Blowing Smoke (Harry Styles)

Chapter 66

I was repeatedly thankful to Harry for saving my life, as anyone would typically be, though he was quite reluctant to accept my thanks, claiming that it was what he had to do. The scary memories of that night faded in and out of my mind constantly, how afraid and frantic I was, how terrified Harry was, how mentally sick I probably am. I needed help; my dad had very valid points on convincing me to get help as soon as we go home, wherever that is. The panic attack in the middle of the night exhausted my body to quite the feeble state, though I was able to sleep for twelve hours during that day in the library, waking up to the smell of warm chips. It was a beautiful way to wake up. The cooks had made us hamburgers and chips for dinner, I was wrong to be hesitant to eat the burgers because they were quite good.

“Do you want to have a bonfire tonight?” my dad asked us, looking around the table at the eager faces and full mouths that stared back at him. He kept a calm face, his mouth politely closed as his jaw moved in circular motions to chew the ground beef in his mouth. He watched us all through his small-framed glasses that proved to be much more of a burden than they were worth because he had to constantly tilt his head awkwardly to actually see out of them.

“Sounds good.” I muttered with a shrug of my shoulders when I had swallowed my mouthful of ketchup soaked chips.

I was quite afraid, to say the least, to fall asleep yet again. I was petrified over the fact that I could easily have a panic attack again. I could have died last night if it weren’t for Harry saving my fucking life. What if it happened again but he couldn’t save me? The idea of dying because of asphyxiation terrified me, what a horrible way to die. I just prayed that that wouldn’t be my fate.

“Yeah, it’ll just be like times in Cumbria.” Jake agreed with a cheerful nod.

What Jake said really brought my mind out from the thoughts of anxiety that came with sleeping and back to the times when life was utterly simple. I recall sleeping dreamless sleeps, sometimes with nightmares but rarely, and waking up to the beautiful sound of birds singing in the trees around the cottage.

I suddenly felt a strong urge to be outside and feel the sun on my skin, knowing that those rays on my tan flesh would be the very same that were on me years ago in Cumbria.

I excused myself suddenly from the table, saying that I will just go to lie down upstairs. I didn’t bother listening to my father’s protest because I quickly left the dining room.

I passed by a lot of servants and maids on my way up to my bedroom, to which I greeted each with a polite smile and nod. Once in my own room, I undressed from the pajamas that I had been wearing for nearly twenty-four hours and into my one and only bikini.

I grabbed my iPod and speaker from the suitcase and brought them out to the balcony with me, lying them down beside the cushioned lounging chair. I shut the screen door behind me, admiring the view of the ocean from here. And even though I had strong negative feelings towards the ocean, and I had ever right to, I still felt extremely drawn to its beauty that it offered and the potential for each wave to be the perfect ride on a surf board.

I lay myself down on one of the lawn chairs, craving to have the sun toast my skin to a beautiful gold brown. I readjusted myself on the chair so that all of my skin was in the sun.

I began to play my playlist of music entitled ‘Lazy, Lounging, Lost’ which included many songs for those lazy days, times when I was lounging about, and when I felt internally lost. It started on shuffle by playing Angel by Aerosmith, a song that I had grown to adore the more I heard it.

The electric guitar and drums blared through the small portable speaker, making me smile and the familiarity. Steven Tyler’s voice rang through once the music slowed down and quieted. I kept my eyes closed as I tanned, my foot tapping absentmindedly to the rhythm of the song, my nodding slightly as well.