𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑! | harry styles

𝐗𝐕𝐈

THE plane touches down in Boston and half an hour later, I'm being swept up into one of Sean's powerful embraces.

"Finally, you've been gone for a fucking month!" He squeezes me. A month. Four weeks away.

"I didn't expect to be staying that long, but I had to take care of some business."

"Well don't take my wife away from me again." He drops me and turns to Phoebe.

I have to pretend I'm reading a travel brochure because their reunion is so intense that I'm ashamed to watch it. People literally stop and stare at the giant man and his blonde wife, who don't even seem to be breathing. It's embarrassing.

"Can you guys stop?" I whisper.

"I'm sorry. I totally lost myself for a second." Phoebe backs away, winded and glassy-eyed.

Sean grabs our bags and we start towards the parking garage. It feels good to be back in Boston, a place I now consider home. It's August and the heat of summer is starting to give way to the warmth of fall. It's not blistering, but it's still better than Seattle where the days are always chilly.

Phoebe and Sean decided to stay the night and then take the train home the next morning. I haven't slept in my bed in so long and it feels heavenly.

Of course, as I'm lying against my pillows, I think about the gorgeous man who used to lay next to me. When I close my eyes, I smell him. It's intoxicating and maddening all at the same time. I can't have him. I will never have him again.

I don't cry anymore, but I don't think I'll ever be rid of Harry completely. How can I be? He was my first love. Phoebe has helped me to understand that it's a good thing we've gone our separate ways, but it still hurts.

The next morning, the first thing I do is call the museum. I'm surprised at how lenient they're being with me, but I think it has something to do with my father being Carl Wilson. His death was big news, so they know I'm busy with his company and shit. I just feel bad for leaving them high and dry.

When I tell this to my boss, she laughs a little and explains that my position is that of a volunteer, and I'm in no way pressured to work a full week if I can't. She says that taking time off is fine. I tell her that I want to at least work two days a week, and she agrees to the schedule.

I haven't had a chance to really research Carl's replacement, but I plan to in the coming days.

I go to the gym and they all seem happy to have me back in yoga class. It's been awhile so my body isn't as used to the workout as it normally would be, but I make it through without any battle scars.

I go grocery shopping to stock up my barren kitchen, and then spend the rest of the afternoon on the phone with Renee. We talk for five hours straight. I could have just told her that I was busy, but I want to talk. I need someone to listen.

I make myself a healthy salad for dinner and sit in front of the TV to watch a foreign movie.

As I sip my wine, I look around at my empty family room.

Is this what life holds for me? God, I'm so boring. I don't have many friends; I don't have a boyfriend, no job, no close family. What am I supposed to do until I die?

"You're so depressing. Stop it." I slap myself and get up from my place on the floor. "You're going out."

It's nine on a Saturday night. I'm twenty-two, so of course there's got to be something going on in this city that I can occupy myself with.

I pick the shortest dress out of my closet that I can find and a nice pair of heels. As I'm doing my hair and makeup, I call one of the girls from work. She and I aren't really friends, but we're cordial and she's always talking about going out on the weekends. Her name is Mandy, obviously a closeted stripper, and she's a grad student at Harvard so we're about the same age.