Labels || H.S. [#Wattys2020]

THIRTY-TWO

Things were different, to say the least. Reagan was different, Harry was different, the entire fucking world was different. Reagan was starting to believe it was a hoax, that there was no way that so much could change by giving in to her feelings, but it had. She knew it was stupid to think the world seemed a little better, a little brighter, a little happier since she had started kind of going out with Harry, but it did. As much as she hated to admit it, it really did.

As she sat up in her bed on a peaceful Saturday morning, she counted down the minutes until Kennedy would burst into her room, asking her what she should wear when she met Louis and the rest of the boys. So until the very expected interruption, she decided to reflect back on the past couple of days.

She found it funny how you kind of replay those moments, those really defining moments you never thought would ever happen in a million years. She saw Harry's face up close, every blemish, every little mark, on repeat in her mind. She could feel his touch upon her skin and lips upon hers and with every passing second, she just buried herself further and further under her covers.

Of course, every part of her was screaming it was too good to be true, of course, she could see every tweet wrote about her, every blog post, every comment in the back of her head in bright bold letters. She knew what she looked like, she knew who she was, and she knew she was nothing like those girls that used to be linked to Harry. But she was starting to wonder if it mattered. After all, Harry was crazy about her. Not as crazy as she was about him, but she would never admit it. In fact, she would probably never show it. That's just who she was. But the fact that she was starting to wonder if everyone else's opinion mattered was huge. She didn't quite comprehend it yet, but she was slowly starting to make a little progress on her war on her self-image. Sure, it was because of Harry, but did it matter? The fact that she was slowly starting to realize that maybe there were some redeeming qualities in her was a good thing after all, wasn't it?

She rolled around in her bed, trying to get comfortable. She wanted to go for a run, but her mother had a strict 'no weekend runs' policy in order to keep them sane. She did need the day off from exercising, but she also needed it to keep her mind off of everything that was going on.

Reagan sighed as she finally got comfortable again. She looked at her ceiling, wondering if Harry thought about her as much as she thought about him. It was a self-centered thought, but a valid one. She wondered what it was that had made Harry fall for her, if even really had. She knew he liked her, but she lived with the crippling fear that one day he would wake up and realize that he could do much better. That he deserved much better. And usually, when she got to those thoughts, that's when she started to see that maybe she was being a little too harsh on herself. That Harry liked her and for now, maybe that's all that should matter. As long as they were careful that things could totally be fine, at least, she hoped so.

"TODAY IS THE DAY!"

Reagan jumped from her bed, even though she had been awaiting this, she was still taken by surprise when Kennedy slammed open her door and marched into her room with five hangers of outfits.

"Good morning to you too," Reagan said sleepily.

"What should I wear?" Kennedy asked, climbing onto Reagan's bed with all the clothing in her hands.

"Clothes."

"I'm serious."

"Me too. Those are important."

Kennedy pouted, "Come on Rae," She shook Reagan's arm, "Please help me?"

"Are you trying to impress Louis?"

"Duh."

"Then no."

"What!? Why!?"

"You're eighteen."