Nightmare {h.s | au}

1.26

Monday rolled around and my weekend fears settled in heavily. It was rare to see me so jittery and scared, but the fine September morning knew what I didn't like showing. And it all boiled down to a certain curly-haired bastard and his damned pink lips.

I had never been kissed like that before and had never been talked so sweetly to before. That wasn't what scared me most though. I was treading in unchartered water without any chance of being rescued because even though I knew it was wrong, I had replayed the interaction in my head over and over again until it was engrained in my mind. If I closed my eyes, I saw those green eyes with the odd golden green surrounding his irises so close that I wasn't sure if I was going to be kissed again or not. But even more than that, Harry's reactions to me brought an all-consuming fear that was so different that I wasn't sure how to respond.

Basically I didn't.

He had only sent one text over the weekend and it wasn't to apologize. It was to tell me that he wanted to talk because obviously kissing me wasn't what he had wanted to talk about. It only made me wonder what he actually wanted to talk about because I can guarantee you that it isn't the way I grunt when I stretch. So at this point, I'd rather avoid.

And avoiding Harry Styles was impossible; he was everywhere that I needed to be. Our art project time before school was full of awkward silence after I'd told him that I wasn't in the mood. Homeroom had been impossible because he literally sat beside me, but Harry never made a sound that whole hour; he let me be involved with my book without a word. It was easy enough to find ways to avoid him throughout the rest of the morning because of my expertise in ducking-and-diving-thank you, Manchester and all of your hell.

Then lunch rolled around and I knew that I wouldn't be able to avoid for even the slightest of seconds unless I got my lunch and left. Consequently I did. I took my sandwich and apple out to the field and climbed the bleachers to the top. The breeze blew my dress up until I had managed to sit down, but it was worth not having to talk to Harry about anything.

All I wanted was me. I wanted to self-loathe and figure out what went so horribly wrong why I was in Manchester. My mind was reeling and going on about me. There was no way that I had room for Harry in this jumbled mess of my life; I didn't understand how he wasn't getting that with all of my warnings.

Once I'd finished the sandwich, I munched away on the apple, my mind on Harry.

Harry: the guy who wore too much black. Harry: the guy with about as many secrets as me. Harry: the guy who knew how to make me smile and laugh and shout and feel. Harry: the jackass who was screwing up what I thought was right.

Harry was my Mad Hatter just as Miss Vent had said. But Alice never loved the Mad Hatter as anything more than a friend, sibling, family member. Why did my Mad Hatter kiss me then?

I stood up quickly and began my walk down the bleachers, careful not to fall. The revelation was fresh in my mind and spurring me on. My feet carried me into the cafeteria only to find it more or less cleared out. My next stop was our hallway, but only a few seniors were there and grabbing books for the hour that was approaching fast.

Honestly, I had no idea what I'd say to Harry once I found him. Maybe I'd tell him that I knew it was me that he'd told Angelina about after her quite successful date with Liam. Maybe I'd just gawk until he said the first words, but he had. That text was his way of reaching out to me without fully coming to the house and telling Reece-who didn't seem to found of Harry at the moment-that he wanted to see me. And really, I wouldn't have allowed Reece to let him in the house if he'd have come over during the weekend. I was...too scared.