𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋! | harry styles

𝐗𝐕𝐈

MY eyes are puffy and swollen, sore from a night of tears, and a crying headache screams painfully across the front of my head and in my temples. Coupled with a restless sleep, it takes me a moment of disoriented blinking to remember where I am. Warm sheets that smell like Harry tell me I'm in his bed, and the pain in my head reminds me why.

I reach across the mattress for my phone, reading a message that appeared sometime after I finally fell asleep. It's an address for a penthouse in the city. I'm to be there Thursday at nine.

The throbbing in my head worsens for a moment as I think about what it means.

A million excuses run through my mind. Anything I can think of to tell Nick that I've changed my mind.

I'm sick.

Cody is sick.

A death in the family.

But no matter what I come up with, the end result is the same. He knows where I live, where I work when I'm not at Blush, about Cody, and who knows what else. I have no idea how much he knows about my life and the millions of ways he can destroy it. Leah's disappearance and the bruises forming on my upper arm are just a taste of what he could do to me. A break-in is just the beginning.

I clench my jaw in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Tossing the phone aside, I look around, taking in the minimal details of Harry's bedroom: the mattress on the floor, the dresser pressed against the far wall, its paint chipped and worn away in places. I imagine him lying where I am, his long legs tucked beneath the same sheets mine are, his head resting on the same pillow.

The top of his dresser is littered with gum wrappers and change, receipts and random other things that live in the pockets of jeans or jackets. A silver chain hangs from the corner of the mirror, thick and heavy, with a simple cross hanging from it. I rub a finger across its smooth surface before letting it drop back against the mirror. My hand lingers at the handle of the drawer beneath, but instead I press my lips together, suppressing the urge to delve a little deeper into the Harry mystery.

Barefoot, I steal away into his bathroom where I find more little pieces of the puzzle. Hair clippers, soap, mouthwash, aftershave, the latter of which I open to sniff, immediately feeling like a creep but still enjoying the smell of him intensified.

After I wash my face and rinse out my mouth, I slide my jeans back on and make the bed. As hard as it is to leave and face the day, I need to pick up Cody from the Eizadis' before they send out a search party.

Harry's tiny apartment is bathed in morning light, and in the bright light of day I'm startled at how small it is, how bare.

I pick up a clean glass from beside the sink. The kitchen tap whines and creaks, the pipes banging loudly as cold water splutters into a glass. I can't help but smile. At least I know the whole building has to deal with the same shitty water service that I do.

Standing at the sink, I let the sun warm my skin as I find the number for a local locksmith.

"We can have someone there today between twelve and four if you're home," says the guy on the phone.

I nod, swallowing a mouthful of water. "Any idea how much it's going to cost me?"

"Ah—hard to tell," he replies. "Depends on the lock and if you need to replace the door. Your insurance should cover it mostly."

My neck flushes with embarrassment, which I try to swallow through. "I don't have insurance."

The end of the line is quiet for a moment. I stare out the window above the kitchen sink. It faces the park across the street, affording a perfect view of the treetops. Much nicer than my view of the parking lot.