[HarryStyles] Let Them Slip Out Of Your Mouth

Five.

“We’re going to open the door for you and you’re going to get under the umbrella.” It’s not raining, an umbrella will only draw more attention, but it shields us from the cameras better than a hood and a hand in front of our faces ever would. “When you’re under the umbrella, hold each other’s hands and stay close to us. We’re going to walk into the building. Simon said that he’s on the first floor in a conference room.” She opens the door, sliding out of her seat, and my father turns around, raising an eyebrow, silently asking me if I'm going to be okay.

This is my first real appearance, the first time I’ve really seen anyone, because Beau and Lisa don’t really could as people, they’re more like family, and even when we went to dinner there weren’t that many people there. The only reason they were there, I later learned, is because that Harry kid was there, eating dinner with some girl, and they were all waiting to be the one to capture it on camera; I was just the bonus, the present hidden under the branches of a Christmas tree that probably got them more money and a picture of that Harry kid would ever get them, and it’s only because of what I’ve been through, not who I am.

Nodding my head, I bite down on my lower lip, holding my hand out for Kayla to take, which she does, she grips onto my hand, tightly, but not tight enough to hurt, I don’t know if she’s excited for who she’s about to meet or if she’s terrified of the number of people surrounding the car that we’re now somewhat trapped inside of. “Are you ready to meet Ed Sheeran?” She doesn’t answer me, doesn’t say anything, nothing at all, and I run a hand through my hair, wrapping my fingers around the doorknob of the door.

“Wait, Braelyn,” her voice stops me, sends chills down my spine, there is so much sorrow in it, and I let go of the door, spinning my body around to face her, and I knit my eyebrows together, begging for her to go on. “What do I say to him?” Opening my mouth to answer her, to tell her that all she has to say is a simple greeting and just let him control the conversation, she shakes her head. “His song made you cry happy tears. How do I thank him for that?”

&&.

By the time we got into the building, ten minutes later filled with shoving and screaming and threats and camera flashes, the tears had stopped falling, I was no longer visibly in pain because of what Kayla said, and because of the umbrella that blocked my face from the views of others. “This is why I said no to this. This is why I said if you want to meet up with someone who is connected to that shit you have them come to the house. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen and it happened.”

He’s seething, fuming, and if we were in a cartoon his ears would be steaming with smoke, I'm terrified, I don’t know who he’s more mad at, me or Lisa, or maybe Kayla for making me cry, I don’t know, but I don’t want him to be mad at anyone. “Dad, you’re being unreasonable. He would have called people and had them follow them to our house. Do you want people knowing where we live?” They know where our apartment is in Manhattan, that was a shock, I didn’t realize that people were following me, not to where I live anyway, it was weird, I don’t know how they got past the doorman, but they did, and were only stopped when security realized what was going on.

“He said that they're the last room at the end of the door.” Lisa says; her voice high, squeaky, like she’s upset with what happened, too, and it makes me wonder what she made Simon agree to and what he’s going to do to break all the empty promises he made to her. “Let’s get going. They’re expecting us.”

Shaking his head, my father laughs a humorless laugh, and my sister takes a step close to me, her grip on my hand tightening, but he doesn’t seem to notice, because if he did he would have relaxed, scaring her is never his intention. “Did he promise not to tell anyone? Or did you not to promise to tell anyone? Which one of you told people about her being here, Lisa, huh? What makes you think that as a father I'm not going to question these things? I don’t care how close to my family you are. If there’s a need for me to become protective then I'm going to.”

A door opens at the end of the hallway, everyone stops talking, no one knows what to say, we’re all silent, and he couldn’t have been loud enough for people to hear him. Simon opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, his signature tight, white V-neck clinging to chest, and I hear Kayla force a gag, giggling quietly. “You’re late.” Tilting his head to the side, he raises an eyebrow, and I swear I heard my father growl, like a dog, but he didn’t, I'm imagining things; I hate Simon, with every fiber of my being.

Without another word, the four of us walk down the hallway, my father walking in front of my sister and I and Lisa behind us, for whatever the reason, I don’t even care enough at this point to try to figure out why this is the new formation and what privacy purpose it achieves. Kayla’s flip flops squeak on the floor, slamming down on the wood flooring, it’s the only sound among the four of us, besides our breathing, and I hate it, this is what I didn’t want to happen.

“Who are they?” My father stops walking, but I don’t notice his immobility until I slam into his back, stumbling backwards until Lisa places her hands on my shoulders to steady me. “They are not Ed Sheeran. Are you serious right now, Simon? You’re really going to continue to mess with my daughter? She didn’t ask to meet these kids. She doesn’t even know who they are. Ask her to name them and she’ll look at you like your crazy because to her they shouldn’t be famous. This is, you’re dead, Simon, I swear, this is the last time you mess with my daughter.”

Kayla places her hand on our dad’s, tilting her head to the side, her eyes growing wide when she looks into the room, but I refuse to move from behind my father. He’s not there, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that, that Simon lied, I'm not meeting Ed Sheeran, and I don’t know why I thought that I would be since he’s involved.

She bites down on her lower lip, running a hand through her hair, and she looks up at me, shrugging her shoulders, and for some reason there are tears in her eyes. “He lied, Brae. It’s One Direction, not Ed.”