Ambition || Harry Styles

*24*

Katie called early the next morning, apologising profusely for letting me go home alone and leaving me to fend for myself for so long at the party.

I didn't tell her about Harry and the other girl I saw him talking to or my offer to him afterwards or the argument that followed. I'm embarrassed about it enough without her, and probably Liam, knowing as well.

She was nervous about how I would feel about her and Liam and swore it wouldn't become an issue at work, but I assured her I didn't mind. 

Maybe I'm emotionally drained or too tired, but right now, I just want them to be happy and if that gets in the way of work, then so be it.

She couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth any more than I could, and my sentiment made her worry about me even more.

Why has Harry affected me so much? It ended before it even began and I have no reason to be as emotionally invested in someone who was never even mine to begin with.

I'm so disappointed in myself for feeling so low about something that was just a dream I had created, just wishful thinking and I let my imagination get the best of me when it was leaps and bounds from reality.

He doesn't want me, he never has, and although I thought I felt something for him, it was all just a prefabrication of my mind. Something I liked the idea of, not the truth.

I spent the rest of the day sleeping off my hangover, smoking way too many cigarettes and feeling downright sorry for myself as I replayed the night, and almost every interaction I have had with Harry to date, over and over in my mind.

One moment, I was wondering how could I have mixed up the signals so badly, confused his intention so much, not just been okay with being friends? The next, I was shaking my head at the near kiss in the rain, the way he calls me 'baby,' the fact he still hasn't actually said, "I just want to be friends."

Maybe he doesn't need to say it. Not now, anyway.

I cringe at my brazen invitation last night to sleep with me just once and his rollercoaster of a rejection.

I'm halfway through re-runs of my favourite show when the doorbell echos through my apartment.

My heart catapults into my chest, praying to anyone listening that it's Katie coming to check on me and apologise unnecessarily again and not the wolf in sheep's clothing with piercing green eyes and perfect pink lips.

"Hello," my voice is hoarse from crying all day and I'm positive I look worse than I sound, my feet in fluffy yellow slippers, my ugliest but comfiest plaid pyjamas on and my hair in a messy top knot with a fluorescent pink hair tie that Katie must have left behind last night.

"Can I come up?" Harry sombre voice ricochets off my hollow heart and I smackdown that bullshit glimmer of hope that my subconscious can't seem to fucking let go of.

I want to snap back with something hostile and quick-witted, but I'm so drained. I'm ready to say goodbye to him forever which I'm assuming he is here explain. I'm sure he's about to tell me how inappropriate my behaviour was, how I've ruined our friendship and maybe even suggest I get some sort of help for my fucked up personality.

"Yeah," I croak, buzzing him up and shuffling my way to the door, not giving a shit anymore about how I look or how he perceives me, the damage has been done.

I open the door to Harry in black sweats, his hair in a bun, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. 

Did he go back to the party after we spoke?

Silence fills the air as he takes in my dishevelled appearance but I'm too disheartened to let it affect me.

He tilts his head to the side and chews the inside corner of his lips, taking in a deep lingering breath as he tries to find whatever words he is searching for and I notice a hand reaching up to cover his heart.