Same hotel, same room, but a very different mood.

“What did I say about coming to my home? About putting me in risky situations?"

Walking through the door I shoved Harry’s hat against his chest, forcing him to take it. Harry’s green, woolen hat had sent my anxiety through the roof, feeling like there was bomb in my house waiting to explode.

I’d gone to sleep that night, in the bed that still smelled like Harry, relatively calm, considering how close I’d come to Will possibly finding out about everything. I refused to reply to Harry’s messages and even his phone call asking if I was ok and what had happened. I needed to sleep so I would deal with him in the morning.

But I’d woken up a few hours later, dripping with sweat and Harry’s beanie clamped in my right hand. I’d dreamt that we were trying to meet, making arrangements to be alone but we’d always be interrupted or questioned, until I finally kissed him anyway. Harry pulled away, a look of disgust on his face as he frantically looked around, yelling that I was sick and I was never to touch him again; ashamed that he’d been seen kissing me in public.

I felt sick to my stomach and the feeling hadn’t left all week.

“Do you know what would have happened had Will found this? Do you, Harry?”

Harry stared at me, stunned, before spluttering, “He wouldn’t have known it was mine.”

“Oh! So that’s how this works, does it? It doesn’t matter if he finds out I’m having an affair as long as he doesn’t know it’s with you?”

I was shaking with rage, having already worked myself up into a stage of fury over the past week, and Harry’s answer sent my anger over the edge. “’Cause he’d know it wasn’t mine, and it definitely isn’t his!”

“That’s not what I meant, baby, you know that.” The voice that I normally found soothing, that I could listen to for hours, now made me see red.

“I know what you meant”, I spat, folding my hands across my chest. “I was stupid for getting involved with you in the first place.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever, Layla.”

“Fuck you, Harry. Fuck. You.”

This time I laughed, amazed that I’d put my marriage at risk for this little boy who behaved like he was so mature. “We’re done. Don’t call me, don’t pull some stupid stunt so we’re in the same place, I’m not interested.”

Face impassive, he shrugged, “If that’s what you want, then fine by me. You know where the door is.”

Clenching my fists I walked out of the hotel room, slamming the door loudly behind me, with every intention of never seeing Harry fucking Styles again.

---

“While I am not complaining about an impromptu trip to Ibiza, why exactly are we going?” Rose questioned for the tenth time as she wound the window of the taxi we were in. She’d straightened her red curls so her hair whipped around her head like she was a fiery medusa.

“Well,” I sighed, realising if I told her now there would be more chance of us enjoying the rest of our holiday without her interrogating me the entire time. “Harry and I are done so I needed to not be in London. I needed sun and cocktails and some gal pal times.”

“Wow…I was not expecting that answer.” She wanted to ask more but we both knew now was not the time or place – that would be over fruity drinks in our private villa.

The rest of the drive was silent and my thoughts, of course, turned to Harry. I missed him more than I imagined, not being able to message him or having late night naughty texting sessions. Instead it was silence: I didn’t message him and he didn’t message me.

There was some regret about my over reaction but I didn’t regret ending the affair. I had a loving husband who took care of me and treated me well; I had no other reason to look elsewhere, even fantastic sex.

The villa was gorgeous, much too big for just the two of us but I was glad of the privacy. Up in the mountains there were breathtaking sea views from the balcony and the infinity pool, and still only a 20 minute walk into Ibiza town for drinks and food.

After a few days of swimming, drinking and spilling my thoughts to Rose I felt decidedly better. I didn’t miss Harry half as much as I thought I would and even felt an odd relief that I no longer had a constant worry on my shoulders. I missed the attention and a person to send flirty messages to, nobody to admire my poolside bikini selfies, but other than that, I was enjoying my time on an island I loved with my best friend. By the Wednesday I felt like my old self, the Layla who moved to Ibiza at 19 to be a holiday rep, the Layla who drank too much, ate too little and was excellent at burying her feelings.

“A toast!” Rose shouted over the music, holding aloft a ginormous glass of vodka and coke so I could clink my own over sized drink against it. “To us! No matter what, we’ll always have this bar and our times here together! Fuck Harry and fuck any man or woman who tries to ruin our fabulousness!”

“To us!” I agreed before drinking half the contents of my glass, then shuddering from the amount of alcohol to mixer Rose had poured.

“Too strong?” she grinned as I nodded. “Good!”

We sat and table danced to our favourite cheesy songs, singing loudly and out of tune whilst pointing at each other. I couldn’t love this girl any more and I was eternally grateful for the fact she was in my life. Quickly dancing at the table was not enough, we needed to pull some serious shapes but we had to wait for the right song.

The opening bars of ’What Makes You Beautiful’ filled the club and there were screams aplenty as almost every girl in the room leapt up and ran to the dance floor. Rose and I looked at each other, both unsure how to react until she grabbed my hand and leapt off her stool and dragged me to dance with everyone else.

Neither of us really knew the words but we sang anyway, continuing with our pointing at each other in a drinker serenade until the only voice singing was Harry’s, and then a sadness I’d been ignoring washed over me.

“I think I miss him.” I leaned over to Rose and pouted, “I don’t want to but I kind of do.”

“No! No you don’t! The vodka and your vagina miss him!” Then she yelled back, “I have an idea. Come on, we’re going!”

Collecting our things we left the club and the sound of One Direction behind, and headed to wherever it was Rose was planning on taking me.

Notes