Some Lonely Feeling ✧ H.S. A.U.

Chapter 15;

Author's Note: Okay, so first off, I want to thank you for all of the recent reads, and followers! I have somehow gained like 1,000 reads,and 30 new followers in the past day or so! It means a lot really!

Secondly though, I would also like to mention something about my story generally. On my first part, a lot of people are commenting and asking things generally close to "Why'd it have to be Niall that died?" and I'd just like to clear up, or explain that when I did begin this story, it was for fun, and I knew that I'd be able to feel the most emotion, and make it sound best at the time if I made Niall die, and when I decided to publish it, it seemed to stick. Plus, later in the story or even now, Harry fits the role he got perfectly in my opinion, plus I think the position I put Niall in I think fits the story also. So, I just wanted to clear up that I don't hate Niall. Niall is my favorite, and I certainly wouldn't want anything happening to him. I love him with all my heart!

Anyway, here's Part 15, so hopefully you enjoy! :)

***

I stood stiffly, glancing back and forth thinking of how to get home. I no longer had any desire to walk home, so soon after seeing a bookstore nearby, I decided that was my best bet. I watched my feet, as I walked with my head down. In the pit of my stomach, I felt an odd anxious feeling that seemed everlasting, like it would never go away. Also, I was finding myself being sparsely observant of my surroundings, as if I actually believed something else was going to happen today. I pushed down the left sleeve of Harry's sweater, pushing open the door to the store. I listened to the ding, making me feel disgusted at the positive tone it gave off. It seemed that it was becoming hard to be positive now, at any point. I took a deep, unhappy breath looking up at the woman at a desk, with a cash register on it. Scattered around the desk was a lot of jumbled papers, and somehow still sitting on the corner, was a tiny black rack holding a selection of bookmarks, "Hello!" the woman said brightly, "How can I help you? Any specific genres you're looking for?" she asked grinning widely. Her black hair was long and wavy, falling down her back. She looked in her mid-fourties, and she was wearing a harsh shade of red lipstick.

"No," I replied looking to the floor, and then back up to her, "I was actually wondering if I could use your phone?"

I don't know why I hadn't noticed the odd concerned look she was holding upon her face, "Why?" she asked scoping me up and down. I hadn't felt so out of place when I had gotten in here, but looking at it now, I must've looked odd; coming in with Harry's over-sized sweater, his shorts, and dirty, wet converse on. I hadn't seen my reflection, except once vaguely in the display window on my way into the shop, but from what I saw my mascara was smeared down my cheeks, and the bun I had in my hair was fallen loosely on my shoulder, and I had many messy stray strands everywhere falling chaotically onto my shoulders.

"I don't have a phone with me, and I need to call for a ride back across town," I said briskly, now noticing my slight irritable mood.

She stuttered slightly, getting her business phone out from somewhere in that desk, "U-uh, yeah here," she answered still looking at me strangely, making me extremely uncomfortable.

I called Harry immediately, praying he would pick up, "Hello?" His voice lifted a massive weight off of my shoulders.

"Harry!" I replied enthusiastically.

"Yeah?" he said raspily.

"I'm so sorry," I started. I hated bothering him, "Um, could you, could you come pick me up?" I asked nervously.

"Yeah, where are you?" he asked coughing quickly.

"I'm in that bookstore near the restaurant we went to last night," I answered. Last night had felt like ages ago, but yep, that was yesterday.