The state I'm in COMPLETED

What to do

The first thing I needed to do was talk to Leo.

I dialed his number, barely waiting for him to pick up before demanding answers.

He answered after only a few rings, his tone already resigned.

"So he told you..." he said, not even bothering with a hello.

I exhaled sharply, my grip on the phone tightening. "Why didn't you say anything, Leo?"

"It wasn't my place to say, Val." His voice was uncharacteristically serious. "What was I supposed to do? He likes you. He really likes you. Do you have any idea what that means?"

He let out a humorless chuckle, but there was frustration in his voice.

"For fuck's sake, he hasn't even looked at another girl for an entire year. And then boom—call her, ask her to meet up, let's go see her, I fucking miss her. Tell me, Val—what the hell was I supposed to do? He was miserable when he didn't see you before you left for uni. He begged me to come with him to visit you."

He was breathless by the end of his rant, but I could tell he didn't expect an answer.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. "I... I don't know what to do, Leo."

"Don't ask me, Val. You know what to do."

His words struck me hard.

"Do you have any idea how many girls throw themselves at him every time we go out? The only reason he even goes is because I drag him. And he hasn't once looked at any of them. Not until you came along."

There was a long pause, then—

"So tell me, Val... do you like him or not?"

I closed my eyes.

"Because if you do," Leo continued, "then stop overthinking it and pull your shit together. No one can decide for you."

And I knew he was right.

I spent an hour in the shower, trying to clear my thoughts. It didn't work.

Afterward, I wrapped myself in a towel, turned on my CD player, and let the music drown out my thoughts that were out of control.

It didn't work, either.

With a sigh, I got dressed—choosing a black mini dress, my black boots, and straightening my hair until it looked sleek and effortless.

I had just grabbed my car keys when my phone rang.

I hesitated, glancing at the screen.

A number I didn't recognize.

Something in my gut told me I needed to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hello. May I speak with Valerie, please?"

The voice on the other end was deep. Older.

I straightened up. "This is Valerie."

"Please excuse my intrusion. This is George Styles—Harry's father."

I froze.

"I'm calling to ask you a favor, dear," he continued smoothly, as if he were discussing something casual. "You see, I insisted that Harry talk to you before things got... more serious."