FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

FORTY-FOUR.

NOVEMBER, 2019. CONT.

Not a wink of sleep and I could care less.

After my breakdown at Blair's, she finally got me to sit down for a second and breathe. When I managed to, I explained everything. From Paris, to coming back, to Grace, to Halloween, to now.

Blair soaked it all in and tried to find anything to say to make me feel better. But no matter what she said, it didn't.

She told me it wasn't Harry's fault Grace got pregnant (to an extent). She told me I was digging a bit too deep with the whole theory that he had feelings for her. She told me Harry was wrong for not calling and letting Grace tend to him instead.

And finally, she told me that if I can't be there to handle Harry's life, I might as well let it go now before the baby becomes involved and things get worse.

Shamefully, I got pissed. I told her it was just a stupid fight that we'd get over. Another bump in the road. That we'd be okay.

Even I couldn't believe my own words.

I went home after that. I didn't want to be around her and I know deep down I just couldn't handle what she was telling me.

It had only been two days since then. I've isolated myself from everyone. Even my parents who don't deserve it but if they ask I'll end up breaking down again and they'll find out and get their hopes up and assume Harry and I are gonna get married and have babies.

How can I tell them that I don't even know if that'll ever happen?

He called. He texted. He left voicemails.

I don't answer because I'm afraid if I do, it'll be our last conversation.

I miss him but he's right there.

Waiting for me.

It's noon when someone knocks at my door. I'm in my bed, hugging the pillow that smells like him. But frankly it smells more like me because he started using my shampoo so he can smell like me. His cologne is mixed in there though.

The knocking continues and I sigh. Maybe they'll go away. I can't let anyone see me like this. Not with this tangled up bun of hair that hasn't been washed or the day old mascara surrounding my eyes. Plus I can only assume with the lack of sleep I look even tougher than I think.

And the bruise on my jaw has darkened. Only reminding me of my pain.

Plus, I'm wearing what is obviously Harry's shirt because there are literal pictures of him wearing it on the internet.

I'm finally fed up with the knocking, so I throw the covers off and storm to the door, opening it to reveal Benny. He has coffee in his hands from Beachwood.

I want to throw up.

"Okay, that's a no to the coffee." He sucks in a breath, placing it on the step beside him.

"What are you doing here?" I croak, turning around and entering my house as he follows.

"Checking on you, duh." Benny shrugs. "This was also in your mailbox."

When I turn, he's showing me a manila envelope. I furrow my brows and grab it. He watches as I rip it open to reveal a CD with a photo of Harry in a pink shirt and white trousers with a letter attached to it.

Just by the way it's folded into an origami figure, I know it's him.

Carefully, I unfold it so I can see the words properly. I can already picture him sitting at his stupid desk with his stupid fancy pens writing with his stupid fingers.