I Do

Chapter 5

Chapter 5 *Now*

-Arabella-

I remember my first relationship, the first time the words 'I love you' spilled from my mouth. It was in primary school, and his name was Andrew Thomas. I can still picture his satiny tan skin and floppy black hair, and the way his lips curved up every time he smiled at me. He always slipped me answers during our weekly spelling tests and allowed me to sneak in front on him in the lunch line.

I swiftly learned that few relationships are actually meaningful. Yes, Andrew attracted me, and I may have confessed that I loved him, but the real point was that he willingly agreed to whatever I asked of him. Following that relationship was one with Scott Kingsley, who was jaw-droppingly handsome and always shared the dessert his mother packed in his lunch.

The pattern continued, and each of my boyfriends had something to offer, whether it was wealth or fame or accurate test answers. Even for Harry, it took a little recognition to be worthy. I know, I know, that sounds terrible, but it isn't. See, relationships depend on consistency, and I consistently expect a lad who actually deserves me.

The thing is, I have more experience with being loved than loving. During nearly all my relationships, the boy would claim he loved me, but for the most part, it was unrequited. Something about the concept of loving someone seems impossible. But if it is, if true love exists in this world, then my heart belongs to Harry Styles.

I giggle up at Harry, gently brushing a few cake crumbs from his mouth. Impulsively, he guides my head towards him so that my tingling lips meet his tantalizingly delicious ones. My eyes flit back and forth, skimming the darkness surrounding us. Despite the summer heat, I shiver and draw back as he attempts to deepen the kiss. I'm not one to deny PDA, but not in the mood for making out on an exposed park bench with no evidence of media, anywhere.

He sighs and I snuggle in closer to him, winding my arms around his waist as he drapes his muscular arm over my shoulder. If someone were to jog past us right now, the first thing they would recognize wouldn't be Harry's fame or my beauty, but that we're such a perfect couple. We click, like a key in a lock.

"Harry?" I mumble, propping my head up on his chest and smiling softly to myself.

"Mmm?"

"I think we're meant to be," I confide. It's the truth. Harry is the one: famous, wealthy, handsome, charming, and desirable. He adores and spoils me, he's talented, his friends adore me, he's successful. All the qualities I expect.

He tilts my head so it faces his. The instant Harry's eyes meet mine, sparks spurt through the muggy Florida air. He looks unbelievably content. But something in his expression makes me hesitate. Something... uncertain.

He sucks in a deep breath and the tension vibrating through my nerves doubles, zapping my cells and sending my stomach butterflies into a frenzy. My palms, normally silky and smooth, feel clammy and I gulp back a huge lump in my throat.

Why am I panicking? Boys have never made me panic. It's reverse, usually- they're the ones who's stomachs get jittery. Even with Harry, I'm the calm, collected one.

His stunning, glimmering green eyes search mine, evaporating my fear and leaving me breathless. My senses are in overdrive. "I need to talk to you."

-Hallie-

I curl contently into my thick white comforter, appreciating the crisp, freshness of the sheets as I watch Lindsey Lohan snap a plastic crown into two. It's just... plastic. The words coax a smile onto my lips even though I know that, unlike the Plastics, Arabella is made of solid, relentless, undefeated iron.

From the moment we arrived to America, Harry and Ar have been inseparable: interlacing with one another's hands, exchanging tender kisses and secretive whispers. This evening, Harry spontaneously whisked her away to some elegant Italian restaurant, allowing me the opportunity to escape their presence and sulk. For whatever reason, their loving reunion makes me resent Ar even more.

I was perfectly prepared to spend a lonely night in bed, sob-texting to Zayn as he struggled to lift my spirits and, perhaps, persuade me that things will change. He always manages to, which is a relief since overly emotional and dramatic behavior is utterly exhausting. Harabella just draws out that characteristic and, try as I may, I lack the control to fight it.

Fortunately, I discovered Mean Girls on ABC Family and, despite having the plot memorized, have enjoyed watching Regina's reign come to a halt. Unfortunately, I can't exactly run over Arabella with a bus.

As the credits begin to crawl along the screen, I switch the television off, burying my face in the refreshingly soft pillow. Riding in an airplane for ten hours mixed with a broken heart is enough to make my eyes drift closed within minutes, ignoring the warm glow emitted from the lamps.

The click of my hotel room door wakes me, and I crack my eyes. Through the slits, I watch Ara slip inside, shutting it softly behind her. She appears exhilarated and exhausted all at once as she tiptoes towards me, her lipstick smudged and face paler than normal.

"Hallie," she hisses, tugging at the comforter. I don't budge, not interested in hearing a detailed story about their oh-so romantic date. "I need to talk to you. Something happened, with me and Harry."

Her words fizzle with startling clarity in my brain, like a dose of caffeine. Despite myself, I abruptly jolt upright, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "What do you want, Ar? I'm dead tired," I grumble sleepily.

"Something happened with me and Harry," she repeats, chewing unsteadily on her lip. My stomach churns and burbles helplessly, clinging to the simple hope that it's been a nasty breakup and there's no chance they'll be together, ever again. That, perhaps, the smoldering regret that constantly sears my veins will vanish; that finally, I might be the irresistible girl who captures his heart.

"What?" I snap peevishly, crossing my arms firmly across my T-shirted chest, trying to suppress the anticipation that ferociously suffocates me. Oh please, oh please, oh please.

Ara sucks in a harsh breath, shaking wisps of hair out of her eyes, and with dancing eyes, she lifts her hand into the air. She wiggles it playfully so that the delicate, dazzling diamond ring which is glistening there catches the light, shooting brilliant sparkles all around.

"He asked me to marry him."

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