All Again

CHAPTER FORTY
Harry

Then

Good luck tonight, I miss you.
Good luck tonight, I miss you.
Good luck tonight, I miss you.

I kept looking at the picture and the message.
Since I had got the text in my hotel room, I had opened it and closed it at least a dozen times.
Becca had actually texted me, AND she had sent me a picture.
And not just any picture.
Her hazel eyes sparkled with the blue and gold shimmer that lined her eyelashes.
Her cheeks were warm with a light pink blush and her lips that were pouted were accented with a shimmery clear gloss.
She looked beautiful.
I couldn't see what she was wearing, but whatever it was, appeared strapless, and she applied a light shimmer to her shoulders and chest making her skin look iridescent.
It only pissed me off further.
It was all so clear.
Now that she was with her friends and headed to an award show-that I was nominated at- I was important enough to get her attention.
Now she wanted to talk to me.
In the last two days she hadn't called or texted, but now, when she was going to possibly see me, I was a thought?
It was beyond transparent, and I was disappointed she thought I was so stupid.
When she had been with Ricky the body builder the night before, I wasn't even close to being on her mind. She had probably kissed him and touched him and let him run his hands through her coconut scented hair while he plunged into her.
The mental image made me sick, and it was all I could think of as I stood on the red carpet.
I was being selfish I know, but I couldn't stand to see her with someone else; even at this stage.
I kept wondering where she was.
Was she at the show already?
Had she seen me in some way and I hadn't seen her?
Was she even on the red carpet or inside the auditorium?
Was she waiting on my text back?
Well, she did say she missed me...
No.
She didn't miss me.
I was certain she missed the idea of me.
I was at work now, superstar Harry Styles, and why wouldn't she latch on to that and try to get close to me? If I were her, I would have done the same thing and sent a quick text as well.
Maybe she figured she would spend the night with me, or show off in front of her friends.
I wasn't sure, but I knew one thing...I was going to ignore the fuck out of her.
She wouldn't hear from me until she was back in town, and that was only because I had already gone out of my way to get her a birthday gift.
It wasn't anything fancy.
A small diamond necklace curved around an emerald heart.
I figured it was girlish and her birthstone and it had cost me about a grand so it didn't mean much; after all, my shoes were worth more than that. Still I had been looking forward to giving it to her.
As I sat in the auditorium, watching the show, I did wonder if she could see me.
It killed me that I didn't know where she was sat and just how far away she was from me. I didn't want her eyes on me and by some semblance of a chance I would see her, I didn't want to lock eyes with her.
As far as I was concerned she wasn't even there.
After the show, some of my bandmates headed to an after party thrown by my ex, but I headed to Jeff, and took a flight back to Los Angeles. I didn't even want to stay in the city overnight knowing she was there.
I took the ride back to his house, and passed out downstairs in the basement.
The next morning I was up early, working out again.
My muscles were tense and my mind was still clouded.
Becca was still updating her Instagram, giving me a front row seat to her dalliances.
More pictures of drinking and partying.
More guys and late night sleepovers.
Didn't she have any shame?
What if her parents came across everything?
Did she even have any class?
I wanted to leave a comment so badly so she knew I was seeing everything.
But my Instagram was tracked by virtually anyone, and I didn't need that drama. After all, my comment wouldn't be too friendly.
I headed back home soon after, taking a hot shower and changing my clothes before heading out to meet a mutual friend.
He and his family kept my attention for most of the day and I ended up spending the night at his house.
I still didn't text Becca back and she didn't text me.
The next day, on May 19th, our silent treatment would continue, and I would repeat my actions from the previous day. I got up early, working out and boxed my frustrations and tensions into the little black pad in my face.
My cold was started to clear up and with it, my energy, so I went to lunch with my friend again.
Becca remained in the back of my mind where I was trying to bury her.
This wasn't us and the longest we had gone without talking since we had reconnected.
It had gone on so long that I wondered if our roles were beginning to change. It dawned on me that maybe she was now mad at me as well.
After all, I had never replied to her picture message.
Still, she would need to text me first before she got any apology.
She was the one who was wrong and I didn't want to think about her.
Still, as I would soon learn, she would have a way of creeping in and never leaving- no matter how far I would push her away.
"So whatever happened to that one girl?" Cal Aurand asked me ten minutes into my meal.
I looked up at him, already feeling Becca running to the surface of my mind.
"What?" I asked him.
"What happened to that girl? The one from Thailand?" He asked. "Camera girl."
Don't smile.
Don't remember.
"I don't know." I mumbled.
"You haven't talked to her?" he questioned.
I shook my head no. "We're not friends." I said simply.
"Oh she seemed like a nice girl. She was fun." he said with a chuckle.
I looked back at Cal, feeling Becca now taking a seat in the center of my mind; getting comfortable.
It was like she never left.
Damn it.
"What happened?" he asked. We were very close so his question wasn't out of bounds; I just really didn't want to think about her.
"Can we change the subject?" I asked quickly. "She's irrelevant to me."
He gave me a curious look but took a bite of his sandwich dropping the subject.
After lunch, I headed back to my home, packing for London and having a few conversations with members of my management team, but I was still irritated.
She lingered.
Small traces of her remained in the room.
I could smell her shampoo still in my sheets and in areas of my bedroom.
How was that even possible?
Lighting one of my scented candles, I went over my schedule for the next few weeks. I was very organized when it came to work and knew almost down to the minute what I was doing on a daily, weekly and even monthly basis. The only time my schedule was lax was on my days off, where I made time for family and friends, and lately Becca.
In the next couple weeks, there would be some recording in London, but for the most part I was a free agent until the shows resumed.
After I hung up, I laid back in my bed and went to sleep.
I needed to shut my mind off and just find a peace.
When I awoke it was 1am. Glancing at my clock, I quickly realized the date. It was now the 20th.
Becca's Birthday.
She was officially twenty-one.
As I laid there in the dimly lit room, she was heavy on my mind.
I wondered what she was doing.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to know she was probably out. She was probably downing a drink right now in some club.
She was probably in this club, in a short dress, that showed off her beautiful legs and some guy was probably feeling her up as she grinded her ass against his groin.
The mental image fucked with my mind and anger rose in my chest. I sat up and instantly ran my hands over my face.
Fuck!
I didn't know why I cared so much.
She wasn't even my girlfriend.
She was no different from the countless other girls I had entertained since I had become famous.
She didn't even have what some of them had.
She wasn't famous or some rich model.
She didn't come from an affluent background or have a lot of money.
She was just some twenty-one year old girl in college, and here I was going crazy over her.
This wasn't me.
In frustration, I moved away from my bed, where I could still smell the faint signs of her previous appearance. Throwing on a sweatshirt, I grabbed my car keys.
I needed a drive.
A good old fashioned drive on the highway, with the windows down and my music blasting.
Then I would be fine.
The spell would be broken.
She was absolutely beautiful and fun, but that was it.
I didn't need to care this much.
I headed to my Range Rover, starting it up and climbed in.
I plugged in my phone and turned on my favorite Spotify playlist and then rolled down my windows.
I could already see the light at the end of the tunnel.
In less than a hour, she would be off my mind and I would be free from my stupid thoughts.
I didn't fucking need this.
It was time I got my head back in the game.

Notes