Insecure

Look what you've done to me.

Stockholm Syndrome- One Direction

"You can trust me Sara." Harry assures me again, still holding his hand out. The last time someone said that to me was when Michael took my virginity.

"I don't do trust Mr. Styles." I reply indifferently.

"Harry." He corrects me as I take in his appearance. He's wearing a lowcut tank top leaving more of his tattoos on display with a fedora.

Who the fuck wears a fedora nowadays?

"Come on, you can trust that I won't poison your food at least." He says smirking. I avoid his hand and walk over to his passenger seat before he could beat me to it. "You're supposed to let me open the door for you love." He teases.

"I don't think you're supposed to call me love Harry." I retort and am greeted with the most beautiful smile I've ever seen. "What?"

"You finally called me Harry." He says smirking. "In my culture love is a form of endearment but doesn't necessarily mean there is a romantic meaning behind it." Harry explains. "Plus I'm too young to be your type." He adds teasingly.

"How old are you?" I ask curiously.

"I'm 22, in England we start college at 16  but I had skipped ahead two grades when I was younger so by the time I was 16 I almost had my bachelors done." He explains.

"You some kind of brainiac?"

"Takes one to know one Sara, I've seen your scores. You are incredibly smart." He praises.

"Too bad it's a waste, all I've ever amount to is an accountant." I mutter as Harry pulls into a diner.He jumps out and rounds his car before opening my door, after entering the diner an older waitress seats us and leaves us with our menus. My stomach growls but I really don't want to eat.

"What can I get for you two?" The waitress asks after walking back over with some waters.

"After you love." Harry motions causing me to roll my eyes.

"Can I just get an egg white scramble with a side of fruit and a cup of black coffee." I ask politely as both the waitress and Harry look at me in surprise.

Harry begins to ramble off his order but I find myself fascinated by his lips, they are so pink but free of any makeup or anything. I would kill for lips like that.

"Sara did you hear me?" Harry asks as the waitress walks away.

"No sorry, what?"

"When is the last time you ate?" He asks concerned.

"Last night."

Lie.

"Why don't I believe you?" He challenges.

"Because you have trust issues?" I counter earning a chuckle from him. "I made spaghetti, there's left overs in the fridge at home if you don't believe me." I reply hoping he wouldn't want to make sure there was. If I brought another man into the house Michael would kill me.

"Just because you made it doesn't mean you ate it." He points out.

Fuck he's good.

"I know you struggle with insecurities Sara." He says quietly.

"Did you read that in my folder?" I snap raising a brow at him.

"No, I didn't actually. The way you dress, the way you carry yourself. The way you won't look me in my eyes." He says as he tilts his head down trying to make eye contact. "I have an older sister, Gemma. She's 4 years older then me and was extremely self conscious as a teenager. She would dress in baggy tops and wear leggings under her dresses or skirts." He explains.

"Just like me." I whisper and he nods grimly.

"She had a hard time seeing her beauty, seeing her self worth."

"What changed?" I ask.

"She started seeing a therapist, she showed her that what you see when you look in the mirror can be distorted, that your mind had a sick way of playing tricks on you. Gemma is actually the reason why I studied psychology. I saw the amazing change in her life and wanted to do that for other people." He continues as he pinches his bottom lip.

"What I see in the mirror is exactly what I am though." I sigh sadly and Harry furrows his brows.

"What do you see Sara?" He asks curiously.

"I see a girl who looks like she doesn't belong anywhere, she's too short and too chubby to actually land a decent guy. I see dull blue eyes and mousy straight brown hair. I see fat, my thighs jiggle, my stomach jiggles-"

"Jesus are you fucking blind?" Harry huffs interrupting me. "You wanna know what I see? I see a woman who's been so deeply hurt that she's scared to let anyone else in, I see a petite woman with all the right curves in the right places that if she dressed them correctly and owned it she would make the entire male population fall to their knees. I see beautiful deep blue eyes full of mystery framed by rich chocolate brown hair. Do you see how differently you describe yourself?" He pleads and I look down. "Why in God's name are you wearing a sweater and leggings with your uniform when it's this fucking hot out?" He asks with his voice full of frustration.

"I have scars." I whisper.

"Sara, we all have scars. Even though they can't always be seen." Harry says as he runs his hand through his hair.

"Do you?"

"I have one on my chin, the rest are all emotional you could say." He shrugs. "But I do have four nipples."

"Liar." I say in disbelief.

"No really!" He says smirking before pulling up his tank top and pointing them out. "See? One, two, three and four." He says pointing to the two marks on either side of his large butterfly tattoo.

"I don't think most school counselors go around showing students their nipples Mr. Styles." I tease as he laughs.

"We'll keep it between the two of us then love?" He replies smiling and I nod softly

"Here you go darlings." The waitress says as she places my simple plate in front of me and then three full plates in front of Harry. "Enjoy!" She says before walking off as I look at Harry in disbelief.

"What?" He asks nonchalantly as he pokes at a pancake.

"I don't think I've ever seen someone order so much." I reply softly.

"I just came from the gym and worked up an appetite, plus breakfast is the most important meal of the day. You should know this." Harry says shrugging as he bites into a piece of bacon.

Fuck that looks good.

I can't remember the last time I had bacon, it was one of my favorites before the accident.... Before my body changed.

I take a bite of my egg whites and secretly wish it was a piece of bacon. Harry chuckles at me and tosses a piece on my plate.

"You cannot expect me to believe you actually like eating egg whites." He says as I stare at the tantalizing piece of pork.

"I can't."

"Are you Jewish?" He asks and I shake my head no. "Are you allergic to pork?" I shake my head no again.

"Then yes you can Sara."