- 35 -

35.4K 1.2K 278
                                    

My voice was quieter now. I was finally chilling out.

“I would never write something like this. I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“If you didn’t write this, then who did?”

“Maybe Melissa?”

“No, she promised she wouldn’t.” Nothing was making sense. “You better not be lying to me,” I threaten. He holds his hands up in surrender.

“I’m not. I swear.” I look over his face, just to make sure. “It’s true that I would rather have you be my girlfriend instead of Harry’s, but I wouldn’t want you to move. I’m not a monster.”

I walk over and sit next to him, giving him a hug. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “For everything.”

“It’s not like you can change the past.”

“I know, but I’m sorry.”

He sighs and hugs me back. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t be sitting here feeling sorry for myself just because you love someone else.”

“I love you too,” I remind him. “Just in a different way. You still mean a lot to me, and if something were to happen to you I don’t know what I would do.”

“I know.”

“But if you didn’t write this, and Melissa didn’t write this, then who wrote it? The only other people who know are my mum and Gemma.”

“Maybe someone else found out,” he suggests. “The paparazzi can be sneaky, and judging by this photo I wouldn’t overlook the idea. Look at the quality. That’s got to be taken by a professional camera.”

He had a point. Looking closer it was a decent picture. Very clear and zoomed in. Like something you might find in a magazine.

“But why wouldn’t they just publish the news instead of trying to ruin our relationship?” I ask. It didn’t make sense. Don’t the paparazzi only care for money?

“Maybe someone else asked them to? People make deals with the paps all the time. It wouldn’t surprise me.”

I contemplated this for a few moments. Someone else must know and they have plans for sabotage. The only question is…who?

“I have to bring this up to Harry and Gemma. Maybe they can help us figure it out. Thanks for your help and….I’m sorry I accused you.”

“It’s okay,” he tells me. I give him another hug before grabbing the note with the picture and rushing out the door. On the ride home I tried to think of who could’ve done this. For some reason I feel like it should be blatantly obvious, but it’s just not coming to mind.

I parked the car in the driveway and hurried up the front steps. I didn’t even bother removing my shoes as I sprinted up the stairs to Harry’s room. He looked up from his phone seeming worried and concerned.

The Foster Girl || Harry StylesWhere stories live. Discover now