Wish You Were Here - Part 3

Chapter 8

OLIVIA'S POV

After Bec left yesterday I decided to take matters into my own hands and I spent an exorbitant amount of money on new clothes and ridiculously priced lingerie. I signed up for crack-of-bloody-dawn pilates classes and bought all the fitness clothes to go with it.

I've spent the last four hours this morning sitting in a hair salon turning my chocolate locks blonder, nothing too crazy but significantly lighter. They tried to make me go platinum blonde but of course I chickened out at the last second.

If he wants slutty, fit blondes then that's what I'll give him. I'm not going down without a fight and if this is what it takes to keep him, to fix our chemistry issue, to get him to want me again and reduce the temptation of other women, then so be it.

This has to be the issue and I need to change it.

I can't lose him.

"Where are you going?" He grumbled early this morning, his face buried in his pillow but not caring enough to actually turn and look at me.

"Pilates," I said matter of factly and this got his attention.

"What? Since when? You hate working out," he croaked in his deliciously raspy morning voice with one eye closed as he squinted at me with the other.

I debated telling him that I'm trying to look better for him, to feel more confident in myself and get back to the place where he wanted to rip my clothes off at every opportunity but instead I just shrugged.

I secretly hoped he'd pull me back into bed, nuzzle his nose into my neck and complain about the bed being cold without me but he didn't. Maybe after I make all these changes he will?

Apparently, his ability to know what I'm feeling is also fading as he gave up on any further questioning and crashed his head back onto his pillow.

I considered calling him after pilates class, which incidentally, was the most awkward, humiliating and exhausting hour of my life, to tell him that I would be at the salon for a while but decided against it. He'll call... if he even realises I'm gone for so long.

I rush through our front door with my new light hair, no more than a text on my phone from Harry an hour ago saying, *Remember lunch today. 1pm*.

There's no sight of him as I run into the bedroom, quickly showering and changing into one of my new outfits. I'm already regretting this hair and how I look.

I hate it and I'm dreading the comments on the change and the attention of everyone looking at lunch. I'm worried Harry won't like it and it'll make things even worse. I guess I can always dye it back tomorrow.

Wonder how much abuse on social media I will get? Probably a little more than normal?

My reflection in the full length mirror in front of me has me shaking my head and I wonder what the hell I am doing. I don't even look like me. My hair is light and in tousled curls, my low cut v-neck dress is tight and olive green in colour. I can't deny it shows off every curve, the bottom hugging my hips and arse leaving little to the imagination. A far cry from my normal jeans and t-shirt, cute flowy dress or denim shorts. Who do I think I am?

Just as I am about to change I hear the door slam and Harry yelling down the hallway.

"Liv, you here, love? Gotta go now if we wanna be on time!" He warns. Most fucking punctual musician of all time.

"m'Coming!" I scream back and step into my heels and fluff my hair up a bit more, too late to go back now.

I grab my new silky trench coat from the closet and make my way down the hall. Harry is in his tight jeans and a black wool coat, typing on his phone and doesn't even look up as I make eye contact with the floor, already humiliated by whatever his reaction is going to be.

I scoot past him in a hurry and squeal as I feel his arms wrap around my waist and swing me around away from the front door.

"Whooaaa! Wait a second, Toots. You coloured your hair?" He questions the obvious as he runs a hand through it like he isn't sure if he is dreaming.

"mhm," I try and deject the attention away from it and head for the door again but his grip stops me.

"You look...different," he says and I can feel my heart deflating.

He holds his arms out a little as he takes in my dress, "You wearing this to lunch?" he asks comically as if I'm playing a practical joke on him and my confidence falls flat onto the floor.

"Yep," I say softly, trying to hide the hurt in my voice.

Before I can tell what's happening he lifts me up, one arm wrapped tight around my straight legs below my butt and my hands land onto his shoulders to stop myself from falling forward.

"Harry!" I screech but he is walking with too much purpose to stop him until he drops me gently onto the marble kitchen counter top.

"Tell me," he demands as his finger and thumb hold my chin up to him so he can see the truth in my eyes.

"There's nothing to tell, I went shopping," I lie and shrug again for effect.

"Miss Bailey, blonde or not, you're the most practical, sensible, level headed person I've ever fucking met and you're trying to tell me you're going out in this tiny dress when it's on the verge of snowing out?" He raises an eyebrow at me as if he can see straight through my bullshit.

My heart drops into my stomach at his use of my maiden name and I'm sure the pain is written all over my face.

"It's Mrs Styles," I correct him in a tone that's on the borderline of a question. "And yes I am. You-You don't think I look cute?" I ask pathetically, my ego desperate for anything to lift it off the ocean floor.

"I do... Mrs Styles," he punctuates my name, biting the corner of his lips as a way of hiding the smirk creeping up them. "But I also happen to think you look just as cute in jeans and boots with fluffy woollen socks and a huge, duvet sized, coat on."

I hear what he is saying but I don't believe him, I know it sounds incredibly needy but I have to do this in order for him to see me again, stop him from falling out of love with me, or fix whatever the fuck is the issue is with us these days.

"Well, I'm wearing this," I tell him and watch his face fall into a frown.

"Olivia, you're not going out in that! It's fucking freezing outside, you'll get sick!"

I can see the frustration bubbling up inside him and showing on his face. Doesn't he want me to change the way I look too? To help us get back to what we were? Doesn't he want to repair us?

"Tell me, Liv, please, I need to you tell me what you're thinking, darling," he begs this time, his eyes darting all over my face as he tries to decipher my thoughts and feelings.

I'm on the verge of tears and I'm about to tell him that I have no clue how to fucking impress him anymore, or captivate him, or turn him on or hell even make him remember I'm in the same goddamn building as him. But I don't. I need to try harder before there's no turning back.

Instead, I calm my resolve and plant a sweet smile on my face and kiss his lips briefly.

"I'll be fine, Harry."

His brows furrow at my uncharacteristic fake-ness and I hop down off the counter and past him to the door.

A/N:

Just when you thought her stubbornness had gone :P

But Harry has made her feel like this right?

Wanna know all your thoughts!

PLEASE REMEMBER TO VOTE

Love Ruby

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