"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
She's here, and I don't know what to do or say, I just know she needs me, and I need her.
I need to be there for her.
I want to be there for her.
Ever since she abruptly hung up the phone after insisting on coming to see me instead of allowing me to go see her like I would have preferred, I've been pacing around in circles much to the worry of everyone on set. Jeff and Hélène have been begging me to calm down for the past hour, using any tactic they can to get me to work, therefore distracting myself and easing my mind.
But at this point, I really don't care how much valuable time and money we waste on this shoot, because I'll gladly pay everyone's overtime myself. All I care about right now is her.
My mind is reeling with the possibilities of what I might be met with when she arrives.
Will she be so destroyed that even the slightest of gazes frightens her?
Will she be so beaten down that I struggle to look at her without wanting to hunt down the very person that committed such a heinous act upon such a gentle flower?
Will she arrive and leave just as quickly when she realizes that she'd rather throw herself into the arms of someone else- someone who actually deserves her love and affection?
Will she be angry with me like she has been for the past three months for reasons that I don't understand. Sure, I really fucked up when my own nerves got the best of me that day in her bedroom- her beautifully bright bedroom that smelled like flowers and summertime... that smelled just like her, but somehow I know she's not ignoring me because of that.
I just wish I knew why.
My last memory of her is from the Met, granted it isn't the sharpest, but I can still vividly remember how breathtakingly gorgeous she looked that night. Everything about her made my heart stop.
Weeks, even moments prior to arriving at the gala, Camille had been on my mind a lot. For reasons I can't explain, I couldn't get her soft blonde hair and deep cyan eyes out of my head. Her voice and tender touch haunted me with every breath I took, and every time I closed my eyes the memories of her sickeningly sweet laugh became clearer.
However, none of that mattered to me seeing as I didn't and don't miss her. I'm not sure I ever even really loved her. What kept striking me like lightning, electrocuting my entire body with painful jolts of white hot fire, was the impending horror that something is wrong with me- that I'll never be good enough for anyone. That's why I couldn't stop thinking about Camille. If I wasn't enough for her, then who will I ever be enough for?
