last night."

"I thought you would want I wear it," Harry says, sitting up.

"Well I don't know why you would think that," I say. "My dress is on my bed. Have it dry cleaned and brought back to me by the end of the week. It has blood on it."

"Oh," is all he says.

"I'm leaving now," I say, and I head back to the front door.

"Wait," I hear him call. I don't wait though, I just keep walking. The door is open just a crack when it is shut from behind me. I look to my left and see Harry's hand blocking my exit. I can feel his breath on my neck. His arm bends as he walks closer behind me. He sets his forehead on the back of my head, and I can't help but think if he has hair in his mouth. "Will you ever forgive me?" He whispers.

"No," I whisper, pulling the door back but making sure not to head butt him. "I'm sorry but I can't." I walk out and start to make my way back to my house.