ambience [h.s]

CHAPTER 23.

The Barbie follows awkwardly behind Harry and I. We make our way to the lady that will tell us where to sit. There is a short line so we have to wait for a little bit. Harry's manager is watching us from a distance, reminding us to behave. Harry's hand is getting sweatier in mine the closer we get to entering.

"Is somebody nervous?" A small smile creeps onto my face. Harry scowls in return and I hide my smile. He clears his throat and steps toward the lady who will be telling us where our seats are. She is an old lady, who divulges a grumpy aura.

"Debra!" Harry puts his arms and dimples out. She peers over through her glasses.

"Name?" Her monotone voice only makes Harry smile.

"C'mon Debs, you know me." He gives her a wink.

"Name?"

"Your best friend." He gives her a nudge.

"Go on Harry, seats 135 and 136." I catch her smile as we pass by.

"Thanks sweet cheeks!" Harry calls over his shoulder.

Our seats are right behind Taylor Swift, which is crazy. I mean, even if you're not a Taylor Swift fan, you're a Taylor Swift fan. Harry tells me about all the people we see and we wave to Niall and Diana, who are sitting in the audience section.

Harry didn't let go of my hand through Nikki Minajs whole performance, and laughs nervously at everything Amy Poehler, the host, says. We have watched many people walk up to the stage and give thanks.

"Nominations for best performance in comedy!" Jonah Hill, Miles Teller, Dave Franco, and Harry Styles, Ryan Reynolds are the names called.

"And the winner is..." Blake Lively pulls out the card and opens it up. I squeeze Harrys hand, he takes a deep breath. "Harry Styles!" A smile breaks onto Harry's face and I laugh with happiness for him. He pulls me into a deep hug as his manager, agent, director, and colleagues congratulate him. It's the kind of hug where you mold into the person, where you don't know where you start, or where he does.

"Go." I whisper. He does. He walks to the stage, the crowd wild. I cheer and clap loudly. Blake hugs him and gives him the award.

"Wow, thank you so much!" Cheering. "Honestly such an award to have gotten this award over the amazing actors that were nominated. Thank you so much to my director, my team, my manager, and my Mom. Love you all!" He smiles one last time and walks off the stage back to me. He reminds me of a puppy that just arrived in a park, excited, happy, and relieved.

"The after party is at Dave Franco's house. I have to go take some pictures with my award and say hello to a few friends but I'll pick you up in the front of the arena in twenty in the limo." I nod.

"Harry! Over here Harry!" Barbie doll calls at him. I roll my eyes and storm in the other direction as he greets her, what a whore. I throw myself on the steps and wait. Harry just has to do a few things, then he will come. I sigh and place my head in my hand.
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It's been two hours. I have called him twice, texted him about one hundred times, and called his manager, who said she has no clue where he was, she thought he was with me. I replied to that with a low growl, like a cat would, or a tiger. I have called Diana, and was sent to voicemail, I called Niall and was sent to voicemail. I have taken off my shoes, and ripped out my bobby pins, instead putting my hair into a ratty bun. He forgot me. We have only been together for a couple weeks, but he's forgotten me already. I am drained. I napped for thirty minutes, hoping to wake up to a flash again, but instead I woke to a cars blinker.I sigh. I stretch out my legs and stand carefully, slamming my foot against the cold pavement until it wakes up. It's dark out, not cold, but the wind chills my bones, forcing goosebumps to arrive. My eyes scan the area, looking for a sign of humanity. When I see nothing, I groan and rip my phone from my wallet. I call Harry's manager again.

"Rose? What is it now?" She sounds like she was sleeping. I check the time. 1:00 am. My blood boils.

"I'm still sitting on a fucking curb at one o'clock in the morning! My boyfriend forgot me! He lied to me. I am cold, I am tired, I am pissed. I have been here for two hours and thirty minutes. And counting! I thought he would come, I thought what he was doing might take an hour! I waited that long. I took a fucking nap on the concrete. I called him after that. I texted him. Now I call you and you ask me 'what is it'?! I'll tell you what it is, it's betrayal!" My breath is gone, and I try to catch it as I stand there, panting with anger.

"He is probably Dave Francos after party." I hold in a scream. I thank her with a strained voice and hang up. I call Über, thankful that it doesn't have limited hours, and tell them the address. Now I wait, something I am getting quite good at.

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