Don't Know Why

Chapter 8

Alanna...

Brian Cole.

Brian Cole, though most times could be comparable to a volcanic eruption – toxic and highly destructible – is considerably my safety net. But only because I've been highly accustomed to his explosions. I knew when to expect it. I knew how to react to it. I knew how to diffuse it, though admittedly, the third one's been much of a failure these recent years and mostly it's because of my irritation or my disappointment or maybe both.

Harry Styles.

Harry Styles was an enigma. To me, he was reminiscent of a perfectly wrapped present. One that would be enough to just stare at all day. But, inexplicably so, I felt that what lay inside would be equally as beautiful, if not more.

I like Harry Styles.

Yes.

I do.

It's not like a life-altering moment. But I did just admit to myself that I've been harboring some sort of crush to our school's one of – if not the most sought after heartthrob.

But unlike Brian, Harry was altogether a foreign territory to me. An unexplored terrain that's got this magnetic pull, possibly over everyone who's ever set eyes on it and casts a net to unsuspecting wanderers.

And just like that you're held captive with no certainty of ever making it out.

That said, he was dangerous, far more than an erupting volcano.

Normally I had better luck and skill in warding off such thoughts about him and there wasn't anything significant to the night either to trigger such reactions from me. In fact as I walked silently along the pavement, it's clearly noticeable that it's just like any other night in uptown Manchester – students and professionals alike clamoring in and out of pubs, the smokers trying to find a spot in designated areas. Inevitably, I pass by their den and this makes me fumble for my handkerchief.

Nope, definitely nothing special there, perhaps it was just the alcohol talking.

I feel the stares at my back as I strolled by. I didn't mean to be rude and I wasn't opposed to any of them smoking. I just didn't want their fumes to make room in my lungs.

I already have enough weed extracts as it is.

"Uptight slag!"

I rolled my eyes and just continued walking, not paying any heed to the obviously drunk blonde teetering in her four inches.

Of course, this could have all been avoided if I just stuck to my plan of calling an uber before the redhead with all the right curves came hassling on Harry out of nowhere.

I think her name was Racquel?

I remember her blatant sneer after she saw me and from there it wasn't difficult to assume she's one of the many women mesmerized by the handsome face of Harry Styles. Her insinuation wasn't lost on me either, if her body language still wasn't enough of a clear indication then her words were.

Apparently, she's already bedded him.

From what I've heard of our university's football captain, he's been single for most of his years in college. Either from his diligence in his studies or the lack of suitable candidates for him, no one was able to make certain.

But of course that didn't mean he doesn't sleep around.

I wonder how many there are?

I sighed, shaking my head as I decided to speed walk the remaining two minutes of my path to my townhouse. In not much time, I reach my destination, pocketing my handkerchief before slotting the key into the keyhole only to find out that the door's unlocked.