MAGNETIC [H.S.]

47. tried to change the ending

songs:
new york: piano version - st. vincent.
cardigan- taylor swift
wait to play cardigan till i tell you...

I tossed the cigarette to the ground and watched the toe of my sneaker snub it out on the concrete. I adjusted my headphones, resituated my purse on my body, and started the walk toward my subway station.

I did not turn to look over my shoulder at the man following me across the street. I did not flick my eyes in his direction, I did not sneak a glance, I did absolutely nothing to let him know that I knew he was there.

My heart thudded louder though, echoing in my ears while the music failed to drown it out. My hands shook, and my ears were red. My body hummed in his presence, even then.

The first time I saw him was almost a month ago. He was talking to a woman who was lost, giving her directions, and my ears caught his voice the second I stepped outside. He was turned away from me and I spent a full minute staring at his back, willing him to turn around and catch me.

Catch me staring, Harry. Hold my eye contact while my heart beats out of my chest. Hold my gaze while we walk towards the crosswalk. Run across this crowded city street and wrap me in your arms. Kiss me silly. Kiss me till I can't breathe. Kiss me like you know I'm sorry. Tell me you know I didn't mean it. Tell me you love me. Turn around, Harry.

He never did.

As soon as his shoulder moved to turn, my eyes met the pavement. My fingers clutched the blue pack of cigarettes and shook as I lit one. I didn't look at him again, but I saw him. He was still standing there, watching me. When I moved toward the subway, he moved too. When I got off the subway, my eyes caught his jacket. Harry Styles was following me home.

That first time, I was so mad at myself for the stupid smile on my face as I climbed the stairs. I was so mad at myself for the way my heart ached for him. I was mad that I wasn't as strong as I was a year ago. I was mad that I wasn't as strong as I was four years ago when I left him in that airport. I spent that whole night beating myself up for still caring that he cared about me. I called myself horrible names in my head, told myself I was pathetic, told myself I was the worst kind of woman, always waiting on a toxic man.

I spent the whole next day beating myself up for it because I didn't deserve to be happy after the way I treated him. I told myself I was cruel and he deserved better than me. I told myself that I would never deserve to be happy with him and that this was the universe punishing me for my stupidity. Just when he really wanted me, I destroyed it. Just when I could have had his love, I spat it in his face. I told myself I deserved to be miserable. He didn't come that day.

The day after that I smoked so much weed that I didn't feel anything at all. I felt nothing until I walked out of my studio building and saw a head of brown waves conveniently avoiding my eyes across the street. Then, I felt everything, and I knew I was fucked.