Isabelle's P.O.V

I awoke early the next morning, the bleak winter light streaming through the glass doors that led to my balcony. I stood up, pulling on a pair of shorts, and grabbed an elastic band from my dresser, tying my hair up into a messy bun. Already knowing what I would look like, I padded over to my mirror and studied my face.

You could tell I’d been crying. My eyes were pink, the skin around them bloated, and my cheeks were pale and puffy. I tried wiping my eyes, but that did absolutely nothing to help the fact that I was a lost cause.

Maybe Harry won’t notice. Aren’t guys usually oblivious to girls’ crying anyways? With that thought in mind, I shot one last pitiful glance at myself in the mirror and slipped out of my room. The house was silent. All I could hear were the faint sounds of the heaters throughout the structure.

I went down the steps slowly, having now been here long enough to know that the bottom one creaked, so I jumped over it. I peeked into the kitchen, but no one was there. Where was Harry? I wondered as I aimlessly wandered the halls. Had he gone home last night?

But then I saw him. His tall frame was sprawled out on the same couch we’d watched the movie on yesterday. I couldn’t help but to smile slightly, even though I thought that he now doubted our relationship. His curly hair stood straight up on some parts of his head and hung down in front of his face in other parts. His mouth was propped open cutely and he snored lightly. I loved him, but then scolded myself not to think that. What if he didn’t feel the same way anymore?

I couldn’t stand not knowing. Rather than waiting for him to wake up, like I’d planned, I stalked over to him, shaking his shoulders.

“Hey,” I hissed, “Wake up.”

Fuck, was that too harsh? I didn’t know.

Harry groaned and rolled over, facing away from me, “Five more minutes mum,” he said, sighing lightly. I gritted my teeth, knowing that he’d never wake up if I didn’t go to extreme measures. Not wanting to but doing so anyways, I climbed atop him, straddling his waist, and leaned down, kissing his neck. I left a trail of soft, wet kisses up the length of his throat, knowing that this could possibly be the last time I’d get to do that. I could feel him smirk lightly as I finished with his neck and moved up, nipping at his earlobe lightly. He hummed in response, and I knew that he was awake now.

Then, without any kind of warning, I shrieked right in his ear. “Harry fucking Styles! Wake up!” He yelled and rolled out from under me, cursing loudly, and I couldn’t help but to feel smug. There, he deserved that after leaving me alone last night.

“Damn Isabelle,” he grinned sheepishly, sitting up from the floor and rubbing the back of his neck, “You sure know how to wake a bloke up. Poor bastard.” Was this his way of saying that I wouldn’t be waking him up anymore? That I would soon be with someone else? The thought scared me, and I stood, quickly walking out of the living room without another word.

“Hey!” Harry called out from the living room, but I kept on walking, trying furiously not to break down. I wiped my cheeks, even though I knew there was nothing there…yet.

“Isabelle!” I heard the sound a bit closer now, and I guessed that Harry had finally snapped out of it and come after me. I walked a bit faster.

The sound of quick footsteps was heard from behind me, and a moment later, I was being pressed gently up against the wall. Harry light green eyes bore into mine, full of confusion. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“What are we to you, Harry?” I asked, before he could do or say anything. The confusion in his orbs only seemed to escalate. “What?” he asked, slightly out of breath, “What brought this on?”

“What are we to you?” I snapped, a little bit agitated now, not answering his question. He raised an eyebrow, “You’re my girlfriend. I’m your boyfriend. That’s us.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, and I hate how my voice cracked on the last word. Harry looked at me, genuinely shocked, but I continued, “Do you want to break up? Just tell me, please.”

“What?” he stepped back, “No, Belle, of course not! And why have you been crying?” What? He noticed? Shit, I thought that he was just like any other regular guy.

But no, Harry wasn’t like any other guy, because he was so much more, so much more special to me. I loved him so much, and knowing that he possibly didn’t have the same feelings any more broke my heart into a million pieces.

“That doesn’t matter,” I snapped, a tear slipping down my face, “What is it? Do you not love me anymore? Is that why?”

“Why what?” he asked gently, and I hated how calm he was being about this.

“Why you didn’t sleep with me last night!” I yelled, “Goddammit Harry! Why didn’t you? Do you not feel the same way I do?”

Harry began laughing. A genuine, full out laugh. I stood there, my jaw hanging, but then quickly regained my composure, wiping at my eyes furiously.

I stomped my foot childishly, “Fine! You don’t want to answer me, fine!” I turned on my heel and began walking away at a brisk pace.

The laughing was cut off abruptly.

“Hey, Belle, no!” Harry called, and a moment later, he grabbed my hand, yanking me back around to look at him. I stared at the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze, but he gripped my chin and made me look up at him. “Is that what this is about?” he questioned, “Why I didn’t sleep with you?”

My silence was enough of a confirmation. He shook his head, sighing, and something boiled inside me, but I forced myself to keep quiet so that I could let him speak.

“God Isabelle,” he whispered, “I thought you didn’t want me to, okay?” The boiling disappeared immediately. “W-why?” I stuttered, and immediately mentally face-palmed. Why did I always have to sound like a kicked puppy? Why couldn’t I sound stronger?

“Because of what happened last night,” he muttered, and I knew that he was referring to our fight, “I meant what I said. I’m not good for you Isabelle. You can do so much better, and I don’t know why you just won’t realise it. You’re so stubborn,” he smirked lightly at the last part, and I wanted to cry. But then again, I already was.

“Please don’t say that,” I pleaded quietly with him, “Please don’t say that about yourself Harry. You’re so amazing, and I don’t know why you can’t see that. Why didn’t you just ask me if I didn’t want you to sleep with me?” My bottom lip quivered as Harry ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up. I wanted to run my fingers through it.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, and then chuckled, “See? There I go again, always messing shit up. I make you cry, I hurt you, and then you always forgive me. Why do you forgive me?”

“Because I love you,” I mumbled, wrapping my arms around him. He was a bit shocked when I pulled him in for a hug, but reciprocated after a moment. He nuzzled his face in my shoulder. “Please sleep with me,” I whispered into his chest, “Whenever we’re together for the night, I want you to sleep with me. Even when I’m mad at you, I don’t care. Please.”

Harry chuckled, “Of course. I’m sorry baby. I love you.” He called me baby. He said ‘I love you’.

I smiled, feeling complete, “I love you more.”

***
January 9th

It had been almost a week since we’d spoken to Dr. Grey. It was Saturday and we were going to see her again tomorrow. Needless to say, the therapist intimidated me a bit. I felt as though she was untrustworthy for some reason, and I felt wary about telling her my most intimate thoughts and concerns.

Harry had been amazing. On Tuesday and Thursday he had taken me out on sweet, adorable dates. On Tuesday he’d brought us to a quaint little restaurant for dinner. It didn’t sound like much, I know, but afterwards he’d taken me to a boat docking along the Thames, and we’d watched a firework show that they had put on that night. I remember it being super-romantic. I was all giggly that night.

On Thursday he’d taken me to an amusement park. This was a bit more public than our other date, so he had to wear a disguise. We’d gone on dozens of roller coasters, a few so high that I had to beg him to get on the cart. I really hoped the paparazzi wouldn’t bombard our date.

Nonetheless, a day after our amusement park date, a magazine—Tiger Beat (what are the odds?)—released a new issue. Harry and mine’s faces were plastered everywhere on the cover, leaving absolutely no room for any other juicy gossip about other celebrities. The caption on the magazine read, “Harrabelle Heating Up?” Harry and I had laughed at our stupid couple’s name after that. The magazine included the juicy details from both of our dates, a few pages dedicated to photos alone. The press really was crazy.

A few days ago, I’d hit the mall with Perrie, Eleanor, and Kate. We’d gone shopping, and by the end of the day, my arms felt as though they would fall off. The other girls also had trouble squeezing into a taxi what with all of the bags dangling from their forearms.

Today, it was about two in the afternoon, and I was browsing clothing racks at a lingerie shop with Kate. She’d insisted that we’d go shopping again, even though I had already pointed out that we’d bought a shitload of things on Wednesday. Of course, I caved, and we mounted into our car. She drove along the road for a few minutes, and we chatted aimlessly about anything and everything. She told me about her boyfriend of three years, Alex, (whom I still hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting) and I exchanged stories about Harry. It seemed like so long ago that we’d met, yet we’d only known each other for five weeks. Where had the time gone?

I got more nervous with each passing day. It was January 9th, which meant less than a week—six days, to be exact—until the second anniversary of my mother’s passing. I would probably be avoiding Harry that day. I didn’t want to burden him with an overly-emotional girlfriend.

“I still don’t understand why the fuck we came here,” I muttered under my breath. Kate swatted at my arm lightly, “Oh, live a little. Don’t you want to give Harry a nice surprise when he gets home?” she grinned wickedly at me. In a way, she sort of reminded me of Gemma Styles.

“Shut up,” I groaned, looking away. Kate didn’t know about the fact that Cameron had raped me. She didn’t know that I was wary about sex, and I planned to keep it that way. The only living person that knew was Harry, aside from my mother, but until I’d told Harry, the secret had been buried along with her.

“Well,” Kate said, shifting through black lace, “How are things with you and him? God, I still can’t believe you’re dating a member of One Direction.” I chuckled. That was the one thought that I woke up every morning with. I was so afraid that one day, I’d wake up, only to find that it had all been a dream. Life is cruel.

“They’re fine,” I shrugged, “We haven’t um…you know…done it yet.” I chewed on my bottom lip nervously. Kate turned to me, her eyes wide, dropping the panties she’d been holding,

“No fucking way,” she whispered.

I blushed, sifting through the lingerie, suddenly finding it very interesting, even though I’d blushed beet red when we’d pulled up to the store. I didn’t want the paps to catch pictures and then label me as a slut.

“Really?” Kate asked, her hands flying to her cheeks dramatically. God, even though she was twenty-five, she could still act like a teenager if she really wanted to. I nodded nervously.

“Yeah…we’re,” I paused, trying to word this in the best way, “…waiting for the right time, I guess.”

Kate nodded, but then smirked, “But have you done…anything? Anything at all?”

“Kate!” I said loudly, shoving her with my shoulder lightly, “That’s really none of your concern!”

Kate cackled, “So you have? Because Alex and I started having sex after a month of knowing each other. I’m surprised Harry has lasted this long without at least making an attempt to get into your pants.”

Holy crap, she was being so freaking loud!

“Lower your voice!” I hissed, looking around. A few older women were browsing the racks a couple meters away, and two teenage girls who resembled no more than sixteen were picking out random lacy bras and giggling madly. I scrunched up my nose in distaste.

“Sorry,” she snickered, and then went back to browsing, but she was smirking widely. I sighed, turning back to the rack.

“You should try this on,” she held up a pair of lace, fire-engine red panties.

I shook my head, “There is no way in hell I’m wearing those.”

She stomped her foot childishly, “Oh, come on! They’re your size too! Oh, and get the matching bra, it’ll look absolutely fabulous!” She reached for the two-piece set and pulled me over to the check-out counter. There was a skinny woman in front of us with dark hair. Her back was to us, and she was buying many sets of underwear and bras. I wondered what she could possibly need all of them for.

The cashier accepted her money, bagged her items, and handed them over the counter. The woman turned to us, and I did a double take. Red nails, with a horrendous matching lipstick, black hair and eyes. She caught a glimpse of me too, and shot me the smallest possible smirk.

Tanya.

Holy shit.

Notes

Here ya go babes, an update! I hope you enjoyed it, and tell me what you think will happen in the next chapter in the comments section!

I already know how this story is going to end, even though we are FAR FROM THE END, so don't worry. I'm just telling you, the way it ends practically begs for a sequel, so don't worry your pretty little heads about anything since I've got all this shit figured out XD

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That awkward moment when you scroll down and see porn on Tumblr...(so true!)

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