Remember Me [harry styles] ✓

10 - Silence and sleeping arrangements

"We don't talk about it, it's something we don't do." 

If I had a list of my Top Ten Most Awkward Life Moments then this would definitely be one of them.

It's silent in the car. Aside from the hum of the engine and the driver clearing his throat every five seconds, it's silent. 

It's been silent since his Sweet Creature revelation.

I'd stared at Harry open mouthed after his announcement, racking my brain for something to say. I almost couldn't believe it. Almost refused to believe it.

That statement had given me more questions than it had answers, and I wasn't sure I was emotionally stable enough to ask any of them. Because if what Harry had said was true, then at some point I had been on his mind. And if I'd been on his mind, then he'd had an opportunity to contact me. 

Instead I'd remained mute, watching his frozen grimace as he braced himself for my reaction. We'd stayed that way until the air steward had informed us that it was time to prepare for landing. She hadn't seemed phased by our unconventional seating arrangements and the rest of Harry's crew barely seemed to acknowledge our reappearance.

We'd landed in silence.

Disembarked in silence.

And despite being hot on his heels anyway - strolled across the tarmac in silence.

The only time I'd wanted to converse with him was at the sight of a hoard of screeching teenagers making a beeline for us in Arrivals. They were a stampede of hormones and tears and lust, and it was like being at his concert all over again. But even then, I'd sucked it up, pretended it was all completely normal, and bitten my tongue - whilst holding in a guttural scream of genuine fear. 

Harry and I had been guided into one blacked-out vehicle with his bodyguard calling shotgun in the passenger seat, and everyone else had been divided up into two other cars. But even now, shrouded in the most privacy we've had since I arrived at Essendon airport, neither of us seems able to speak to the other.

I've never even heard this damn song. I don't know the words or the general theme. All I know is that a song is being played for thousands of people on an almost nightly basis for the best part of a year, and it's about me. I should be flattered. Or fainting, or squealing or plastering it all over social media, because that's what fangirls do, right? This is the sort of thing that makes it into quirky Instagram bios and YouTube Vlogs titled How I Made It Onto Harry Styles' Album. 

Except, I never wanted to make it onto Harry's album. I just wanted my friend back. 

The car comes to an abrupt stop and I blink up at the glowing sign outside the tinted window. It's almost dark now but the glass building is anything but easily missed. Valets linger in the hotel entrance with their white-gloved hands clasped firmly in front of them and their facial expressions as stoic as a Buckingham Palace guard. If I'm certain about anything, it's that I'm severely out of place here; in my Mom jeans and oversized Collingwood shirt. 

Harry's security steps out of the car and I tighten my grip on my duffel bag. I'd never even taken into consideration that an overnight bag would mean a hotel. But if me coming on this trip was last minute then-

"Harry, where am I going to sleep?" 

It's the first time I've addressed him since we scrambled out of the plane toilet. He looks shocked to hear my voice, as if he'd forgotten I was in the car. Perhaps he's just shocked that my first choice of conversational topic isn't about the song. He blinks at me, slowly, and then the corner of his mouth is twitching upwards.