Take It or Leave It

arcatfire:
i have my first presentation due in two days but i don’t have any classes so guess who’s marathoning 90’s movies idc

#i’m saving 10 things i hate about you for last #bc fave #i thought by the time i moved out i’d be at least half as cool as kat stratford

It was two days after my disastrous dinner with Harry Styles, a Monday, and I was still throwing a pity party of one. It was really my last day to get my shit together. The next day I had two classes and a study date with a girl in one of my business classes and then the day after was my first English presentation.

It was all very stressful and completely mind numbing, but. But Netflix sounded better.

I hadn’t talked to Harry since he dropped me off at my apartment Saturday night. He’d sent me another apology via text an hour after but I hadn’t even replied. It wasn’t just him though, I was ignoring everyone. I hadn’t answered any asks on Tumblr or replied to any of H’s messages all day.

I was halfway through Home Alone, curled up in my big armchair with my favorite blanket and Pickles in my lap, when there was a knock at the door.

I wanted to ignore it, pretend I hadn’t heard it, mostly because I was afraid I knew who it was (because who else would just show up out of the blue?) but also because I was only wearing a giant t-shirt that I’d stolen from my brother, underwear, and Mickey Mouse socks. (x)

I let it go the first time whoever it was knocked. But then they knocked again after a minute of no answer and I sighed. I had to get up. Pickles wasn’t pleased either.

I managed to look through the peephole to see a FedEx delivery man outside my door. Which was good because I didn’t need to put pants on, and bad because I hadn’t ordered anything.

I swung the door open anyway.

“Olivia McCarter?” the man asked and looked up from the package in his hand. He looked old and sad.

“Alivia,” I muttered under my breath.

He just blinked at me, “Right. Sign here.”

I just sighed and did as he asked. I had no idea who’d sent me something but all I cared about was getting back to my movie.

“Thanks,” I mumbled as he handed me the fairly good sized box and nodded before leaving.

I shut the door and stared at the package. It appeared to be from some clothing brand which was weird because I was almost certain I hadn’t ordered any clothes recently, even when I was half asleep and almost convincing myself that $95 jeans were worth it.

I managed to cut the box open with a pen and I couldn’t have expected what was inside in a million years.

Folded up in a clear protective bag was a sweater. A big, gray, pullover sweater that was nearly identical to the one I’d ruined, minus the pocket.

I could feel my heart start to speed up as I carefully pulled it out of the box and held it up. It was from a brand that would easily charge $200 dollars more for nearly the exact same sweater as my last one. I was probably going to cry.

And even though I knew who it was from, I opened the folded up piece of paper left inside the box. There was a note on the gift receipt.

This was the closest I could find to your jumper. I hope it’s alright. I’m so sorry about the other night.

-Harry x

He’d not only clearly spent ages trying to find a similar sweater that ended up being much more expensive than the original, but he’d paid some ridiculous amount of money for next day shipping. And it shouldn’t have made tears prick at my eyes, but it did. No one had ever done anything like that for me and certainly not after I’d ruined their night and embarrassed the fuck out of myself.

I gently pulled open the protective plastic that was wrapped around it and took the sweater out, holding it up. It was soft, probably softer than the original one. It was big and bulky and warm and even though I didn’t want to admit it, I was in love.

“Fuck,” I breathed out because now I was going to have to make some sort of contact with Harry again, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

And then as if some higher power had some sick sense of humor, my phone started to ring and Harry’s name lit up the screen.

I had two options, I could ignore him and put it off until I was sick with guilt, or I could just get it over with. With a racing heart and shaky hands, I answered.

“H-hello?”

“Hiii,” Harry drew out his greeting but he still sounded nervous, “You alright?”

“Hi,” I mumbled, already beginning to pace the kitchen, “Y-yeah, how are you?”

“Good, yeah. I uh, I’m gonna be in New York for a bit longer than I thought so I just thought I should like call you or something,” he was nervous.

“If you’re calling to see if I got the sweater, it just showed up,” I swallowed harshly, “A-and you really didn’t have to do that.”

“I-I felt bad like about dinner, thought you deserved a new one,” he didn’t sound just nervous, he sounded sort of terrified, “I-I hope ‘s alright? ‘M sort of shit at clothes.”

“Harry, ‘s like a ridiculously expensive sweater,” I ran a hand through my hair, “You can’t just do something like that."

“It wasn’t that bad, really. I just, I feel fucking terrible that your sweater got ruined,” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sorry about the whole night, really.”

“Stop apologizing,” I shook my head, “You didn’t do anything wrong. But like this sweater is like gorgeous and everything I just. I can’t like accept it.”

There was a pause, “Alivia, please.”

“No I can’t,” I tried to explain to him but I knew he wouldn’t get it.

“Yes you can,” he insisted, “I ruined your jumper and I’m replacing it.”

“Harry-” I tried again but he cut me off.

“But that wasn’t actually why I called,” he mumbled, sounding nervous again, “I uh. I was wondering if maybe like you’d want to try again? Like go out again tonight?”

“W-what?” I didn’t know why I’d thought he’d called but I definitely hadn’t thought he’d want to go out with me again.

“I-I mean like. As friends still. I just wanted to make up for ruining the other night?” I had no idea why he always sounded so nervous around me but it was fucking endearing.

“I uh, like where were you thinking?” I asked, trying not to sound nervous. Really I was terrified. I felt horrible about the other night which meant I’d probably end up going out with him again because I felt guilty. Which was fucked up and I knew it.

“I, um, I dunno,” he admitted honestly.

I tried to hold in a sigh, “What if I pick the place? Somewhere you won’t get, like, mobbed and somewhere I won’t make an ass out of myself?”

*

It was a bad idea. I’d tried to convince myself as I was getting ready that it would be okay, it was one more dinner and I’d be off the hook. I wouldn’t have guilt gnawing at my stomach anymore. It would be over with. If I could just get through the dinner without making an ass out of myself again. Then it’d be over.

But the problem was, I’d already had to change my shirt twice because I’d spilled juice on it. The second shirt I had to change because I got toothpaste on it. So the night wasn’t looking very promising. I ended up wearing the sweater, justifying it by how it would make Harry feel better. And because it had maybe already become my favorite sweater. It was everything one looked for in a sweater.

I’d paired it with black high waisted denim shorts and a pair of all black Converse. It was simple enough for where we were going and comfortable. (x)

Harry picked me up again in his too nice car and I gave him directions to the only place I knew he wouldn’t be found. The same hole in the wall Chinese with the still half burnt out sign that I’d found Pickles in front of.

It might have looked disgusting, sure, but it was the best fried rice and sweet and sour chicken I’d had in my entire life. And that was saying something. I used to live off of Chinese food. And it was nearly always empty.

We found a little booth in the back with our food. And it was, okay. So far. I hadn’t stumbled over my words too much or spilt anything on either of us. It was easier than the last time, even though we didn’t know each other any better. I felt a bit more comfortable in an empty hole in the wall place, where even the workers weren’t sending us funny looks.

I was giggling over a story about him and his cousin when they were younger and his cousin had an eye infection, when I first caught it.

“Never had an eye infection until a few weeks ago,” he shook his head with a laugh and a big grin, green eyes shining.

It didn’t click right away, where I’d heard almost the exact same sentence the other day. Instead I just told him with a smile, “I used to get them all the time when I was little.”

It didn’t happen again until just after we’d finished our food.

We were talking about music, which seemed to happen a lot. He was telling me how he owed his music taste to his older sister. How she’d gotten him into Pink Floyd and Coldplay and Kings of Leon and Arcade Fire and other bands that led him to find newer bands which made him sound pretentious, when he was actually the opposite. And Arcade Fire. His sister got him into Arcade Fire.

“Your sister sounds incredible. What’s her name?” I tried to ask casually, and not through gritted teeth, as things were starting to connect in my head.

“Gemma,” his smile looked different. It didn’t reach his eyes, now clicking in my mind to be a familiar green.

“Pretty name,” I smiled just as falsely and took a sip of my drink, looking up at him, wondering if he could tell I knew.

As soon as I had the one word confirmation, my heart was racing more than ever before. My mind was running a mile a minute but I couldn’t think straight. My palms were sweating and I felt like I couldn’t breathe more than ever. But I had to keep calm and play my cards right.

It wasn’t until we’d balled up our napkins and conversation had fizzled out when he slid me what I assumed to be a peace offering. A York peppermint patty.

I took it though, and ate it as we collected and discarded our trash, and hoped the candy would calm my nerves or straighten out my thoughts or give me some sort of sign as to how to confront Harry.

I considered, for a second or two, letting it go. Pretending I hadn’t caught all the things I had all night. Going home and curling up in bed and never speaking to him again and possibly smashing my phone and/or laptop. But I couldn’t, for a lot of reasons, but mainly because I was done with letting people walk all over me. I’d promised myself that when I moved to New York and Harry fucking Styles wasn’t going to be the exception.

“You know, I have your Kik and I could sell it to magazines,” was the first thing that came out when the restaurant door shut behind us and we stepped outside, “Your blog too.”

Harry spun around to face me with wide eyes, like he hadn’t actually expected me to call him out like that. I hadn’t either really.

“I could end you,” I said matter-of-factly and leaned against the brick wall of the building in an attempt to hide the fact that my entire body was shaking. I needed to not think about it. That H was Harry and Harry was H. I needed to just tell him off, terrify him maybe, and leave.

“I-I-” Harry began, stepping closer and keeping his voice quiet even though there was no one around. The only light was from the few restaurants still open on the quiet block and the street was practically empty except for the occasional taxi.

“I’m not going to. Just know that I could,” I continued, crossing my arms and balling my hands into fists to keep myself together, “I’m going to go home and you’re going to go back to wherever the fuck you’re actually staying and we’re going to pretend none of this ever happened, alright? But I swear to god if I find out you pull this shit with anyone else, I will absolutely ruin you. Don’t doubt it for a goddamn second.”

And that was how I left a very famous boy band member in the middle of Soho for what I thought would be the last time.

*

As I walked home completely mortified and humiliated, I thought of eighty seven ways I could off myself.

Home was cold and dark and I didn’t think it was the best place for me to be. Not when I felt like in some fucked up way that I’d been betrayed. My entire body was shaking and I felt like maybe I was going to explode when I finally slammed the front door behind me.

And I tried to breathe and talk myself down, tell myself it didn’t matter, but it did. I fucking trusted him. More than I’d ever trusted anyone. Not only had he let me humiliate myself multiple times, but I was pretty sure I only found out because I’d picked up on clues he was too careless to cover up. Because that was just it, he didn’t care.

By the time I’d managed to (miraculously) feed Pickles and run a nearly boiling hot bath, I felt like my heart was going to explode or I was going to suffocate because I just couldn’t breathe. But I sunk into the water anyway and practically curled up into a ball because that was all I could manage when I was anxious and falling apart.

I was more embarrassed than I’d ever been in my life, mortified really. And really it was all my fault. I’d opened up to someone whose face I’d never even seen. I’d let him in and showed him parts of me no one had ever seen and I didn’t even know his name. And it’d been easy because it was the internet and the internet was nothing if not anonymity in the most basic form.

The worst part (besides the fact that I’d basically let it happen and I still had a sickening sense of betrayal throughout my whole body) was that the only place I could vent and be open and not worry about being judged had been taken away from me. Even if he miraculously unfollowed me and I changed my url, I’d never feel safe and secure on my own blog again. Which was so fucked up it made my chest and head ache for hours until I’d curled up on my mattress with every blanket I owned, still shaking and unable to get warm.

*

The next morning, Tuesday, came much too soon. I hit snooze way too many times and left myself only enough time to scramble to find something decent to wear and brush my teeth before barely making it to my first class.

After both of my classes, I still hadn’t turned my phone on or checked Tumblr once. Instead I went home and napped because if I didn’t I would’ve gotten on my computer and done something stupid before my study date.

Annie was nothing short of intimidating and I had no idea why she wanted to have coffee and study with me. She was an art major with a quick wit, grades I could only dream of, and hair that seemed to change color every week. That week her hair was a shimmery blue.

I ended up at the cafe ten minutes early. I’d gotten a text the other day with the address and I hadn’t thought much of it until I actually got there and took a booth in the back with a cup of tea. This was the cafe I’d met Harry in.

And it was stupid. It shouldn’t have fucked me up or made my chest tight because we’d only gone for dinner twice. But he was H. He was the one that read my writing and looked at my pictures and heard my inner thoughts, and still liked me. And that fucked me up horribly.

So instead of thinking about it, I pulled out my things. I took a seat at a corner table and figured that’d be the best place to be able to study. I liked corners mostly because you could see everyone there and you could tell if someone was looking at you.

Annie ended up arriving five minutes early which was nice because I didn’t have much more time to make myself sick to my stomach thinking about Harry/H, and bad because she was fucking intimidating and I was anxious around new people anyway.

“Hi,” she smiled coolly at me. Her nose ring and blue hair made my stomach churn.

“Hi,” I smiled back as she slid into the booth in front of me.

I knew Annie shouldn’t have been as intimidating as she was which only made me feel even worse. But I knew she was older and intelligent and fucking gorgeous and I wasn’t worthy of her time, really.

“How’re you? Do you want anything? Coffee or something?” Annie asked, still with a bright smile, and I wondered if she could smell fear. Or maybe she could see the bags under my eyes.

“I uh. Tea would be good,” I smiled and told her what I’d been drinking.

I turned back to my books in an attempt to not make myself anymore nervous as she went up to get drinks. And it was fine for a few minutes, my stomach wasn’t as knotted up, until I heard the bell above the door ding and a weird sort of hush seemed to fall over the room.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I breathed out almost instantaneously when my eyes landed on the figure, casually walking into the cafe. He hadn’t spotted me yet.

I hadn’t talked to him or posted on Tumblr or anything and yet there he fucking was, approaching the counter with tired eyes and his hands in his pockets. I ducked my head and let my hair fall in front of my face, hating myself for not sitting in Annie’s seat when I’d had the chance.

I wanted him to not see me, be completely unaware of the fact that I was even there, although I wasn’t really sure how well that would work out.

“Oh my god,” Annie mumbled when she finally slid back into the both and slid me a cup.

“What?” I looked up, trying to angle my face away from the boy at the counter, “Thanks by the way.”

“Harry fucking Styles was behind me in line,” her hazel eyes were wide in shock. I thought maybe I was going to be sick on the table. Someone like her should be laughing about it coolly, not looking like she might explode, “Would you take a photo for me if I asked him for a picture?”

I was definitely going to be sick. My palms were sweating and my chest was too tight and I wanted to run out the door. I couldn’t tell her no but I certainly couldn’t tell her why I couldn’t take a picture for her. She’d probably never believe me anyway.

So I swallowed harshly, feeling like my heart was going to beat out of my chest, “Y-yeah sure.”

She just smiled widely and grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my seat. Really all I could do was watch in horror as she tapped Harry on the shoulder as he was waiting for his drink with a polite, “Excuse me.”

He turned around with a smile on his face, eyes landing on Annie first with a, “Hiii,” before drifting over to me and then back to Anne. But then back to me. And then his smile flickered, “Hi,” he whispered more looking at me.

“Do you think maybe we could get a picture?” Annie asked nervously, hand still in mine and completely oblivious to the tension.

“Y-yeah,” his eyes suddenly shifted back to Annie, “Yeah of course.”

I couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes. He hadn’t looked like that the other day. But I pushed it to the back of my mind. I was still more than incredibly pissed off and humiliated.

“You wanna go first?” Annie asked, tugging me out of my thoughts.

“N-no,” I shook my head probably too quickly, “‘S alright. I’ll just take one for you.”

She shot me a funny look but handed me her phone anyway. I could feel Harry’s eyes burning a hole into my head.

I watched through the screen as Harry slung his arm around Annie’s shoulders, lopsided grin appearing on his face, and Annie grinned brightly with pink cheeks. I managed to take two pictures and miraculously neither of them were blurry from my shaky hands.

“Thank you so much,” she gushed when I handed her her phone back and then turned to me, “Gimme your phone, I’ll take one for you!”

“N-no,” I shook my head too quickly, eyes frantically shifting from Annie to Harry and back again, “‘S alright, really.”

Harry wasn’t masking his horror much easier either. His eyes were wide and his smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes anymore.

“‘S alright, like, i-if you don’t want to,” he gave what I supposed was meant to be a polite smile, but it came out more like a grimace.

Annie just shot us both funny looks, “C’mon, how often do you run into a popstar?!”

And then she was snatching my phone and gently pushing me towards him.

Harry looked more than hesitant, scared almost, and I wondered if Annie could see it past the grin still pasted on his face, like he was used to smiling when he needed to. He didn’t just sling his arm around my shoulders without a care like he had with Annie, he just carefully rested his hand on my hip and leaned into me. I wanted to scream or punch him or just run. I wondered if he could hear my heart trying to beat out of my chest as my own arm wrapped involuntarily around his waist and our sides pressed up together. My skin was crawling.

“Perfect!” Annie practically squealed. If I hadn’t been so focused on trying to get as far away as humanly possible from the situation, I would’ve laughed at how she sounded like a twelve year old.

“Thanks,” I mumbled and pulled away from him quickly. I didn’t dare look at his expression.

I listened as Annie gushed for another minute, thanking him a million times over and apologizing for bothering him. I heard him insist that it was fine, that he didn’t mind at all, but the entire time all I could feel was his eyes on me as I tried to look preoccupied with the dessert counter next to us.

The only thing that saved me was the barista calling his name with his drink.

The rest of Annie and I’s study date mostly consisted of her fangirling over the fact that she’d just met Harry Styles every time there was a break in conversation and me trying to hide my face from the same boy across the room. Every time I glanced up he was lost in writing in his journal but every time I looked away, I swore I could still feel him watching me.

It sort of made my stomach churn that the boy Annie was freaking out over was the same one writing something in his beat up journal that would end up on the blog that only I knew was his. It was still nearly impossible to make the connection between Harry and H in my mind.

By the end of it, I’d sort of hope Harry would leave before us. He didn’t. Which meant after we’d collected our things and promised to meet up again, I had to walk by him.

I waited until Annie left and got another cup of tea to go before I left. I thought maybe it’d be easier if he tried to say anything to me. I watched him nervously out of the corner of my eye as I waited for my tea. He hadn’t looked up in a while, just continued writing, completely consumed with it. It was strange to see the same person whose writing and photography I’d read and seen working on it right in front of me.

I got my cup of tea though and adjusted my bag on my shoulder and attempted to rush out the door as quietly as possible, hoping he wouldn’t even notice it was me.

I didn’t let out the breath I hadn’t even realized I was holding until I was a good ten feet outside of the door. I was fine, in the clear even. I’d never go back to that cafe again and it would be fine, I’d never see him again. I still had no idea what I was going to do about the blog situation but at that point, I just felt like an elephant was lifted off my chest because the odds of me ever running into him again after seeing him twice in the same place in a city of millions, was nearly impossible.

I didn’t count on him running after me.