27: Just a Kiss (Loren)

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On my way to class, I buy two more copies of each of the tabloids, the headlines cracking me up. Both The Older Woman Who Has Captured Hazza's Heart and Harry Canoodles With His Sister's Friend make me laugh every time I look at them.

Gemma joins me from her first class, falling in step next to me. Bumping my shoulder, she gestures with her head towards the newspapers. "Journalism! It's a lost art. That's pure fiction right there."

"Well," I hedge, "technically, you are my friend and Harry is your brother, so they get marks for including one true fact. And I am older than him, so..." Shrugging my shoulders, I giggle. "Honestly, I'm just pissed that I don't know where the photos came from because I would like to have real copies of them. Especially this one where I'm laughing at that face he's making."

Looking over my shoulder, Gemma bursts forth with a "HA!" before she tilts her head, taking the tabloid from my hand. "That's here at uni, Lor. When was the last time he visited you on campus?"

Scratching my head, I think back to his previous visit. "You remember, Gems. I told you about it. That night he showed up completely drunk and was sick in the bin outside my flat? These must have been taken the next morning when he and I were waiting outside for a driver to pick him up."

My mobile rings, and I wave to Gemma as she peels off to her next class. Answering, I'm not even remotely surprised to hear my boyfriend launch immediately into a rant. "What the actual fuck, Loren? You told me you were just friends with this rich asshole, and now I find out you've been doing him all of this time? You're a fucking cunt and a liar. As we speak, I am gathering your things from my flat and throwing them out the window. You better get over here if you want any of them." There's a crash on his end of the phone, and I cringe as I wonder what's just been destroyed.

"Matt –" I try to explain, "I swear, the tabloids make shit up all the time. Harry and I –"

"Blah, blah, blah. 'Just friends.' Yeah, you've said that again and again, Loren. These pics tell a different story. Jesus Fucking Christ, you didn't even tell me you had seen him. And the way you're flirting in the picture – no, bitch. The truth is right here."

Opening my mouth to try again, I slam it shut when I hear another crash. My stomach churns, and I place a hand over it. Not that I care about my stuff, but Matt – He's the first real boyfriend I've had. And now he's leaving me? All because of a picture in the tabloids?

"Matt, calm down."

"Do not tell me to calm down!" By the way his voice is strained as he screams a stream of obscenities at me, I know his face is red, and that vein on his neck is probably standing out.

He's right of course. This isn't the time to talk to him. Let him cool off. He just needs time to breathe and take a step back. Tomorrow when he's calmer, I can talk to him. He'll be reasonable then.

In the middle of his rant, he suddenly stops, yells "Fuck you, Loren!" into the phone, and disconnects the call.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How could I be so stupid as to allow those pictures to be published publicly? It doesn't matter that I don't know who took them. I should never have allowed Harry to stay over. And I certainly shouldn't have waited outside with him. What was I thinking? People will always think awful things, but you don't have to give them evidence to prove their theories. I'm wracked with guilt. After all, I had enjoyed being the focus of Harry's attention. The way he'd looked at me that morning made me glow and reminded me of the single kiss we'd shared on his 16th birthday. Matt must have guessed how I feel about Harry.

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