Harry’s P.O.V

*One week later*

I’d been avoiding Isabelle all week.

I knew she’d been rattled up after she’d heard what Louis had said. At that precise moment, I wanted to strangle him. When Isabelle had told me she’d wanted to talk to me after, I’d acted all innocent and confused, but I was quickly figuring out how I could evade us two just being alone together. I’d quickly invited El and Louis to stay all day. Sure, it was fun, but I could see Isabelle shooting me glances from the corner of her eye.

By the time El and Louis had left, it was late, and I drove her home. She told me she’d just talk to me about something tomorrow.

She’d called me the day after. And the day after that, and so on. Each day, I’d let it go to voicemail. She’d emailed me. I hadn’t responded. She’d asked Louis if I was sick, but I’d told him to not tell her anything. She’d tried to text me, but I didn’t text her back.

I felt like fucking shit.

I liked her. I really did. Ignoring her and pretending like she didn’t exist was killing me. I missed smelling her vanilla scent every time we were close enough. I missed seeing her smile. And I knew that she was getting fed up with me too.


I bounded into the living room, where I’d left my phone, to see if she’d left me any new message. She’d left me three, dammit. I listened to the first one:

“Hey, Harry, I’ve been calling you for forever. I don’t know if your phone is dead or whatever, but we really need to talk. You’re not responding to my emails either. What’s going on?”

If only she knew. I clicked delete and pressed the second voicemail:

“Harry, it’s me again. Would you please pick up? I feel like you’re avoiding me. I’ve been texting you and you’re not answering. Please talk to me; I have something super important to discuss with you.”

Finally, the last message:

“Okay, now you must be avoiding me for sure. I really need to talk
to you! Why aren’t you picking up?”

Was it just me, or did her voice crack a bit on the last one? Great, I’d made her cry. I must’ve been the most stupid guy alive. Why couldn’t I just tell her that she’d gotten drunk because of me? Why couldn’t I tell her that I’d kissed her?

Because you don’t have the balls, a voice in my head replied in a snarky tone. I sighed, realising that the voice was right. I didn’t have the balls. I couldn’t tell her because I didn’t want to get rejected.

Wait, Harry Styles, get rejected? Usually I was the one doing the rejection. I guess feeling it the other way around wasn’t so great.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Subconsciously, I stood and padded over to the main entrance. I opened the door, and Isabelle pushed through into my house before I could even have a chance to register who it was. I slammed it immediately and turned to stare at her. It had been the first time I’d seen her since a week ago. Her hands were crossed, her hip cocked outwards.

Shit.

“You haven’t answered my calls,” she said in a quiet voice. I cleared my throat, “I know.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with an ‘I know’. “You haven’t texted me back either.”

“I know.”

“You haven’t responded to any of my emails.”

“I know.”

“So what’s going on?” she shrieked, throwing her hands up in the air, “You know Harry, I think you’re avoiding me because you don’t want to talk about what happen at the banquet hall a week ago! Christmas is in three days! I’m wasting all my energy on you when I should be helping my sister with her last minute shopping, or decorating the house! We need to talk!”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said loudly, and at that moment, she stalked over to me, getting so close that I could finally smell vanilla.

She looked up into my eyes, “I do,” she said slowly, “And you’re going to tell me what happened. Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not ly—,” I tried to say, but she cut me off. “Don’t give me that shit! You lied to me that very first morning I woke up! You didn’t tell me a thing! I even asked you what happened, and you told me that it was nothing! So don’t say that you’re not lying, Harry Styles, because you are. What happened?"

"Would you just give it up?" I asked loudly, trying to sound annoyed. She looked taken aback at my argument.

But then she shook her head, glaring at me incredulously, "No, I won't give it up!" she cried, "Why are you lying to me? You know, I actually thought you cared about me! But I see that isn't the case at all!"

"I do care about you," I said quietly. She began to tear up, "No Harry. No you don't. If you really did, you would tell me the truth instead of lying and ignoring me."

She raked her fingers through her hair, and it took everything I had to not lurch forward and kiss her. I wanted to though, so fucking badly.

"Would you please just tell me what's going on?" Isabelle whispered, and my heart broke into a million pieces when I heard how heartbroken she sounded. I'd made her feel this way.

"I can't Belle," I said, defeated, "I'm so sorry. But I can't."
She clenched her jaw and opened her mouth, blinking her tears back.

"Why won't you tell me?" she screamed, "Harry, I never did anything to you! I always told you things! Why can't you do the same?"

She was on the floor now, collapsed into a little ball and sobbing. I immediately felt bad, and I rushed to her side, helping her to try and stand back up. I expected her to shrug me off and tell me to get away. But she simply grasped my forearms as I helped her up. She stared into my eyes, tears not falling just yet, but her bottom lip trembled.

"Please Harry," she whispered, "I can't stand having you ignore me. Please tell me what's going on."

I debated with myself. If I told her, she’d go back to liking me again, and this whole thing would blow over. But if she found out that I’d kissed her, she’d probably hate me forever. What could I do?

I didn’t do any of those things. Instead, I tightened my grip on the doorknob and opened it. She looked at me incredulously.

I didn’t look into her eyes, “Get out,” I said. There was a pause, and I looked up, only to find her watery eyes staring at me in disbelief.

But then her gaze hardened, and she wiped her cheeks, and said,

“You know what? Fine!” she pushed past me and out the door. She stopped on the veranda, and I watched her. She seemed to be debating over something.

Finally, she turned back to me, and I found the tears finally streaming down her cheeks, “Fine!” she screamed, “Don’t call me, don’t email me, don’t text me ever! I never want to see you again! I hate you!”

She whipped back around, stomped quickly down the steps and walked down the street. I watched her go, and when I finally lost sight of her, I slammed the door, “Fuck!”

Louis tentatively peeked out from behind a wall, “Harry mate, you alright?” I didn’t answer him. All I did was sprint down the hall and into my bedroom.

I slammed that door too.

Notes

I know it's short! Please don't hate me, because ILY!!! How do you guys like a pissed off Isabelle? I love it!

I noticed that I have five subscribers! Yay! To those people thank you very much! Okay so I've noticed that it gets really annoying when I always write in the notes section "Please comment, vote rate and subscribe!" I'm truly sorry for doing that!!! From now on, my lips are sealed. So, how are you guys today?