Fat // Harry Styles

chapter five

chapter five

I BLEW A strand of hair out of my face, locking the carts together then shoving the line towards the entrance of the store. Once in place, I grabbed a handful of my hair and fanned the back of my neck with it. I didn't have a hair-tie, and quite frankly, I didn't like my hair in a ponytail. Not in public, at least.

Chelsea, a fellow cashier, called me over to help bag an elder woman's groceries. I threw on my most convincing smile, even managing to trail along with conversation. She was genuinely very sweet and couldn't stop talking about her grandkids. They were the reason she had been getting so much stuff, after all. And yet, when the price continued to climb higher, the woman kept chuckling and gushing.

"Would you like help out today, ma'am?" I asked, as I was told to do or else I probably wouldn't. It just meant more time for said person in need to judge me.

"Oh, yes dearie. These old legs aren't as strong as they used to be," she said, then dived right back into rambling about the mass of children she constantly had around her.

She held my arm while we walked, and the poor thing could hardly move at a normal pace. She pointed to her car with a shaky finger, shocking me when I saw she was further back. I had expected her to be in a handicap spot. She must've read my thoughts because she said it was meaningless for her to take up space someone else might sincerely need.

I didn't bother bringing up old age as a potential necessity, positive she would wave away my comment. She definitely didn't appear to be the type to let numerous years weigh her down. So I kept quiet and helped her pack her groceries into the trunk of her 2002 Buick Century. A typical "old person" vehicle, she said.

"You remind me of my sixth granddaughter," she told me with a bright smile, eyes wrinkling until you could barely see them. "Very quiet, very polite, but very stiff. Tell me, how are you doing, dear?"

A bit taken aback, I stumbled over my words. "Oh, well, I'm... I'm fine, I suppose."

Her frail hand came up to my shoulder where she gave it a gentle pat. "One day you'll sound more confident in your answer."

Still slightly bewildered, I couldn't think of a reply quick enough. She was in her car and I was moving out of the way so she could back out. She winked at me when she drove past, so I waved, holding her statement she left me with close to my heart.

One day.

With an actual smile on my face, I wheeled the cart back into the store. I lifted my hair again to allow air to hit my neck, sighing in relief at the coolness. It was hot today, but it was the middle of September. I wanted sweater weather, hot chocolate and a fireplace. The outdoors would be close to enjoyable if it weren't so scorching under the sun.

"Most women try a thing called ponytails," a familiar voice said. "Maybe you could try it."

I turned to see Harry, my chest constricting. I figured he'd show up sooner or later, but it was sooner than I'd been wishing for. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want him to keep lying to me, to keep acting as if he knew all that I'd been through. He was a faker just like everyone else, and I hated him for being so good at it.

Lifting my chin a little higher, I began walking off. I heard him sigh before his footsteps followed mine, and he began speaking instantly.

"You didn't come Wednesday or today and I got worried about you. I'm sorry I upset you, Delilah, okay? I truly am. I was just hoping you'd see your situation from a different perspective and..." He trailed off because I had stopped walking.

He wasn't wrong. I didn't go to Wednesday's session, and I did skip today's. I was still frustrated with how Monday's session went. He had gotten too nosy, too cocky. He was reading me as if I were an open book and I didn't like that. He wasn't allowed to do that. I never gave him permission to search for answers he was apparently desperate to find.