25 Days With Mr. Arrogant - A Harry Styles fanfiction

CHAPTER 25:

Rather than occupying my time laying in bed obsessing over my thoughts of what had just transpired with Harry and Liam, I instead went straight for my laptop after coming home to my empty, cold apartment. It was strange walking through the small space of the living area and kitchenette; I'd been so accustomed to the aroma of cookies baking and the sound of my former roommate's bubbly voice echoing through the air, greeting me emphatically regardless of my mood or demeanor. But this time, upon arriving home to what was possibly the worst day of my life - and yes, it far surpassed my embarrassing split with Cole over a month ago - I came back to darkness. I dumped my keys and coat unceremoniously onto the rickety table, flipping on the light switch to cast a light glow over my bleak surroundings. Glancing around at the pathetically furnished living room, I sighed softly. I was alone.

It didn't help that I proceeded to frantically search through endless pages of information regarding Harry and Liam and their not-so-mediocre band. I felt a wave of sickness wash through me as I found that the name "Harry Styles" had nearly seven billion results in a millisecond. This was real - he was the real deal, I soon realized. As I scrolled through seemingly never-ending images of Harry and his best friends, I found myself smiling sadly as photos of a much younger jackass met my tired gaze. The upswept wave of curls was gone, and was replaced by long locks just hanging. However, his lips still maintained the fullness I'd been used to seeing. The same full, soft mouth that had spewed hatred at me and had snarled at me and had fucking kissed me. I willed myself to shake the memory of Harry's mouth parting against mine roughly, of his tongue darting out to stroke against mine with every movement. I shuddered.

And then there was Liam. I laughed out loud a few times at the sight of him, because while he looked so young and had the same sweet smile decorating his lips, his appearance hadn’t drastically changed since. The only thing that had seemed to change was that he'd manage to grow a beard. Unlike Harry, who's cheeks still were sleek and soft. Ugh… Harry.

Liam was still just as slender, and wore simple jeans paired with vibrant tee's. They both looked so young and innocent, and I realized as I flipped through page after page of facts and concert photos and news bits that I must have been the most God-damned oblivious dumbass on this planet. How the hell could I not realize that the man I was cleaning for and bringing food to was a superstar and that his friend, with whom I'd become so close with, was a singer for an internationally sensational band?

I felt like a complete fool as I clicked through YouTube segments showcasing some of their live performances as tears tickled the ducts of my eyes. I felt like a wheepy, unstable little crybaby as I felt a sudden surge of emotion overcome me. Their music wasn't my scene, that was for sure, but the way they performed and sang and brought an audience of thousands to their mercy was incredible. The way Harry's long fingers - the fingers I'd held and had been gripping my arm - held the mic and let the shockingly beautiful and raspy voice of his become a melody - was indescribable.

I forced myself to click out of the pages and stood up, dragging my feet to my bed and sluggishly dropping into the warmth of my blankets and pillows. Pressing my flushed face into the bed, I sighed shakily. I knew for sure now that Liam and Harry had both been keeping that secret from me, there was no chance to rely on denial any longer. What hurt more, though, was seeing Harry's handsome features and his musical ability and knowing that he'd lied not only about his status in the music industry, but about that fucking ridiculous car. How could he do that to me? I shook my head roughly, inwardly begging myself to remove any thoughts of him from my brain, but this only made the images of Harry's face flood faster through my mind. His youthful countenance, that typical arrogant smirk tugging at his mouth - all of it was too much. I was hopelessly, desperately in love with him. I would do anything to go back in time and not meet him - he'd crushed me beyond repair.

Sleep did not come easy.

When I awoke a few hours later, the sound of someone - or something - shuffling around my bedroom met my ears. Still groggy from sleep, I remained still under my blankets, a brief feeling of panic jolting me. I swallowed hard, listening closer, and heard the assumed person pull my computer chair out and sit. My jaw clenched, and I held my breath, waiting with fear for any further indication of if I was crazy and hearing something or if a person was actually in my room with me. I heard a hoarse cough.

Oh, God. Had someone broken in?

Afraid to move, I finally heard a verbal noise from the intruder - a deep laugh combined with a heavy sigh. The person spoke.

"Alex, you can stop pretending you're dead."

I exhaled shakily, relief filling me as I recognized the voice. Rolling over slowly, I rubbed at my eyes and glanced over at my desk where he was sitting, his back to me and his fingers clicking rapidly on my mouse through my computer.

"You scared me, Vic," I murmured through a yawn. "And what're you doing on my computer?"

"Nevermind that," he replied, still scrolling through webpages that I couldn't identify due to my still-slightly blurred vision. "The better question is what would you do if someone had broken in? It's good to know you'd lay there like an idiot and wait to be raped, I mean really, Alex?"

I yawned, sitting up and pushing the blanket to my waist as I narrowed my eyes at my best friend. "How did you get in here, anyway? You better not have broken the lock or anything - "

"Oh, shush," he waved me off with a hand. "Not like that shitty lock would be so hard to crack to begin with… but the door was actually open, you moron." He turned to glance at me, eyeing me with disapproval. "What am I going to do with you? You have the common sense of a brick wall."

"Shut up," I mumbled, leaning forward to get a better look at what he was so intrigued with on my computer. My eyes widened slightly upon the realization that he'd gone through my history of pages about Harry and Liam I'd spend hours looking through last night. "What are you - "

"What am I doing? What are you doing, Alex? You have almost two hundred pages about this douchebag - " he paused, clicking to a particular site. Clearing his throat, he read aloud the printed words on the screen. "Twenty facts you didn't know about Harry Styles. Number one… he peels the banana from the other end. Two… He’s born in the year 1994. Three… one of his favorite artists is Stevie Wonder, number four…"

I attempted to drone Victor's voice out as he continued to ridicule me unmercifully. Rubbing my eyes roughly, I inhaled and exhaled deeply, on the verge of exploding with how irritating Vic was being just tossing all of my embarrassing findings into my face. Yet, he continued.

"…Six… he once used ductape to fix his broken pants - "

"Just stop already!" I finally burst out, glaring daggers at my best friend. His eyes widened for a moment before he rolled them, and he spun around in my chair to face me.

"Well number six is something you already know, I'd hope. Just look at the guy - "

"Victor," I groaned, pressing my face into my open palms and shaking my head. "Just stop, I get it. I don't want to hear anymore."

"Fine, but you do realize I'm doing this out of love for you, right?" He pressed. A moment later I felt his hand on top of my leg, caressing it gently with compassion. "I mean, what you're doing can't be healthy, honey."

I looked up then, tears threatening to form in my eyes once again, and inhaled sharply. "You think I don't know that? You think I want to obsess over him like this and learn about his secret life through the internet? No - but he couldn't even tell me the god-damn truth - he lied to my face, Victor. "

"I can kind of understand why, I mean he wanted to stay low-profile - "

"I don't care," I interrupted, letting my body fall back into the blankets beneath me. Staring up at the ceiling, I swallowed thickly against the dry bulge in my throat. "That wasn't all he lied about."

Short silence.

"What do you mean?"

Closing my eyes tightly, the image of that damn car receipt and the inky blocked lettering scrawled across it was forever burned into my memories. I could never forgive him.

"Harry wrote up that ridiculous contract under the conditions that I'd damaged his car," I began, my words slow and cautious as I attempted to maintain composure. "He told me from the beginning the the repair would cost around three thousand bucks."

Vic let out a low whistle. "Must have been a pretty swanky car."

"The dent was smaller than the tip of my fingernail," I continued. "I found a receipt yesterday, after confronting his brother - " I paused, breathing in steadily. "It wasn't three thousand dollars."

"Was it two thousand, then?"

"Not even close."

"Eight-hundred?"

"Lower."

"Oh jeez, umm… four hundred?"

"…Lower."

"Alex, you have to be shitting me, this is getting low - "

"Keep guessing, Vic."

"Two…two-hundred?"

"Seventy-five."

"…Please tell me you're joking. Seventy-five dollars?"

I opened my eyes, peering at him with a malicious gaze. "No, Vic, seventy-five oranges - what the hell do you think? Yes, dollars."

His eyes were wide then, his mouth slack, and he stared at me wordlessly for a moment. "I-I don't know what to say."

"How do you think I feel?" I spoke, licking at my chapped lower lip. "He completely screwed me in every way possible. I've never felt so humiliated in my life."

"I hope you told him off, honey," Vic replied, crossing his arms firmly across his chest. "Because there's no excuse not to."

"Yeah," I said through a broken, dry laugh. "Yeah, I told him off."

"Did he respond? I mean, like - did he care?"

I shrugged. "I'm pretty sure he was crying when I was leaving, I think I heard it before I slammed the door shut."

"Crying?" Vic repeated incredulously. "No fucking way. Alex!"

I glanced at him, furrowing my eyebrows in slight confusion. "What?"

Vic leaned forward, eyes still wide and soft and his facial features nowhere near as hard and judgmental as they usually were. "Alex, I may be gay, but I'm still male… and listen to me carefully, okay? A guy doesn't just cry for no reason. It better be a big fucking reason for any guy I know to shed a tear… and he especially won't cry over a girl."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that this guy may have been the biggest fucking asshole alive in the sense that he lied to you and kind of verbally abused you on a regular basis … but Alex, he cried over you." Leaning forward, Vic rubbed slow, soft circles into my lower leg through the blanket with the pad of this thumb. "He cares about you, honey."

I felt tears well in my eyes after Vic's words rang out in a soft echo within the small confines of my bedroom. They certainly had an impact on me as my mind absorbed each little detail of them. I knew Harry must have cared for me to some extent, but I always convinced myself it was purely sexual and reliant on lust alone. Hearing my best friend affirm what I'd longed for and feared all at once was so emotionally debilitating that the tears that had formed in the corners of my eyes soon began to roll their wet, hot trails down my face.

"Oh, sweetheart - " He stood quickly at the sound of a tiny sob breaking from my throat and sat down beside me, his entire hand coming to grasp gently at my arm. "I didn't mean to make you cry, honey - Alex, please don't cry."

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be crying.. I shouldn't feel the w-way I do about h-him," I sniffled, dabbing at the wetness on my face with the hem of my sleeve. "I love him, Vic."

It was his turn to sigh then, the pressure of his fingers on my arm increasing. "I know you do."

We were quiet for what seemed to be eternity. I was sniffling against further tears every once in awhile and Vic was sitting patiently with me, stroking my arm in an effort to provide support as my best friend. After the seemingly everlasting minutes that progressed, he stood up slowly and walked to my desk, hunching over and clicking on the mouse.

"I'm going to turn this bad boy off," he explained over his shoulder to me, and I saw window-after-window of webpages slowly begin to disappear. "It's not helpful to look - whoa, what's this?"

I peered up at him, still rubbing at the soft skin under my eyes. "What?"

He was quiet for a moment, his eyes flitting over the page opened, his mouth moving silently to form words. He glanced over at me. "Is this from the internship agency?"

"What? Oh… yeah," I nodded, squinting at the bright screen. "They sent me an email and offered me a position at a small university newspaper in - "

"New York?!" His response was practically a scream, and as he jumped up and back away from the screen, eyes wide, his hands came up to his mouth. "The fucking Big Apple - oh my, oh my god, I might faint…"

It felt nice to smile again, and when I did, a pleasant warmth spread through me and helped deteriorate some of the bitterness and achy discomfort that had consumed me for the past day. 

"You sound more excited about this than I do," I teased.

He turned around sharply, hands still over his mouth and eyes still crazily erratic as he was practically bouncing from one foot to the other. "Of course I'm excited!" he exclaimed in a slur of muffled words behind his palms. He let his hands drop to his side, his mouth gaping open slightly. "My best friend is going to be living in New York! Meaning her best friend in the whole world who just happens to be gay will be obliged to visit her and take advantage of the shopping opportunities and the gorgeous men - "

"I don't even know if I'm taking it for sure yet."

His eyes widened further and a look of horror replaced the one of excitement over his face. He let out an exaggerated, rather unpleasant gasping sound and shook his head quickly. "Not taking it, are you on drugs, woman? Why the hell wouldn't you take advantage of the chance to live in New - "

"Fucking York," I finished for him with a playful smile, laughing slightly. "I was offered to intern either there or in Mount Horeb."

Vic made a face. "Mount what?"

"Horeb."

"Where the fuck's that?"

I grinned. "Wisconsin."

"Oh, that's great," he sneered, throwing his hands up in the air. "You're willing to throw away an opportunity to live in the grand city so you can what, roll around the grass with some cows? Eat cheese curds? Run around in overalls and cowboy boots?" He wrinkled his nose, pressing his hand to his mouth. Closing his eyes, he let his hand drop. "Oh, God. I absolutely do not, I repeat, do not look good in cowboy boots."

"I'm pretty sure they don't wear cowboy boots in Wisconsin, Vic, but nice try - "

"Oh, whatever! I will kill you if you choose some ho-dunk little hick town over the sophistry of the Big Apple, I swear I will - "

As he continued ranting, I was able to break my attention from him as my phone made a small ding on the small table beside my bed. Frowning, I reached over and picked it up, glancing at the front screen. My heart almost dropped.

"Alex, are you even listening to me - " he paused, stepping forward. "Oh, God - is that him? Did he text you?"

I just stared at my phone, nodding quietly.He reached for it and successfully wrenched it from my fingers after my reflexes failed me. Narrowing his eyes down at the screen, he opened his mouth.

"Meet me at our spot tonight. Six PM." He looked up at me, confusion written over his soft visage. "Where the hell is "our place"? I thought you two only spent time at his apartment."

I swallowed hard, my hand resting atop my thigh and trembling. "I assume it's the back alley that I damaged his car."

"Are you going to go?"

I sighed, chewing my lower lip gently. "I don't know."

"I think you should," he pressed in a quiet voice. "Especially if you're leaving LA, you should at least give him some closure."

"I'm scared," I admitted softly, looking down at my lap. "I don't know what I'll say to him."

"Well that's easy," Vic smiled, crouching down to look me in the eye. "Tell him the truth."

If only it were to be that easy.