The Foster Girl || Harry Styles

- 39 -

“Breakfast is in ten minutes,” Teresa reminds me. “It would be great if you would quit hogging the mirror. I need to get ready too.” I roll my eyes and move out of the way. I’m not in the mood to argue.

“Nicole,” Bridget says, knocking on the wall outside my door. It was open. I don’t see why she needed to knock, but okay. Bridget is another staff member by the way. I think she’s one of the nicest here.

“Yeah?” I say. That’s another thing. There’s no privacy or personal space here. I can hardly find time to myself. I guess it’s something I got used to while living with the Styles. It’s like being thrown back into the real world of foster care is a completely new life to me now.

“Someone’s here to see you,” she says with a knowing smile as she walks away. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I set my hairbrush on my bed and walk down the hall after her. I end up in the kitchen standing face to face with Jamie. I smile and hug her.

“Oh my gosh,” I murmur. “What are you doing here?”

“After our call yesterday I figured you could use a visit. Is it alright if we go for a ride to chat for a bit? I was thinking maybe we could go for breakfast at the diner down the street,” Jamie asks Bridget.

“Yes, of course. Have fun,” she says with a smile. I grin and follow Jamie outside to her car. Once we’re on the road I notice her unchanging smile.

“What are you all happy about?” I ask her.

“We’re heading back to my place,” she informs.

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

I didn’t press for more information. Instead I just sat silently as I gazed out the window. I was kind of looking forward to that breakfast she mentioned, but something tells me whatever she’s plotting is ten times better than a stack of pancakes on a rainy day.

When she parks the car we both exit the vehicle. I follow her inside. She heads straight back to the kitchen while I linger in the foyer.

“Do you want some tea or anything?” she calls.

“Waters fine,” I respond, glancing at the photos on the walls. I spotted one of Jamie and my mother when they were younger. Probably in their early twenties. It made me smile.

“Hey,” says a voice from behind me. A deep familiar voice. I whip around to spot Harry, and I froze in place.

 I had so much to say to him, yet nothing was coming out. I just stood there with my mouth open, unable to form words. I could tell just by looking at him that Jamie was right. He’s not the same. The brightness is drained from his eyes and the life is exhausted from his face. He looked just like Liam did when Melissa left. He looked broken.

“Harry,” I finally breathe out. I ran up and hugged him. He hugged me back tightly providing me with a sense of safety. I didn’t want to let go. When we finally pulled apart he still didn’t look happy. His expression was dead. “I missed you,” I tell him.