This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 30

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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"I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, but I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it.

I hoped you'd see my face, and that you'd be reminded that for me, it isn't over...."

Adele | Someone Like You

The Zombie's "The Way I Feel Inside" whispered about the cab of the car as I awoke from the best sleep I'd had in weeks (better than at home in the comfort of my bed.) I shut my eyes and lay back in the seat, which I had reclined as far as it would go, surrendering to my lazybones and absorbing the tranquil lyrics.

They spoke for me. Making an appeal on my behalf, voicing things I was unable to articulate even in the chamber of my own thoughts. When the track finished, I looped it back several times, before relenting and allowing it to progress to Corrine Bailey Rae's "Like A Star," "Enchantment," and "Trouble Sleeping."

It was before sunrise, and the sky was a faint gradient color that reminded me of an apricot; the kind my mother always fetched from the market and told me not to touch until they'd ripened. I could almost feel their waxy textures against my tongue now; and the tangy aftertaste that sometimes stung my jaws long after I'd eaten them.

Today was already unreasonable. I hadn't calculated my next move, and now cursed myself for being shortsighted and impulsive; a deadly combination. Everything could shift in one false move if I weren't careful. I had to weigh my options—although no amount of rationalizing seemed to help me step beyond the notion that I needed to see him right away. I would demand to see him. It was my right.

Now all there was left to do was wait until a more appropriate time of morning, so as not to incite his ire. I shifted my weight to get more comfortable, rolling down the window for a wisp of air not stifled by my honeysuckle car freshener, which I regretted purchasing. Right away I detected the strong fragrance of a freshly mown lawn from afar, and wasn't long in spotting the contraption humming and rumbling across a neighboring yard.

The calm before the storm. I had no idea why I was there—in this neighborhood, outside of this house—or what my next move should be. Time would tell. Being tactical had gone out of the window last night with every bit of my resolve to remain modest. I was officially stalking him now, and yet more troubling was the fact that I felt nothing akin to the compunction that should have contested this decision. Some ugly and petulant thing had convinced me I had a right to be there. That I'd earned the right to pursue him at all costs.

My thoughts were shortly dissolved by a coughing fit that made my ribs ache, and in the end I was grateful to see I wasn't terribly hungover. That was the bad news though. My takeaway, I was becoming a heavyweight drinker—less and less affected by these binges which were increasing in frequency. The thought alone alarmed me, so I shoved the empty bottle away, sending it flying onto the passenger seat floor like it had been set aflame.

Now I watched the stillness of the neighborhood sigh around me, craning my neck to look up from the reclined seat with one eye. No cars had passed since I awakened, and I wondered when this particular block came to life each day. It was just a little after 6AM, and the birds and landscapers were the only souls present to keep me company.