Dahlia’s Point of View

“So you’re telling me it won’t be here until Friday?” I snapped into the phone.

“Yes, Ma’am. We’re sorry for the inconvenience, but it’s the best we can do.”

I felt bad taking out my frustrations on the poor guy who was helping me, but I was angry and didn’t know what to do. I had shipped almost all of my things from my house back in London to my new apartment here, including my bed, and it was supposed to come today. Now I was stuck in an empty apartment, no furniture, no nothing, until Friday. Great.

All I knew was that I was exhausted from the long flight, and all I had was a suitcase full of clothes.

My luck was running thin, and got even thinner when Harry called. I had missed him while I was gone, but I was agitated, tired and wouldn’t be much fun to talk to at the moment.

I answered any way. I was too curious to know why he was calling. “Hello?”

“Hey, Lia. Are you home yet?”

Home. I repeated the word over in my head a few times. Was this really my home? I wasn’t sure what to call it, but I suppose it was my new home.

“Yeah, I just made it back to my apartment.”

“Oh, I could’ve picked you up from the airport.”

“It’s fine, thank you though.”

Harry didn’t say anything for at least twenty seconds, and when he finally did, his voice held a sense of hesitation. “Did you want to grab dinner?”

I knew I’d regret answering his call, because I also knew I wouldn’t turn down any offer he made. “Yeah, sounds good. Do you want to meet somewhere?”

“I’ll come pick you up. Be ready in a half hour.”

Once he hung up the phone, I dug into my suitcase and recovered the only clean pair of jeans I had and a long sleeved, grey top. The rest of my clothes had been boxed and shipped with everything else, so hopefully we weren’t going anywhere fancy.

True to his word, Harry showed up to my apartment thirty minutes after we’d ended our conversation. He looked as good as ever in his black jeans and a simple white tee.

“Wait,” I stopped walking when a thought crossed my mind. “How did you know where I lived? I didn’t tell you…”

“I did my research,” he smiled guiltily. I didn’t know what to make of that, so I just let it go. “How was your trip?”

“It was okay… exhausting. I’m glad to be back.”

Harry nodded and we began walking again to whatever restaurant he had in mind.

---

Hours later Harry and I walk back to my apartment, laughing and having a good time like we used to all of those years ago. In hindsight, I was glad I went out with him; my night had definitely turned out much better than the day had gone.

I even found myself dreading the part where Harry would say goodbye and leave my to myself in my lonely apartment. If tonight had done anything for me, it made me realize how much I missed our friendship, and it showed me that the feelings I had held for him since the moment I saw him have done nothing but grow.

My conscience was getting a good workout with all of the back and forth going on… Half of me knew it’d be bad to let things between us go any further than they are now, the other half was telling me now is my chance.

Oh how I wish someone could tell me the right thing to do.

All I knew was that ever since Louis’s accident, I was finally breathing easily again. When I was with Harry, I wasn’t dwelling on all of the negative in my life, but I was living in the moment; I was laughing and having a good time. I felt good.

“Lia?” Harry squeezed my hand, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Huh? Sorry.”

He chuckled. “What are you thinking about?”

I was thinking about how much I want to kiss you right now. “Nothing,” I blushed.

“Sure,” he teased. “So are you going to show me your apartment, or what?”

Oh fuck.

“It’s not much,” I told him truthfully. Even when I get my furniture in it and decorated, it won’t even come close to his beautiful penthouse apartment looking over Central Park.

“Show me,” he grinned, showing those damned dimples. He sure did know how to use those to his advantage…

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I sighed.

Harry took my hand again and pulled my into the building toward the elevator. We rode it to the seventeenth floor, and I led him to my door. I unlocked it for him and let him go in and look. Well, there wasn’t really much to look at.

“Where’s all your stuff?”

I pointed to the corner where my suitcase was being lived out of and smiled. “The rest won’t be here until Friday…”

A look passed over Harry’s features, and if I was correct, that look had been anger?

He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked at me. “And where were you going to sleep?”

“There’s a couch in the other room,” I shrugged. “My stuff was supposed to be delivered today. Apparently there was some mix up, but at least it’s only a couple of days,” I explain.

“You’re staying at my place.”

“Harry, it’s fine. The couch looks comfortable anyway,” I smiled.

As tempting as his offer was, I knew it was far too dangerous. I was at the point where I could hardly control myself, and I didn’t want to give myself the opportunity to ruin everything.

“No, Lia. I’m not letting you stay here with nothing. Pack up your suitcase.”

I stood, looking at him with my arms crossed, and he did the same. “Let’s go.”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Like hell it is. You should sue the company delivering your stuff. Now come on, I’ve got a guest room.”

Harry didn’t wait for me to move before stalking over to my suitcase and zipping it up. He stood it up, rolled it over to me, took my hand and led me out of my apartment without another word.

I locked the door before Harry practically dragged me back to the elevator and down to the lobby of my apartment building. We didn’t speak until we were in a cab back to his place.

“You’ll stay at my place until your things get here.”

Was he asking, or was that a demand? I wasn’t sure, but I nodded.

I had known Harry for many years, and I knew him pretty well. He was always such an easy going guy, always happy and loving life, so this harder, tougher side of him was surely a knew quality. I knew he didn’t mean to intimidate me or anything like that, but I’d never seen him life this.

“Hey,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. “Did I do something?”

Harry sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “No, Lia, you didn’t do anything.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He forced a smile, but I knew he was telling me the truth. I could tell by the way he squeezed my hand and held it the rest of the cab ride back to his place.



An hour later, Harry had lightened up and we were sitting together on the couch watching reruns of Lost.

“Do you have to work tomorrow?” I asked during a commercial break.

“Yeah,” he replied, getting up to go to the bathroom. “You should come with, or stop by my office. You can come meet the guy I want you to shoot. He’ll be in recording tomorrow.”

I smiled remembering Harry’s offer for another photography gig. “I’d love to.”

He smiled, leaving me to myself as he went to the bathroom. He returned a few minutes later, and we resumed watching the show. I wasn’t thinking about how dangerous this was, but rather how comfortable and safe I felt.

That feeling increased when Harry shifted so we were laying on our sides, spooning, facing the TV set, with a blanket draped over us.

“I can show you where the guest room is if you’re tired,” he whispered after my fifth or sixth yawn.

I shook my head against his chest. “I’m comfortable here.”

Harry laughed softly. “Me too, but I feel like a hypocrite… I made you come here so you wouldn’t have to sleep on a couch.”

“Well this couch is probably more expensive than my bed, so it’s okay,” I stated.

“Good night, Lia,” he said, kissing the spot just below my ear.

I fell asleep with goosebumps covering my skin.

---

The next morning, I woke up feeling the most rested I’ve been in months. It took me a minute before I remembered where I was and who I was with, but once I did, the panic set in.

I knew I was cutting it close, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. No, we hadn’t done anything other than cuddle and literally sleep together, but I was stupid enough to know that getting this close would only lead to further things.

However, I found it difficult to remove myself from the couch that we had fallen asleep on. I carefully turned around to face a sleeping Harry, and probably stayed there, looking at him, for a good half hour. I had to resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair and touch his soft skin, but I couldn’t stop taking in his beautiful facial features.

Harry was still fast asleep by the time I decided to slip out and go grab coffees and breakfast for us. I got dressed and left his apartment to go to one of the cafe’s down the block, feeling extra happy and bright.

I was practically skipping along the sidewalk down to the cafe when I stopped at the newsstand to buy the New York Times. I wasn’t sure if Harry read it, but I had some weird fantasy of him sipping coffee and reading the paper, and I wanted to see that in person.

I pulled out my wallet and handed the lady at the stand the money after grabbing paper. I was about to keep walking when something caught my eye.

Now, having dated someone from a ridiculously famous boy band that had almost no privacy whatsoever, I usually ignored all gossip magazines and tabloids. Today, however, I couldn’t seem to.

I had learned over the years that almost 99 percent of the stories are made up in those damn things, but pictures don’t lie.

I grabbed the magazine that caught my eye from the rack and studied the picture on the cover.

While the other members of 1D mourn the loss of Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles is keeping busy in NYC

I knew right away the caption was wrong, that Harry hadn’t ignored Louis’s death, but the picture was something I couldn’t fathom.

It was Harry, looking rather drunk, getting into a cab behind a red-headed woman, who also looked quite inebriated. I felt my good mood quickly turn sour, and my stomach began to turn.

I put the magazine back and didn’t even bother going to the cafe. It wasn’t right for me to feel as mad as I did, but I could justify the hurt. Harry and I were not dating or in a relationship—he was allowed to continue his dating or fucking or whatever he was doing with that girl.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t jealous or upset.

I tried not to put too much thought into it, but of course, I couldn’t help myself. And the more I thought about it, the memory of that red-headed woman came flooding back. I’d seen her in many tabloids, in similar settings, with Harry.

Before I had time to think, I was back at my apartment with nothing but my phone, keys and the newspaper.

I curled up on the lone couch in my apartment, and let the stubborn tears escape my eyes. I’d been holding everything in for so long that I couldn’t even pinpoint the exact reason for why I was crying.

I was so tired of contemplating between what was right and wrong, what decisions I should make, what was best for me.

I was tired of being so alone.

Notes

I kind of feel like people aren't really into this story, and I don't want to keep spending time to write and update it if no one's reading.

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