You Wound Me, Styles

Today was a refreshing awakening. It was way early in the morning, roughly five, and I was replaying the part of Skins where Maxxie was admitting how he was such a slut. I really loved that part that I even made it a ritual to watch it at an everyday basis.

However, today, when the rain pelted down with its incessant tapping on my window, I was jolted fully awake by the doorbell clamouring through the whole house.

Given the fact that my aunt and mom weren't such light sleepers, I was the only one that heard it, and so I skipped towards the front door and welcomed the visitor we had.

Upon opening the door, I was immediately greeted by a slap. A cold, hard slap on the cheek, marking a red spot.

It was Gemma Styles.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I know I should have done that two years ago."

Two years, yeah. She was a living reminder of my connection to Harry Styles.

"Hello to you, too," I murmured, rubbing the part of my face where it throbbed.

"I just wanted you to know that you were the only girl that Harry ever really took seriously," she told me.

I wasn't sure of her prime motive, whether it was to guilt me or to simply tell me a bottled up truth that she always meant to spill.

It didn't matter, because a ball of guilt clenched in my stomach, just like how I used to feel like. It was resurfacing, even after a couple years have already vanished.

"You don't know how sorry I am, and—" I was cut off by Gemma.

"You didn't let me finish," she said. "You were the only girl that Harry Styles ever really took seriously, that's why I want you to go to him right now."

"I still have to finish my cake," I said, surprised.

"Oh, never mind that," she said. "Harry's being an idiot, and he's currently dating someone more than half his age because he's gone mad. I can't see him like this."

"My cake..." I whispered dramatically as Gemma pulled me towards her house.