inspirations // harry styles

chapter twelve // distractions.

Harry's POV

I lay in my bed, just staring up at the ceiling, knowing I have to drag myself out eventually. We have a production meeting all day with Simon and the other managers to discuss our upcoming tour and album release and pretty much plan out our entire year. Yet, there's still only one thing on my mind.

Olivia's my girlfriend.

Although this is all fake, it feels so real. She's definitely not my first girlfriend, but I can honestly say that the feeling deep in my gut is an entirely new one. Perhaps it's because I've never had so much depending on our relationship? Yeah, I bet that's it.

Last night as the lads and I were walking back to our car - which we had to park a while away so that the paparazzi wouldn't find out where Olivia lived - I couldn't stop talking about it. How perfectly that night had went, even with her parents coming home. I couldn't have asked for a better evening.

But Niall kept flashing that smug little smile of his at me. He still insists that I have actual feelings for Olivia. I'll let him believe what he wants if that means he'll stop crying about me hurting Olivia's feelings. I just can't wait to rub it in his face after I split with Olivia and everything's back to normal.

The thought of splitting up with Olivia has become more and more foggy. I used to be able to think about it without an inch of doubt. But now it's not so easy. I continue to picture her bastard of an ex-boyfriend, then I recall how much it broke my heart to see her in tears on her living room couch. If I knew I was the cause of those tears, I couldn't live with myself.

But what's more important? My entire career or some American girl I only just met?

"Hazza, are you awake?" My door opens and Lou whispers, cautiously. I merely let out a grunt, letting him know that I'm awake, but not functioning just yet.

Lou flips on my bedroom light and plops down on the bed beside me, already fully dressed and wide awake. I cover my eyes, unable to even open them with my light blinding me.

"We're leaving in fifteen," He breaks the news to me, which earns him another grunt, "Are you okay?" He asks, turning to face me.

Confused, I uncover my eyes to peer over at him. It's not very often that you see Louis wearing a serious expression, but there isn't an inch of humor on his face.

"Yeah, I'm great actually, why?" I ask, starting to adjust to the lights finally.

"Well, last night you were talking in your sleep and I could hear you tossing and turning all morning." He explains, a wrinkle of worry appearing on his forehead.

I couldn't deny the tossing and turning, that's for sure. I've been awake for awhile, mentally arguing with myself. But I was talking in my sleep?

"What was I saying?" I ask, just as curious as Louis was worried.

My phone rings on my nightstand - probably Liam making sure that I'm awake - but I ignore it, my curiosity getting the best of me. Louis looks up at my ceiling, avoiding my eyes, deep in thought.

"You kept talking about Olivia - which was no surprise," He starts with a shrug of his shoulders, "But then you kept shouting 'I'm not Tate!' and apologizing over and over again." He continues, making my stomach churn.

He turns to look at me once more, but now it's my time to stare at the ceiling to avoid his eyes. He watches me carefully, trying to read me like a book.

Not only were my thoughts obsessed with this whole 'Olivia-Inspiration' deal when I was awake, but she managed to wriggle her way into my unconscious thoughts. I can't help but to feel a bit of anger towards myself for letting her do that to me.