Bloom

March

“It’s her.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is. Look.”

“Woah. Weird. D’you think she’s going somewhere? No one ever sees Eleanor Calder at the train station.”

“It says she goes to UCL. What’s Astrophysics?”

I’d been politely ignoring the whispering girls a few feet away, trying to focus on the ever changing timetables above and wishing I hadn’t forgotten my headphones in my room, but the last part caught my attention. I searched my pockets for my phone and texted Jillian in a panic.

CODE RED

I don’t know what that is

Are u on ur period?

Jesus no what the hell

there’s these two girls standing a few feet away from me and they know who I am

which means the internet knows which is bad

Shit

Shit shit shit

What r u gonna do?

I don’t know??

how did this even happen I haven’t seen Harry since last Friday

Someone must’ve told after they saw the pics of u together

That had been an interesting Saturday morning, to say the least. I’d woken up to Jillian on top of me (she was on her phone, which was plugged in next to my bed), a massive headache even though I hadn’t consumed a drop of alcohol, and pictures of Harry and I looking way too comfortable at The Red Door. They were blurry, and by the angle, taken from the bar. There weren’t any photos of us fighting, but “sources said” we’d been seen sneaking off together, and then Harry got papped leaving alone. The assumption was that he wasn’t looking to get “officially” photographed with me to avoid my getting labelled as another one of his conquests. There were some swooping claims made about our supposed relationship that didn’t help the ache in my chest one bit.

R u ok?

yeah I think

right now it’s just kinda weird?

it’s not like we’re together anyway so

Right

Have a good day tho! Enjoy being a tourist!

:)

I tucked my phone back into my pocket, glancing surreptitiously over at the girls. They were still pouring over the redhead’s phone, whispering things like ‘what does he see in her anyway’ and ‘she must be really smart.’ They weren’t even being very subtle about it either, which I suppose weirded me out more than anything. I wondered if this was how Harry felt all the time, knowing people were talking about him, analyzing his every move. I was hit with the sudden urge to Google my name just to see what came up, what people were saying. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter, but that didn’t stop me from being curious.

“Imogen!” cried a voice, and suddenly Mae was crashing into me with a delighted look on her face. She seemed to get shy a second later, and started pulling away, so I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and kept her where she was.

“Hey,” I said, smiling over Mae’s head at Dad and Sarah. They both had sizeable backpacks, which I guessed had their clothes and everything else for the weekend, since there wasn’t any other luggage in sight.

As we started out of the station, I glanced back to see if the two girls were still standing under the schedule boards, but they were gone.

“So,” I said, keeping one arm around Mae’s shoulders. “What’s our first stop?”

“I have a map,” Mae said excitedly, pulling out a map of central London from her purse. There were several sites circled in red and blue ink. “Red is for today — I picked the stuff that I wanted to see with you. And blue is for tomorrow.”

There were three places marked with red, one of them only a few minutes from Euston Station. “I’m guessing that’s our first stop.”

“The British Library,” Mae clarified.

Dad and Sarah were walking a few paces behind us. Every time I glanced over my shoulder they wore smiles on their faces, hardly even paying attention to the city around them, too focused on Mae and I to notice anything else.

“I’ve never been here,” I said, as the red brick building came into view. There was a massive statue out front, and I noticed Dad looking at me expectantly. “What?”

“It’s Isaac Newton,” he said, nodding at the hunched over figure holding a compass — the math kind. “You should know that.”

I could only offer a sheepish smile, wandering closer to the statue to read the sign at its base.

It took a little while to find the room Mae wanted, because there was another exhibition going on and students were everywhere, studying. Eventually we found it, tucked away on the ground floor behind the massive King’s Library, books behind glass and gold bars, coming up through the floor and disappearing past the ceiling.

Photography was prohibited in the gallery, which was understandable. Constant flashing probably wasn’t good for fragile paper. I wasn’t a reader, but these books and manuscripts and every other kind of written work imaginable were astounding to anyone who could appreciate the years, sometimes centuries, they’d existed, the care and effort that went into each piece on display, as well as their importance at the time of creation and all the time after that.

We all went off in different directions. Mae, the curious child she was, leaned incredibly close to the glass as though she would absorb the words printed or written across the displayed pages better that way. I found myself amidst the illuminated pages of old religious texts, more interested in the beautiful margins than the words themselves.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dad asked, appearing at my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I murmured, following the pattern of leaves and animals down one of the pages.

“So, how’ve you been?”

“Since we talked on the phone two days ago?” I asked with a grin. Dad shrugged. “Okay. Trying to keep busy.”

“Sarah and I were talking about dinner on the way over,” he said. “She said if you’d like to invite Harry along, you’re certainly welcome to.”

I froze, hand caught in my hair as I frantically searched for an answer that wasn’t too sad or angry or pitiful. “Uh, he’s probably busy. They’re rehearsing for the tour and stuff, so…”

“Oh, too bad. It would’ve been nice to see him again. Nice lad.”

Dad wandered off to look at some documents from World War II, and my phone started ringing as I turned back to the illuminated religious texts. I hadn’t changed the photo that came up whenever Harry called, that dumb selfie in New York he’d sent forever ago, but now instead of making me smile, it only made me sad.

I hit decline and put my phone away, taking a breath.

We hadn’t so much as texted since The Red Door, and I wasn’t at all ready to hear his voice. Even when I was, because we would inevitably have to communicate at some point given that our friends were the same people, I couldn’t escape the feeling that this was final, that it wasn’t like the other times we’d had a brief period of non-communication. I wasn’t constantly starting texts only to delete them before I pressed send or wondering if I’d run into him at Matt’s or Nick’s.

Now I was just miserable. I’d lost my chance and there was no way of getting it back, and I just had to move on. Accept the fact that for the first time in my life, I was almost definitely in love with somebody who didn’t have the capacity to feel the same way. Beckett had been controlling and manipulative, but he had loved me once. Harry was too blinded by the personality he’d created for himself — the moody, distant, lustful asshole that he’d convinced himself to be on a permanent basis — to even entertain the possibility of having any real feelings for another human being.

We had lunch at Pizza Express, and Sarah wouldn’t let me pay for my own food no matter how many times I insisted, and then hopped on the Tube to Kensington, where our other two destinations were located. Transferring was chaotic, since Mae wasn’t used the flow of the Tube stations and kept on getting the way of hurrying commuters.

When we got to the Natural History Museum, I knew right away that I’d be visiting this place on a regular basis from now on. The Red Zone, with its escalator up through a molten, metallic globe and constellations decorating the walls, made me want to stay there forever and look at the pictures of planets and fragments of meteors and everything else space-related.

My phone rang again, Harry’s face smiling up at me in a way that made my chest hurt. Once more I ignored the call, and contemplated turning my phone off entirely, but if Jillian texted me and I didn’t reply she’d be furious and I wouldn’t stop hearing about that one time I ignored her.

Before I put my phone away, a message appeared on the screen. It was Harry, of course.

Please answer. I’m sorry.

I should have known they would find out who you are eventually. I’m so so sorry please call me.

This isn’t about us. I just need to know you’re okay.

I stared at the little text bubbles for too long, standing in the middle of the passageway with the history of the solar system on the walls on either side of me, and didn’t realize until Sarah was standing in front of me with a hesitant smile on her face.

“Imogen? We’re going to move onto the next exhibit now,” she said, then took in my dazed expression. “You can meet up with us later, if you like.”

“No, I’m uh,” I stumbled over my words, dropping my phone into my coat pocket and folding my arms across my chest so I wouldn’t pull it out again. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

But I wasn’t. Not at all. I was distracted for the next three hours we spent wandering the various exhibits, even in the rooms filled with stuffed wild animals. They had some policy about not killing the animals for display purposes, but it should still have been weird that there were all these dead things staring blankly back at me. I hardly even noticed them, absently listening to Mae go on about cheetahs and why they were her favourite of the big cats.

The girls at Euston Station had known I studied Astrophysics, but what else did they know? How much had the world found out about me? Those and a million more questions lingered in my mind as we moved onto the human biology section. Mae was particularly interested in the optical illusions and kept on trying to get me to tell her what I saw in each of the images, but I could only muster up a few words at a time. If she cared, she didn’t show it.

Throughout the day, I got three more calls from Harry. My best guess was that he phoned whenever he had a few moment in rehearsals. I was able to focus a little more in the Science Museum, because it provided a similar level of distraction as my coursework did. I noticed Sarah sending curious looks my way too, but she didn’t approach me until we’d left the Science Museum and were going to start searching for somewhere to have dinner.

Mae and Dad walked ahead, talking about their favourite parts of the museum, and I’d just pressed ignore on another of Harry’s calls, the action keeping me back a few feet. Sarah fell into step next to me, adjusting the straps of her backpack and glancing over with a concerned expression.

“Is everything okay, Imogen?”

“Hmm?”

“I just noticed that you keep getting phone calls and you haven’t been answering,” she said. “I’d like to help, if I can.”

“It’s nothing,” I said quickly, more out of reflex than anything else. Sarah waited patiently for me to explain what was actually going on. “Harry and I got into a fight last week. He’s the one who’s been calling.”

“Why don’t you answer?”

I glanced sideways and met her gaze, calm and soothing and, above all else, motherly. I didn’t even mind, which startled me at first, but I suppose I'd never really felt any antagonism toward Sarah. She was, after all, the one who’d encouraged Dad to keep in contact, minor as it was. “Because it hurts too much,” I admitted, after a few moments of silence. “There’s some other stuff going on and that’s why he’s reaching out. It doesn’t even have to do with our fight.”

“The fact that he’s reached out at all shows that he wants to move past it,” she replied. “He’s giving you the opportunity to respond, it’s up to you to bridge the gap.”

“I know, I just don’t want to hear his voice.”

“That’s what texting is for, love.”

I laughed despite myself, and Sarah squeezed my shoulder. Up ahead, Dad and Mae had stopped in front of a Mediterranean restaurant. “How’s this?” Dad asked, when we’d reached them.

“Fine with me,” I said.

During our meal I had my phone on the table, because Silas was going through Nick’s closet and had found the strangest articles of clothing and I couldn’t ignore some of the photos he’d sent. But it also made the screen visible to anyone else at the table, and when messages started pouring in from Harry, Sarah encouraged me to reply.

Our publicist is going to try and stop them from releasing anything else. She wants to speak to you if she can. I sent you her number.

I asked anyone if they talked to you and they haven’t what’s going on is everything okay?

You only need to say Yes or No. That’s it.

I’m fine I’m with my family

You’re in Manchester? Why didn’t you tell me?

seriously?

and I’m not in Manchester they came to London

But you’re fine? Jillian said there were some people talking about you? Nothing bad happened right?

Would you even tell me if it did?

I don’t know

look I can’t talk to you right now I’m at dinner

Okay.

But we’ll talk later?

I don’t know maybe

I’m not going to stop trying, you know.

Tell your family I say hi .x

Stupid Harry and his stupid little ‘x’ making me want to hurl my phone across the restaurant. I scowled and put my phone into my purse, not even wanting it out on the table anymore where it could taunt me. Sarah was watching me from across the table. “Was that as awful as you expected?”

“Worse,” I replied. “Harry says hello.”

“Imogen, I wanna see your dorm,” Mae said as she grabbed a bit of pita from the middle of the table and dunked it into the hummus.

I thought about how my room looked like a bomb had gone off in it, clothes, textbooks, and assignments everywhere, and grimaced. “Uh, it’s not really visitor-ready.”

“We don’t mind,” said Sarah. “You’re probably like Ciaran. Things all over the place?”

“Pretty much.”

“My desk at work is absolute chaos,” Dad admitted.

I grinned across the table at him. “I haven’t seen the surface of my desk since September.”

“Mae and I are the organized ones in the family,” Sarah said.

“Is your mum very tidy?” Mae asked quietly.

Mom hadn’t been a topic of conversation yet. The way she brought it up, tentative and timid, made me wonder if she was supposed to ask about Mom at all. But then I looked across the table, and neither Dad or Sarah looked angry. They actually looked curious; or Sarah did, at least.

“She’s not messy, but she can be a little scatterbrained,” I said. “But her brain works differently, she doesn’t really see or do stuff like other people. Everything is more…”

“Vivid.”

I blinked at Dad, surprised he’d chimed in. Mae looked caught off guard too, but Sarah had the same contemplative smile on her face she always did.

“Yeah,” I agreed, because he’d found exactly the right word.

Mae kept on pestering about my room, so I ended up agreeing to show them Astor. It was only a ten minute walk from Euston Station anyway, and their hotel was right around that area.

On our walk from the Tube station to Astor, Dad came up and walked with me. We didn’t talk, but it was okay, because neither of us knew what to say anyway. His comment about Mom was stuck in my head, filling me with a strange mix of emotions I hadn't felt (all at once, at least) since I was a little kid.

As usual, Jillian was around right when I definitely didn’t need her to be.

Very enthusiastically kissing some dude. In the hallway.

Mae made a surprised noise when we got out of the lift and saw them halfway down the corridor, where Jillian and I’s neighbouring rooms were located. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered, making sure my voice quiet enough that nobody else would hear, but Dad glanced over with raised brows anyway. I cleared my throat loudly, striding ahead at a rapid pace so that I could get the pair out of sight before Mae got any closer. “Dude, there is a kid in your immediate vicinity. And look, a perfectly adequate room right there!”

Jillian pulled away from her companion for the evening, brows wound high on her forehead and her mouth red. “Fuck, I totally didn’t think you’d bring them here.”

“Neither did I,” I said. “Now. Go. Away.”

“Sorry!” she muttered and shoved the boy into her room. But she didn’t follow immediately, and I realized that this was because my family was standing right behind me. “Hi, Imogen’s family. I’m Jillian. Sorry you had to see that, it isn’t how I wanted my first impression to go. I’m just gonna go now.”

“Friend of yours?” Dad asked as I unlocked my door.

I pushed it open and flicked on the light, taking in the untidy sight before me. “Yeah. She’s great, most of the time. A little overbearing, but really supportive.”

I was rambling, and we all knew it. But with Mae examining the stack of textbooks next to my bedside table with barely concealed interest and Sarah staring worriedly at the mountain of laundry next to the dresser, I didn’t know how else to fill the silence.

We had a recap of the day, led by Mae, and Dad gave me some tips on my Mechanics assignment, but it quickly became obvious that we’d exhausted all topics of conversation and Mae was getting tired. I was too, every yawn she made causing me to yawn too. Once the hugs and goodbyes were over, I walked with them out of the building and gave directions on how to get back to Euston Station, since I had no idea where their hotel was and that seemed like a good starting point. Mae hugged me one more time before they left, tighter than all the other hugs I’d received throughout the day.

When I got back up to my room, I kicked off my boots and jeans and stood in the middle of the room, wondering what I was supposed to do with the rest of my Saturday night. Jillian was very obviously occupied, and Matt had said something about seeing Penny, which left me with third-wheeling Nick and Silas, and I definitely wasn’t up for that.

My phone was on the verge of dying, so I plugged it into the outlet next to my bed and unlocked the screen, my earlier conversation with Harry still open. I’d been holding back my curiosity all day, ever since I heard those girls talking about me at the train station this morning. Harry’s texts had only made it worse. It didn’t take long to find what I was looking for, and I curled up in bed with my phone and read.



HARRY STYLES’ NEW LADY LOVE: exclusive look at the intelligent beauty who has captured the heart of London’s most eligible bachelor

We’ve been seeing them together for months, but only recently have sources identified Harry Styles’ new girlfriend. Meet Imogen Talbott, an American student studying Astrophysics at University College London. Don’t know what Astrophysics is? That’s okay, readers, we had to look it up too. It seems that Harry Styles has turned a new leaf in his romantic endeavours and settled down with a girl who not only has looks, but brains too. Miss Talbott is certainly quite a change from the string of models and socialites Styles has been linked to since last year, following his split from Sasha Blackwell.

What we are wondering, dear readers, is what will happen when One Direction go on tour next month? Will Harry and Imogen attempt a long distance relationship? While he travels around the world, university will keep her here in London with the rest of us. As far as we know, distance is what tore apart Styles’ last relationship. Will it happen again?

We’re rooting for this unlikely couple. Are you?



“No, Jessica Richardson, I am not rooting for them,” I said aloud, frowning at the article. “‘They’ are not a ‘them,’ anyway.”

My eyes pricked with tears, but they weren’t sad tears. I was frustrated — frustrated with Harry, with myself, even with fucking Jessica Richardson and her ‘sources.’ I suspected Ben Powell, because he’d had it out for me since Day One and had never really stopped making fun of me for hanging out with Harry. The twat, as Elliott had so aptly put it once.

There was a knock at my door. I decided a second before answering that I should probably put on pants, because it couldn’t be Jillian on the other side and I’d been caught sans-pants in company that one should definitely be wearing trousers in too many times to count.

His hair hung around his face, looking dull and limp, and there were dark circles under his still-bright celery eyes. His cheeks were hollow, the sharp angles of his face more pronounced. There was the faintest bit of stubble on his upper lip and jaw. His shirt had a weirdly placed hole in it and he wasn’t even wearing a coat, his flannel rolled down to his wrists and incredibly wrinkled.

My mouth started spewing words before my brain was able to fully adjust to the fact that Harry was standing here looking absolutely destroyed, and that I might have something to do with it.

“You look like me during exam week. I recommend coffee, Advil, and Amy Poehler. Works like a charm.”

Harry blinked at me and frowned. “How do you always manage to do the exact opposite of what I’m expecting?”

“I could hit you, if you want,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “You kind of deserve it.”

“I know. You should.”

“But I won’t, because I would feel bad, since you look awful enough already. And I also throw a mean right hook, so you’d definitely need medical attention.”

Harry raked his fingers through his lifeless hair, eyebrows raised like he didn’t quite believe me. “Can I come in?”

I hesitated. “Are you gonna try and get me to talk to your publicist? Because I really don’t wanna get wrapped up in that shit. I already feel really uncomfortable with the knowledge that people know where I go to school.”

“Promise I won’t. There’s something else we need to talk about.”

“Well, that’s never a good sign,” I said as I stepped aside, allowing him in.