The Weeks Between • HS

Week 13 • Nola

I remember the look on his face, broken and beyond hurt, when he begged, "but it's my past, can't people change?" I couldn't answer that question, because I didn't know what bothered me so much about it in the first place. I had an idea, but surely my feelings for him couldn't be it. All that I knew was that I needed to get away from this game gone wrong, and I needed to get away fast.

"We said five questions and that is question six." I told him and asked him to show me my room. His shoulders sagged as he walked me to the room set up for me. He told me, his eyes uncharacteristically not able to meet mine, "I am just next door."

"OK. Goodnight," I told him, literally locking him out of my space to keep him from trying to get me to talk. I turned to take in the room. It was a tall room, with high rafters with aged exposed beams, which I assumed were the original structures. The walls were a light tan and everything was muted and aged, a stark difference from his more modern house in London. On the bed was a pile consisting of a fluffy robe and some slippers that laid next to a set of pajamas that had 'Nola' monogrammed on them. Of course. they were Gucci.

I sat down on my bed next to all the goodies that Harry had placed in my room. Running my hand over the soft fabric of the robe, I became overwhelmed with emotions and tears began to stream down my face. I sat in silence, still reliving all the things that lead up to my emotional breakdown over Harry's answers. I knew when I asked it that it was a stupid question. I knew that it was going to bring into focus some of the parts of him that I'd been trying to avoid knowing the truth about. I mean, anybody in my position would have Googled him, but when I went down that rabbit hole one evening, I swore off letting random people on the internet inform me of anything that had to do with my Harry. Not when I could just walk next door and ask him, but I never expected to ask that question point blank, or to receive the answers that I did.

The fact that he cheated as a way to end things, as a way to destroy a relationship before the other person had the chance, seemed so juvenile and far too familiar. More than that, though, it churned something deep inside of me that made me angry and fearful. Fearful that I was going to meet the same fate at his hands, even though, between us, there was no relationship for him to destroy. Or was there?

I heard a shuffling outside my door. I stood still to listen, hearing Harry finally leave the space he had been sitting in outside my room and closing the door to his own. I could finally relax, knowing that he wasn't expecting me to let him in tonight, or so I thought.

A few hours into letting my mind wander and overthink, there was a gentle shake of my doorknob, which was locked. Then, a soft knock and I huffed in annoyance. "Harry, please go away." I told him, not wanting to talk about anything tonight, or tomorrow, or probably the day after that because talking meant that I was going to have to admit that I had feelings and that I also had an irrational fear of Harry Styles cheating on me. Admitting both of those things would make me appear seriously delusional.

I walked over to the door, laying my hands on the wood, knowing that he was on the other side probably doing exactly what I was "Nol, just let me in and talk to me." I didn't respond, so he asked again. "Please, Nola." I could hear the pain in his voice.

"H, I just...." I inhaled sharply. "I just need a little space. Go to your meetings tomorrow and the girls and I will stay here." I said and felt the need to add, "please."

"Alright. If that's what you want."

"That's what I need, H." I heard him go back to his room, so I took the opportunity to go to the bathroom because I had been holding it for a while, and I needed to wash the crusty tears away from my eyes. Thankfully, when I came back out of the bathroom, he was not waiting for me in the hallway, like I was afraid he would be.