American girl [H.S.]

Chapter 35 - Hungry for revenge

Harry's pov

Yes.

I fucked up.

I fucked up really bad.

I left the one girl that loved me through everything, through all my flaws, my mistakes. And I left her 3 times, I broke her 3 times because I was scared.

Now she will never trust me again.

I left her because everything became to real and I was scared of the feelings I had for her. I hurt her, even after I promised myself I wouldn't do it again.

I thought I was doing the right thing.

I wasn't.

After everything I thought that I could come back from tour, confess my love for her and run into her arms, kissing her while the whole world around us just disappears.

I broke up with Camille. I wrote a whole apology speech, explaining why I did what I did. I even made dinner when I realized she wasn't there. Right as I was about to call her the door opens and in comes her and Mr. fancy pants with his suit and tie.

I was so mad and sad and...too many things to comprehend. I never thought for a second she could've moved on from me, even though that's what I wanted in the first place.

All I felt like was a complete idiot.

I don't know why I thought that I deserved her in the first place. After everything I've done, she doesn't deserve some arrogant son of a bitch like me.

When I got up to the guest bedroom I logged into a different Instagram account and looked her up. When I scrolled through her feed I realized that she'd been dating this guy for 5 months.

When I saw her most recent post, that's when I broke.

My British boy.

Her British boy.

British boy.

She called him...British boy.

She called him my nickname.

The one that she gave me.

I feel hot tears rush down my cheeks and try to wipe them away, but they're only replaced by more and more.

Why am I crying? I don't get to cry after the shit I've pulled. I could've had her for so long, but I was just so blind to see.

And now she's replaced me.

I stand up, slowly opening the door and peeking my head out. She wasn't out so I snuck downstairs and decided to try to get everything out everything in a song. I grab the guitar and sit down on the piano bench.

I wonder if she's wrote any songs about me.

Who am I kidding?

I don't deserve a song from her.

*play song now*

I should be writing about Camille. I should be writing about summer fun or my family, but no.

I'm here writing about the girl who could've been mine.

The girl who I lost because I was too stupid to think and open my eyes.

"Don't you call him baby...we're not talking lately...don't you call him what you use to call me.." All that is ringing in my head is British boy. She called him what she used to call me.

"I...I confess..I can tell that you are at your best...I'm selfish so I'm hating it.." She looks happy with him, so why am I not happy?

"I...notice that..there's a piece of you in how I dress...take it as a compliment.."