The Maid For Styles

Chapter 67

A/N: I didn't realise this went private last night, ugh, but I edited it so that it looks cleaner or some shit. PLEASE REPEAT WHATEVER YOU DID BEFORE AND YEAH. PLEASE. I LOVE YOU.

Chloe's POV

Renee had been the only person who'd managed to convince me I was exaggerating the situation. Having been locked away in my bedroom with a phone pressed to my ear for slightly over an hour, she was able to reason with me, and quite frankly, knock some sense into me. It sounded terrible, really, that a friend was able to persuade me more than my own boyfriend could, but I needed advice from someone else who I was completely sure wouldn't feed me the words I only wanted to hear. Renee told me the absolute truth and spoken her opinion loud and clear, proving to me that I had certainly been overanalysing the situation.

"He stares at you in a way that shows the utmost love, Chloe, I've seen it, and that genuinely proves he wouldn't lie to you. How can you lie about something that critical when you love someone as much as he loves you?"

Those were the exact words that had hit me hard. They'd shaken me to the core and instantly made me feel guilty for underestimating Harry. Explaining to Renee the reactions Harry had made to my questions and the way he seemed to stiffen in complete apprehension, didn't make her question her opinion. She was one hundred percent sure that he wouldn't do that-not to me, anyway.

Hanging up the phone after our profound chat, I felt as though the weight on my shoulders had lifted, and I was able to go about the remainder of my day absolutely carefree. Yeah, the guilt I had for misjudging Harry was still simmering in the pit of my stomach, but I didn't have the crushing fear swallowing me whole, annihilating my insides to the point where I felt physically sick. I felt better. I felt okay.

I trudged down the stairs, a small smile appearing on my face when I found Harry leaning against the couch, staring at the ceiling. He looked lost in his thoughts as his index finger and thumb pinched his bottom lip, and his eyes squinted has they stared at the roof that held our complex up.

"What are you thinking about?" I asked, wittily.

Harry's gaze immediately averted to me, a smile forming on his lips. He straightened his posture and without delay, his hands were on my hips when I found myself standing in front of him.

"Nothing," he grinned down at me. "I was just waiting for you. You were gone for an awfully long time."

I laughed lightly, reaching up to wrap a curl of his around my pointer finger, loving the increasingly growing length of his hair. "I know, sorry. I was talking to Renee."

"What could you two possibly have to talk about for over an hour?" He teased, pulling me closer, just as he usually did after the first few minutes of our conversations had commenced.

"Just girl stuff," I told him, not exactly feeling as though I should've told him the complete truth.

"Just girl stuff?" He mocked me lowly, leaning down so that our noses brushed in a way that sent the pleasant chills up my spine.

"Yep." My finger unravelled the curl, letting it bounce back into place, almost at the bottom of his neck, before my entire hand moved to the back of his head, my digits tangling themselves in his thick, messy strands.

"You could always talk about your girl stuff with me," Harry spoke softly, the tips of his fingers slipping under my shirt, rubbing the small of my back with a sooting approach.

I laughed lightly, leaning back to kiss his nose. "Babe, it's called 'girl stuff' for a reason."

"I could be a girl," Harry witted, his fingers neither slowing nor quickening their relaxing conduct.