𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝒀𝒐𝒓𝒌 {𝑯.𝑺}

Chapter Thirty One | Thanks Mother

"So that's it?" Alice asked, staring at me with an incredulous expression. "He just leaves?"

I shrugged, running a hand through my hair.

"Mia..." She sighed, dragging my name out. "You've got to be kidding me."

I shrugged my shoulders once again. "He has a tour to complete, Alice."

"But..." Her posture crumbled in defeat. She was clearly disappointed. "You two were getting so close!"

"Yes, we were. But now it's time to move on with our lives."

Alice was the queen of overanalyzing everything, and it didn't seem like she wanted to hold back on this situation either. She pointed out every single detail about Harry's behavior towards me-whether it was intentional on his behalf or not.

I was beginning to feel like she wanted him to stay more than I did.

"Have you talked to him at least?" She asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"He called me this morning."

I was trying not to become glum. Harry left last night, and was in a completely different state now. He texted me an hour ago, and I happily replied back but he never answered. I chalked it up to him being unavailable; the tour life was a busy one after all.

But it still didn't suck any less that I couldn't talk to him whenever I wanted. I had selfishly fit him into my everyday routine-a dumb decision on my behalf.

A part of me felt silly for being so disappointed. I literally just saw him yesterday before he left for the airport, so I shouldn't feel so forlorn. But I guess that's what happens when you crush on someone like Harry.

"Hey, kiddo." My dad greeted, walking into the kitchen. "Alice." He smiled, turning to her.

"Rob," was her reply. She patted my dad on the shoulder. "Nice haircut!"

"Isn't it nice? Mia seems to think otherwise." He ruffled his hair-or what was left of it, at least.

"I just think your old hairstyle suits you better." I mumbled. And I was telling the truth. Aiden and I got our chocolate curls from Dad. At this point in his life, his hair was now salt and pepper. But my dad already had a hallowing face due to the amount of alcohol he was always consuming.

The curls suited his face better-it added extra weight to it and made him look younger. Now, he chopped it off into a buzz cut, which made his cheekbones appear too defined, and his cheeks sink in like concaves. But maybe he was trying to reinvent himself-to experience something new.

"What were you two talking about?" He asked, sitting down at the dining room table. I tried to ignore the smell of alcohol that oozed off of him.

He slid his combat boots off, leaving them in a heap before resting his feet on another chair. My eye twitched at the sight and I made a mental note to neatly place his shoes by the doorway once I got a chance.

"Harry." Alice smirked. She wiggled her eyebrows at me.

"Who's that?" He frowned.

"Harry Styles." She scoffed, looking at my father as if he had a third eye. "The Harry Styles."

He scrunched his eyebrows together, setting his eyes on me with distaste. "That ungrateful fucker you jumped in front of a bullet for?"