Artwork [h.s]

six

I stepped away from the window with a sigh. Why had I said such a thing? 

I shook my head at my stupidity and exited the studio, the camera in my hand, to hide away into my room. I groaned as the realisation that I had to say sorry came to me, and I sat on the edge of my bed. I wasn't made for interacting with people, especially ones like Harry Styles. He was just so... Harry, and I wasn't funny, or special, or interesting. I was just me. To be honest, the thought of having to talk to him was terrifying. What could I have said to him, anyway? That I had a tendency to say idiotic things when I was overwhelmed? That was no way to go for sure.

I lay down on the bed, deciding to momentarily forget about the disaster and check the pictures I had taken instead. They were all pretty good, the sunlight complimenting his complexion wonderfully and making the soft brown of his hair shine of golden highlights, but only one stood among the others in beauty. It was the first I had taken, his curious glance directed outside of the window, making the forest green of his eyes clearer in the light. It was the only one that looked genuine. All the other ones looked fake. The way he held his chin up proudly, the confident look in his eyes, everything in there looked artificial. As if it was just a pose.

I had chosen the picture, but I didn't feel like drawing. I lay on my back staring at the ceiling. I so had to say I was sorry. I already dreaded the day that would come.

My phone rang, startling me, and I scrambled to get to it to make the loud sound stop as soon as possible. I was never a fan of loud sounds in the middle of peace and quiet.

I rolled my eyes as soon as I saw the name on the screen. Ella. I honestly didn't want to talk to her in that moment, since she would've realised that something had happened right away, but I also knew that if I hadn't taken the call she would've known I was ignoring.

"Hey" I said, picking up the call and hoping I didn't sound as pathetic as I thought I did.

"Uh oh, what happened?" She asked right away. Of course. I knew it would've happened.

"Nothing" I replied, realising just a second too late that my answer had come way too fast to be considered genuine.

"I know you're lying. I'm not stupid."

I sighed again, sitting up on the bed and bringing my knees to my chest. "I fucked up."

"Wow, is it just me or you've been saying that a lot recently?" She said, fake surprise in her voice. "Is it about the wonderful Harry Styles again?"

"Yeah" I replied, "I said something very inappropriate."

"What, did you ask him to fuck you? That's inappropriate."

"Not that inappropriate" I commented, a hint of stress in my voice.

"Did you ask him if he has a girlfriend then?"

I sighed. "No, I asked him if he was gay."

"Oh" she replied, surprised. "And what did he do? Shake his head in disapproval?"

"He said that his sexuality is none of my business and left my house."

She let out a weird sound. "Hang on, Harry Styles was at your house?"

"Always for that drawing thing, you know."

"Of course" she said. "You know what pisses me off about you? Any girl would love to be in your situation. And you don't even try anything with him!"

I frowned. "Why would I try something with him?"

"I don't know, because he's hot maybe?"

"You told me he's a prick like, not even two weeks ago."

"Who cares if he's a prick, he's hot and popular" she hissed into my ear, "and you honestly should start embracing the opportunities you're given."

"Alright" I replied, annoyed by her words. "My mum is calling me, gotta go." I closed the call before she could say anything else, tossing my phone on the bed next to me.

I really didn't understand Ella, sometimes. What's the catch in going out with someone just because they have a pretty face? Wouldn't it be a bit invalidating for both me and them, as people? We both were so much more than that. At least, that's what I hoped.

I heard the front door open, and I realised that my mum must've come home. The light outside my window started to decrease, making me wonder what time it could've been. I looked at the grey alarm clock on my nightstand, discovering that it was a little past six. I got up from the bed and tiptoed down the stairs to the ground floor.

"Hey mum" I said looking inside the kitchen, where I found her putting away the food she had just bought.

"Hey darling, have you had a good day?" She asked, too busy to look at me.

"Kind of, and you?"

"I did. Can you bring this to the bathroom?" She asked as she passed me a bottle of shampoo.

"Sure" I replied, taking it. "So is dad coming home tomorrow?"

"The day after tomorrow! He has to fix something last minute."

"Alright" I replied, leaving the room and making my way up the stairs.

My dad was often away because of work, but his travels never lasted more than a week. It would've still been nice to have him back home for a while, though.

I put the shampoo bottle inside the cabinet, glancing at the window just to notice that the sky had become dark. It would've been better to close the shutters of all the windows, so that the cold wouldn't have got in.

I closed the ones of the bathroom before exiting and entering my bedroom, closing those ones too. Next, I went into the studio, cringing at the remembrance of what had happened that afternoon, and turned on the light before making my way to the window on the opposite side of the door. I closed the shutters of that one and of the one next to it. I turned around and closed the third - and last - window.

As I was about to walk to the door, I noticed a spot of dark in the faint coloured room. There was something on the chair right in front of the wooden desk. It didn't take me long to figure out what it was, the memory of the afternoon still fresh in my mind. It was Harry's jacket. He'd probably forgotten it there in his eagerness to leave my house.

I sighed. One more reason why I would've had to talk to him again. And, worst of all, all my hopes of putting off the talk for a few days had faded into nothing, because I had his jacket, and he had probably already noticed it was missing. Meaning that it was my duty to return it as soon as possible, which meant the day after.

I took the black jacket, the fabric smooth under my fingertips, and left the room, closing the door behind me. I walked into my bedroom and took my bag, before folding the jacket carefully and put it inside.

It would've been one hell of a day, I could already feel it.