I Bullied Harry Styles? *Narry Storan* Complete

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I stood there, frozen in confusion. I didn’t understand. Was he mocking me?

I finally bucked up enough courage to talk to the blonde.

“Y-you don’t remember me do you?” I asked, my thumb nail becoming suddenly interesting.

“Should I?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Yeah, kinda” I muttered, walking off and back around the counter to clean the drinks machines.

He didn’t recognise me. For some reason I couldn’t decide whether this was a good thing or not. It must have been? Right?

I was so confused.

“Kate, Im leaving early! I don’t feel well” I shouted to my boss, knowing that she’d let me go home. She had a soft spot for me. I’d probably be in a relationship with her now if it wasn’t for the fact that I didn’t like girls.

“Okay, get well soon Haz!”

I threw my apron over the coat hook in the back room, grabbing my bag and hoodie. I zipped up my purple hoodie, throwing my bag over my shoulder and pulling my hood up over my curls to protect them from the snow.

Truth is, I wasn’t ill. I felt fine. I was just confused at why he didn’t recognise me after all of those years of torture. Truth is, I didn’t know why my heart sunk slightly when he didn’t know it was me. Did I want him to know? I honestly didn’t know. For some reason I wanted him to know that it was me but my head was telling me that it wasn’t a good idea.

I couldn’t describe what I was feeling; I was just extremely confused with the events that had just occurred in the small coffee shop.

I pushed a few loose curls under my hood and dragged my converse along the concrete pavement as I made my way along the few streets I needed to pass to get home.  My lonely, unshared apartment.

I really needed a man in my life. Or to get laid at least. Only problem is, I wanted to save myself for someone special. But I think my ‘special man’ got hit with a bus or something. Either that or he missed it and is running incredibly late.

I dragged my heavy feet up the stairs to the 16th floor since the lift was broken again. I forced my key in the door and kicked it open since it was stiff because of the cold. I walked into my empty apartment, kicking my converse to the other side of the room, just missing the glass coffee table by centimetres. I walked through the living room and into my bedroom, not bothering to shut the bedroom door and flopped onto my bed with my face directly in my fluffy white pillow.

Why was I feeling like this? It’s not like were long lost friends, I despise of the bastard. He caused my teenage years to be hell and left me with the self-inflicted scars upon my left wrist which will haunt me for years.

For some reason I found myself screaming into my tear sodden pillow. I didn’t realise I had been crying until my curls were stuck to my pillow slightly because of the salty moisture that came from my tear ducts.