22 || Mirrors?!

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A/N: The picture above is Harry's outfit, and the song mentioned in this chapter is Fleetwood Mac's 'Over my head'!

When I awake, my body is aching and it's not in a pleasant, 'morning afterglow' way either. There's a kink in my neck that throbs stronger with each slightest move I make—the result of the messy position I had fallen asleep in. The only thing giving me some form of comfort is the blanket strewn haphazardly across my frame... Looks like Harry had covered me up before leaving last night.

I stretch my arms groggily as I realise that there's no sign of said man anywhere in the room. The morning light is only beginning to seep in through the curtains, which means I'd slept for no longer than two hours at most. Harry must have left sometime during the night.

It's when I roll over to my side that I feel something cold bump against my nose. There's a pink carnation that looks like it's been freshly plucked from my garden, along with a note written on the back of my grocery receipt from last night. 

My traitorous lips begin to quirk up before I swiftly turn to press my face into the pillow with a groan

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My traitorous lips begin to quirk up before I swiftly turn to press my face into the pillow with a groan. I will not be smiling at his notes like a goofy fool. No.

The memory of his apology from last night comes rolling back like a wave, and once again, I find myself having to suppress a sigh. He wasn't even trying to, and he's already managed to worm his way into my brain. I have never been the kind of person to let someone affect me so easily, and yet, Harry had managed to do that even before actually meeting me.

I know now that the reason we had connected so easily from the start is that we are, in fact, very similar. Our backgrounds may be very different—Harry, as far as I know, had a relatively normal childhood—but we have dealt with a comparable amount of media attention in the past. 

Last night, there had still been a part of me reluctant to admit how badly his mocking words that one night have affected me. For anyone else, a small harmless joke would probably seem like nothing, but to me, the way people view me means literally everything. It always did, and it always will.

But then Harry once again surprised me by bringing the matter up himself to apologize; something I'm sure I would have been afraid to do had the situation been reversed.

Now that I know that Harry understands why my reaction had been so extreme, it feels like a massive burden has been lifted off my chest. He gets me—probably even more than Asa who has so far been the only person I could discuss the topic of my fame with.

With my mind still spiralling over the events of last night, I vaguely register the sound of the buzzer echoing around the room. When it becomes obvious that whoever's on the other side of the door is not leaving, I trudge slowly to the door to look at the intercom camera feed only to see a black Range Rover in my driveway, a familiar tattooed arm waving at me. 

What the heck? Wasn't he just here?

I buzz him in before looking down at my clothes with a frown… Yes, the same ones I had worn last night. There's no time to remedy the situation though since the car is already pulling up at my door; all I can do is open it and wait at the threshold.

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