Ninas London (One Direction fanfic)

Chapter 18

I slowly turn around to see Harry, standing right in front of me. His face is a mixture of both concern and confusion as his eyes search mine. Screw this napkin. It probably failed to wipe away the remaining tears and smudged mascara.

"Hi," he says softly, and the innocence and sweetnes of his voice instantly melts my heart. "Is everything alright?"

No. Everything's certainly not alright. I just listened to a live performance of Moments, the perfect anthem for that horrible night from last summer. And I'm not ready to retrace those memories.

But I nod my head anyway, feeling weak and stupid. These past months I was hoping to look beautiful and perfect for the boys, but now I just look like a mess.

I can tell that Harry doesn't buy my lie. "You sure?" he asks, knitting his eyebrows. It's apparent that he's not leaving anytime soon.

I look over at the others, who are all busy and chatting away, oblivious of our absence. I turn back to Harry and see those green eyes, which suddenly look so much more real and bright than any computer screen could ever show. But in his eyes is something new; it's almost an emptiness, like he's waiting for an answer I haven't given him yet.

I know I need to tell him. Just keep it short and stick to the point.

"Um, the song," I start, and my throat catches. I can't start crying again, not with him standing here all flawless. But it's so hard. "That song," I continue, "just, gets to me, um..." I take in a shaky breath and pray for my voice to stop wavering. "It's personal to me, it kinda reminds me of, um..." I can't do this. I shamefully feel a tear trickle down my cheek, and Harry immediately grabs another napkin. He hands it to me silently, and I wipe my cheek with it. He waits patiently as I take in another breath.

"I just went through a, um, hard time last summer." I try to say the words while blocking out the images that come with them. It doesn't work. "And that song just... reminds me of it. The lyrics and stuff." I sniffle and I cringe at how ugly it sounds. I look down and stare at my Oxfords, watching another tear fall from my chin and splash onto them.

Harry is silent for a moment, and when I look up he's still watching me. This time, the look of confusion is replaced with one of empathy.

"Do you," he says, looking over at the busy others, "want to talk about it?"

Usually I say no. I have been for a year, after all. But this time's different; Harry has a look of genuine concern, unlike the bland questioning glances I've gotten at school, when the flashbacks attacked me again.

So I nod, and walk over to a tree standing directly next to the buffet table. I lean against the trunk, facing away from the others. Harry stands a few feet in front of me, hands in his khakis, peering out from under his brown hair. We're all alone except for a few onlooking bodyguards, so I guess if I'm going to tell my story it's now or never.

"Where do I begin," I start, weakly laughing. It comes out flat and humorless. "Well, you know how Caitlin's my best friend?" Harry nods, listening to every word.

"Well," I continue, feeling my throat tighten as I struggle to say the next few words. "She and I, we, um... have been friends pretty much all through high school. But, the thing that I've been trying so hard to forget, is, that..." I dip my head, feeling a fresh wave of tears start to come. Just tell him. Say it.

I take a deep breath, along with every ounce of courage I can muster.

"Caitlin and I, um, used to have a third best friend. Brooke." Oh God. Just saying her name, after refusing to say it for a year now, sends the tears down my face. Now my voice is shaking uncontrollably. "And I haven't talked about it for a year, because... last summer, she..." I can't do it. I can't say the word, I'm too weak. I bring my hands to my eyes and try to stop the waterworks. In front of me Harry's bowing his head, letting me do what I have to do. I let out one small sob, then discreetly pinch myself. No. You are not going to cry in front of him.