deceived ↠ harry styles ✓

[7]

[ASTRID REESE]
London, England

★ ★ ★

It would be fair to say that after being stood up, Astrid felt like someone locked her in a room with no windows or doors, and a radiator turned up completely. Sweat trickled down her temples, drawing the perfect line down her jaw until the drops of her suffering fell from her chin. By that point, she imagined, her shirt was soaked and smelled. She felt uncomfortable because her clothes were sticking to her and lost, because she had no idea how she found herself in this situation or why. Why was she stuck in this room? Why was she sweating? Why?

But, of course, the answer to those questions was simple. Harry Styles. He was the reason. In one way or another, he put her there and now, she suffered. The difficult part of it all was the acceptance. Denying it until she couldn't, Astrid had to come to the conclusion on her own, that it hurt. It made her feel ridiculous, embarrassed to be more specific, but still ridiculous. It was a joke. It had to be, right? She felt something else. There was something else.

Shame?

Shame.

Why did she feel shame? It wasn't like she stood someone up. Annoyingly enough, someone else stood her up. Someone who was supposed to be an easy ride through heartbreak as opposed to someone who'd bring even more heartache with them. And this was the part where she felt ridiculous. Astrid barely knew the guy and she felt so attached to him that it sickened her. All he did was ditch out on a date—which hurt her like it would hurt any other person—and Reese thought her whole world shattered into pieces.

Maybe it was Derek Molyneux. Maybe it was the residue of him that sprinkled onto the Sexy Surgeon. Maybe these feelings were the little speckles that the ex-left behind, gently falling on Harry Styles as though these remains decided to swing off of a tree like lovely cherry blossom petals until they found a comfortable resting place in his shiny hair.

After all, Astrid was finding comfort in the large yet delicate hands of Harry Styles to calm her bleeding heart. Funnily enough, she had chosen the perfect candidate, given his occupation and all.

So, how was it that she found the safest set of hands yet fell so hard, almost right through them?

Okay. Time to cut the dramatics, right? It was one date. Lazily dropped into a casual conversation. It was late in the evening and Harry visibly looked tired. He must've forgotten all about it—at least, thinking that, Astrid had a reason to somewhat get over it.

"What do you think of this one, dear?" aaand she was back in the real world, invited by none other than Jennifer. With the help of the store employee—who most likely felt as trapped as Astrid—, Jennifer stood up on to the elevated platform, allowing the dress to fall out perfectly. The woman resembled one of those marzipan bride statues that go on top of annoyingly white wedding cakes.