etc. // hs

4.

Italics mean it's a flashback btw

*Norah's POV*

My acceptance letter to Newcastle was hung right above the desk in my room, and my mom caught me staring at it for the fifth time when I was supposed to be packing.

"Norah Rose," she tutted, handing me another stack of clothes. "You were supposed to be packed an hour ago."

"I know mom," I laughed as I stole one last glance. "I'm just excited, but I'm doing it now. I promise."

I neatly packed the clothes into my bag and zipped it, cussing to myself as I cut my finger on a piece of plastic from new scissors my mother gave me.

"Damn," I muttered as I grabbed a towel near my bed. I tried to stop the bleeding but the cut was deeper than it looked so it only stung more as I sighed.

Once in the bathroom I searched for a band aid, but was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door.

"Would you get that, Norah?" My dad called from the hall. "I'm loading your bags into the car."

"Of course," I rolled my eyes. I jogged to the door and threw it open, only to be met with the sight of Harry Styles in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.

"Hi," he said quietly. He wouldn't even look at me. "I um, I came to help you pack up your stuff."

"I don't need your help," I replied coldly. "Leave me alone."

I started to close the door but his hand stopped it and forced it open, his dark green eyes staring straight into me as I scowled.

"You can't lift your bags."

"I have a father."

"And his back is messed up, Norah, you know that. Just let me help you."

"Norah," my mother called from the kitchen. "Is that Harry's voice?"

"Yeah."

"Why is he here?"

I smirked and Harry's face fell. My mother had always loved him, she practically worshipped him and now she was on my side.

"I," he faltered. "I just feel really shitty about everything and I'm supposed to be packing for my own college but I'm not. I can't sleep, Norah, and I need to do something for you. Just please let me help you put your bags in the damn car."

I should have slammed the door in his face but I didn't. I couldn't. I could never tell him no.

Present time

By the time Harry and I finished our tour of the house, my feet were aching (yes it was really that big). He had a heated swimming pool, a home theater the size of my living room back home, a workout room, a ginormous dining room that had never been used, and about a million other little rooms that had varying purposes. He was really rich, apparently.

"Ready for the main event?" He grinned as we walked up a hidden staircase. "Like I said, only two pairs of eyes have ever seen this room."

"Why is that, again?"

"Because I like my privacy, that's why."

We got to the top of the staircase and stood on a small ledge for a few moments as he opened the door. The ledge looked out a window onto miles of hillside and trees, interrupted only by pillars of smoke coming from other houses in the wilderness.