“Why does it always seem like you’re alone?” That didn’t come out the way I meant it to, but I heard Violet’s surprised laugh fill the tiny speaker a second later. Thank God she had a sense of humor.
“Probably because I usually am. This may come as a shock to you, but I’m not exactly miss popularity.”
“You’re absolutely right. I’m shocked. Simply shocked,” I said sarcastically.
“You’re so rude to me. I don’t know why I put up with you.”
I laughed, knowing she wasn’t hurt in the slightest. I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Well, it’s clearly because I’m the only thing standing between you and complete isolation. You’d probably’ve turned into some crazy cat woman at this point if it weren’t for me.”
“Cat lady,” Violet added quickly. So quickly that I almost couldn’t make out the words.
“What?” I had the urge to hold the phone away from my face for a moment, just so I could give it the look that I really wanted to give Violet. A “what the fuck are you talking about” look. In a nice way, of course. I fought the instinct, instead taking a look out of the deeply tinted windows that gave me a much-appreciated sense of anonymity. I watched the scenery roll by as I waited for her explanation.
“Crazy cat lady. Not cat woman. Cat woman is a character from Batman. If you said that I would turn out like cat woman that would actually be a compliment. Because then I’d be a badass cat burglar in a sexy costume. So, yeah, get it right.”
I paused, taking in her words for a second, wondering how I should react. Currently, I had a few different options. First, she was actually crazy. Who corrects something like that? I was insulting her and that’s what she cares about. Which brought me to my second reaction. It was weirdly attractive that she literally seemed not to care at all what I or anyone else thought about her. It was like she lived in her own little world. And finally, the one reaction I definitely couldn’t share was wishing that I was by her side so I could have cut her weird little speech short with a kiss. Or a hundred.
I went with the safest option since I was an idiot. “No wonder I’m your only friend. I’m not even sure anyone would trust you with a cat in the first place.”
“Ok, I’m ending this conversation.”
I laughed and whined, “No, Vi! Don’t be like that.” I hoped that I didn’t sound as pathetic as I was pretty sure it did. Please let her think I was joking, I prayed silently.
“Calm down, you butthead. I’ll see you in like five minutes.”
I felt a little pull of anticipation as I thought about seeing her again. Even though we weren’t doing anything even slightly exciting, I couldn’t help but be happy just to see her again. It had been a few days since our little sleepover. And yes, I was referring to it as a sleepover. It was the most suggestive way I could say it without crossing any lines. I needed it to be at least a little suggestive for my own ego. How was it that I spent the night with the girl I so desperately want, but we did nothing? In fact, we did less than nothing. We fell asleep watching a movie. To say I was frustrated was an understatement.
“Did you just actually call me a butthead? Are we in the second grade? Do people even—”
She cut me off, yelling, “I’m hanging up on you now!” And then she did, but I smiled, imagining the embarrassed blush I knew would already be spread across her cheeks.
Thirty minutes later, I was witnessing that blush in person.
As soon as I walked in the door, Violet led me to her room. Me being me, I immediately flung myself onto her bed, landing with my head half on the pillows and half on her bedside table.
“Owww,” I groaned, reaching back to touch the already swelling section of my head.
“Oh my gosh, are you ok?” Violet, said putting her hand to her mouth. She was trying her best to look upset for me, but I could see that she was actually trying to cover up a laugh.
I smirked. “Thanks for your concern, darling,” I said drily, still rubbing the back of my head. “I could have a concussion for all you know.”
She stopped laughing, and laid down carefully beside me. She seemed hesitant to allow any piece of her body touch mine. “Fine, I’m sorry,” she sighed. “How’s your head?”
“It’s not so bad,” I said, ignoring the little bubble of personal space she seemed so intent on preserving and scooting closer to her. Her body was rigid at first, but she slowly began to relax into my side.
I felt Violet shuffle a bit beside me as she turned to face me, but because of our relative heights, we weren’t so much looking eye to eye as she was looking eye to my arm. It was sort of awkward, but neither of us seemed to care much. “Do you need ice or anything?” she mumbled into my shoulder.
“No, I’m good, babe,” I said quietly, scooting down so I could actually look her in the eye.
I just stared at her for a moment, while she was distracted by something across the room. I couldn’t tell if she was actually distracted or just pretending to be distracted. I wasn’t sure it mattered. “Violet…”
She turned to face me once again, and I realized that I didn’t really know how I was going to finish that sentence. But I wasn’t sure that mattered either.
I held her gaze as long as she let me, searching in her brown eyes for something. I didn’t know what exactly, but I’d know it when I saw it. She didn’t give me a chance, though, turning away quickly as she tried to hide the blush creeping over her features.
“So, party planning!” I said, sitting up so quickly that my head felt light and my vision got narrow. I took a breath, realizing that I needed to figure out what this was. It didn’t really seem like a friendship anymore. It seemed like something more. Something I wasn’t even sure I wanted. I wanted to slap myself as I realized what I was thinking. I was contemplating a relationship with Harry. I was contemplating wanting that. A few weeks ago that thought wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. Well, it may have crossed my mind, but I’d never thought of it as a possibility. It wasn’t what I had wanted. A little over a month ago, I didn’t even know Harry. In less than a month, he’d be gone. Probably in London. But, he was a fucking popstar so who knew? He could be going to fucking Outer Mongolia for all I knew. It struck me that I really had no idea what Harry’s life was usually like. I got the impression that he was used to being busier than he was now. That he was used to staying in hotels, falling asleep in one city and waking up in another, talking to complete strangers about personal things. These were all things that Harry was probably used to, was more than probably good at, like he seemed to be good at everything else. And these were things I knew nothing about, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to learn. But then Harry sat up beside me, lightly rubbing the back of his head again and smiling like a lunatic, and I smiled back. I might’ve been confused as hell, but I wasn’t sure it mattered anymore.
“Of course you do,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Can’t help it if I have a lot of friends. People like me, Vi. I know that’s a difficult concept for you to grasp,” he said haughtily.
“You’re right. It’s pretty difficult to imagine people liking you enough to willingly spend time with you.”
“What’s your excuse, then?”
I smirked, pretending to have an answer. What was my excuse? Why did this boy have such a hold over me?
I pulled over my laptop that was somehow still laying unharmed at the edge of my bed, a mini-miracle, and opened up a new Word document. “Let’s make a list of stuff we have to do.”
I opened my eyes wide and stared at him. “What are you even saying?” Who hated lists? Was that even a thing?
He shrugged, unconcerned by the fact that I was clearly judging him. “Lists are boring. If you want to do something, just do it. Don’t waste time planning it out.”
“What about grocery lists?” This was just simple logic. Lists were necessary sometimes.
“I have an excellent memory,” he said, tapping the side of his head as if to illustrate his point.
“Whatever, we’re making a list. So I asked my parents.” Harry rolled his eyes, but I ignored him and continued. “They said I could have it on Saturday, and that they trusted me so they’re spending the night up in Santa Barbara and my brothers are chaperoning. It has to end at a decent hour and no alcohol.” Harry rolled his eyes again, but this time I just smiled, knowing I didn’t have to follow all the rules. I turned back to my computer, beginning to type out my list. “First, we need to make an invitation and decide who to invite.” I typed quickly, outlining my plan of attack. “What next?” I paused, letting my hands lightly tap the keyboard as I thought.
I looked over at Harry, who was looking down at my duvet, picking at a stray thread. He looked bored out of his mind. I mean, he still looked intense, but when didn’t he? It was just his intense stare was focused on a piece of fabric so he didn’t exactly seem super into the task at hand. I sighed quietly, and picked up my computer, shoving it in front of Harry. “Let’s make a Facebook invite.”
He looked up at me and smiled that stupid adorable Harry smile. I didn’t have to say, “You win,” because he already knew he had.
He pulled up the website, slowly. For as long as his fingers were, he was a ridiculously slow typer. He typed just as slow as he talked.
I waited as patiently as I could as he typed out the relevant details. I was sure whatever he wrote would be cooler than whatever I had planned, but as I thought more about it, I wasn’t sure if it mattered what we wrote. People would come. The girls, and some boys, would come for the sole fact that they knew that I knew Harry Styles. They hoped he would be there. Everyone else would follow. Suddenly, all the doubts were coming back.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I asked nervously.
Harry turned his attention away from the screen, looking at me thoughtfully. “Why makes you say that?”
I looked down, slightly embarrassed. As soon as this party happened, Harry would know exactly how many friends I didn’t have. Sure, we had joked about it, but I probably wouldn’t even know most of the people at my own party. And what if things got out of hand? What if Harry liked some other girl there more than me?
I cringed at that thought, how could my traitor mind come up with something like that?
“I’ve never thrown a party before.”
He shook his head, and I couldn’t help but take notice of the curls that fell onto his forehead. “Don’t worry about that, Vi. It’ll be great, and I’ll be there so it’ll be amazing.”
I tried to look reassured, but I still wasn’t so sure.
“Now, who should we invite?”
“No, don’t invite her!” Violet practically jumped on top of me, pushing my hand away from her computer trackpad. Apparently, she really didn’t want some girl named Ali to come to her party. She looked up at me, and it was clear that she knew just how ridiculous she looked. “She’s my cousin.”
“Of course,” I said sarcastically.
I laughed, covering my mouth in surprise as I realized how loud I was. “Alright, that’s a no then.” I smiled at Violet, content just to spend the afternoon with her even if the task at hand was a bit tedious.
However, a moment later, we were interrupted by a ringing phone. Violet’s phone. She leaned across me to retrieve it from where she had set it on her bedside table, and as she leaned back I saw the name “Alex Martin” illuminated on her screen. I rolled my eyes, despite my efforts not to. Of course he would call right now. Of course he would. What a fucking cockblock.
I took the opportunity to peruse Violet’s Facebook as she chatted with Alex “Massive Twat” Martin.
“Hey Alex,” Violet smiled into the phone, and I clicked on her newsfeed.
She smiled some more. I guessed Alex was saying something adorable. Frankly, it made me want to vomit. I clicked on her status bar.
She laughed, and the blinking cursor on the screen became too tempting to ignore.
“Oh, you already saw that?” She paused. “Yeah, Saturday.”
I typed as quickly as possible, which wasn’t all that quickly, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“I can’t wait!” She looked like she was just barely resisting the urge to clap her hands together in delight, and I hit post.
I smiled, secretly pleased with myself, but that didn’t last very long. I leaned back on my elbows as Violet kept talking. It was pretty rude if you asked me, but she wasn’t asking me. I was just a friend to her, which apparently meant Alex outranked me.
Unfortunately, since I couldn’t see Violet’s face from where I was sitting, I didn’t see what happened next. If I could’ve seen her, I probably would’ve seen her smile replaced by a look of confusion, and then a moment later, anger.
I didn’t see any of it, though, so I wasn’t prepared.
Violet said goodbye shortly, and whipped her head around to face me. She looked more than a little annoyed. “What the fuck, Harry?”
I looked at her blankly, no idea what was going on. One second we were good, joking and having fun, then she has a conversation with stupid Alex, and suddenly she hates me? What the fuck, indeed.
I was still lost. “What?”
“You didn’t tell me that Alex called.”
“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot.” Fuck. But she couldn’t possibly be that mad just because I’d forgotten to tell her about one phone call. Well, technically I hadn’t really forgotten. But he called at like 6am so it wasn’t totally inconceivable that I had forgotten. It hadn’t even been a particularly interesting phone call. I ran my hand through my hair, hoping she wouldn’t ask exactly what was said during this “forgotten” phone call.
She rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to say something, but then stopped, seeming to reconsider. A moment later she said, “Explain to me why Alex thinks you’re my boyfriend.”
“Umm,” I stalled, not really sure how to respond to her. I remembered, obviously, but I hoped she would mistake my hesitation for recollection. Truth was, I could recall perfectly how I’d all but told Alex that Violet and I were having sex. It couldn’t have been further from the truth, but I’d gone ahead and done it anyway. Because I’m a jealous idiot. I decided it was definitely best not to reveal exactly what was said. “I don’t really remember exactly what I said, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing is it?”
“But wasn’t the plan to make him jealous? So really, this is great.” I smiled, hoping this conversation was over.
But Violet didn’t smile back. “The plan was to make me look desirable, not taken!”
“But wouldn’t it make you more desirable to be taken by a someone like me?”
I didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Violet’s frown got even deeper. “Someone like you?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “You know, someone who is like, basically really desirable.” That didn’t come out right.
“What?” Clearly, this conversation wasn’t ending any time soon, and I had no idea where it was heading.
“I’m not desirable. Why would he want me? I’m not anything special. Other than the fact that you, Harry “My hair has its own fanclub” Styles, are pretending to want me. I always suspected that I wasn’t worth it, but thanks for confirming.” Violet looked on the verge of tears now, and I wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
“That wasn’t what I meant. At all.” She couldn’t have been more wrong.
I cut her off. “Violet, don’t do this. Any guy would be so fucking lucky to be with you. Honestly, Alex probably liked you before all this plan shit. He’d have to be an idiot not to.”
Violet was sitting, facing me, with her knees drawn up to her chest—assuming the classic insecure position. I reached out, grabbing her hand and pulling it toward me, hoping to draw her out of whatever mood she had fallen into, but she pulled it back. “What did you say to him on the phone?”
We were back to that? I couldn’t keep up with this. “I can’t remember.”
“Bullshit. Why won’t you just tell me?”
“Vi, it doesn’t even matter what I said. Clearly, it didn’t make a whole lot of difference to him. He just called you.”
She stared into my eyes for a few seconds, probably trying to find out what I wasn’t telling her. She looked down. I could tell she was thinking hard, about what, I wasn’t sure, but I could still see the questioning intensity in her eyes when she began to speak quietly. “Why didn’t you tell me that Alex called?”
Shit. She knew I was lying about forgetting, and I had no idea how to answer her without giving up everything. She didn’t look as mad as before, but I didn’t know how she would react, and that was terrifying. What if I told her how I felt, and she decided we couldn’t even be friends any more. She had become so important to me so quickly. I couldn’t lose her like this. I’d tell her eventually, but it had to be right. It couldn’t be when I got caught in a lie and had to tell her. It had to feel right. “Violet…” Again, I started a sentence I didn’t know how to finish, but this time it mattered.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this, but I wish you wouldn’t lie to me.”
“I’m sorry.” I knew this was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of my mouth. Why couldn’t I get anything right with her?
“So you admit that you’re lying, but you still won’t tell me why.” She paused, most likely hoping I would just give her the missing piece of the puzzle and make it all better, but I couldn’t. “I don’t understand.” She looked more sad than angry now. Somehow, it was so much worse than before. And there was nothing I could say. Nothing I would say. “Whatever, Harry.” She was telling me to leave, and I wasn’t going to argue with her.
I stood up, feeling like the worst person in the world. “I’ve got to go,” I lied again, “but I’ll see you on Saturday, right?”
Violet just shrugged, and didn’t even bother to walk me out. I didn’t blame her. I didn’t really like myself much at the moment either.
After Harry left, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I stayed sitting on my bed, trying to make myself as small as I could possibly be. I just felt so stupid.
I knew, going in, that this friendship couldn’t last. There was a fundamental difference between Harry and I, and it came down to the simple fact that he was somebody and I was nobody. I knew that.
I knew I shouldn’t have let myself get close to him, but I’m not sure I had much choice in that. He had charmed me completely, almost instantly. And the worst thing was, I knew exactly what was happening. I knew all along. I saw it all coming, but I let it happen anyway.
I saw myself getting too attached, too quickly. As sad as it was, I wasn’t used to feeling so wanted. I saw myself relying on him, craving his company, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. It was foreign to me, but it was wonderful.
I buried my face in my arms, hoping that if I couldn’t see the world, it wouldn’t be able to see me either. I was aware that I had lashed out at Harry, but he had hit on something deeper, and it was like I couldn’t control myself. But nothing I said wasn’t true. I just hadn’t meant to say it out loud, especially not to Harry.
Part of me just wanted to cry, but the other part wanted to break things. I hated myself for getting mad at Harry, and I desperately wanted to apologize and get my friend back. But he lied to me. He was still lying to me. And I was angry. So angry that I felt like calling him up just to yell at him some more.
I lifted my head, blinking as my eyes readjusted to the light. There was nothing I could do about the Harry situation at the moment. I grabbed my computer, hoping for some type of distraction.
My Facebook profile greeted me, and I briefly wondered if Harry had been looking through it. I dug my fingernails into the palms of my hands as I realized distracting myself from that curly-haired prick might be a little harder than I thought. I couldn’t have been more right. A second later, I scrolled a little further down the page, curious as to what Harry may have seen there. That was when I saw my latest status update and nearly threw my computer against the wall.
“For everyone wondering: Harry Styles is just as great as you think he is. And get your minds out of the gutters, I don’t mean in bed! I mean on the floor ;)”
It already had 124 likes. And, soon, I was sure it would have a lot more. As soon as the fans found it (if they hadn’t already), the whole world would see it.
The guiltiness and sadness from before were gone. They were swallowed up by the rage I was feeling now. Harry and I weren’t even friends at the moment, and he was still finding ways to fuck with me.
I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text.
Don’t bother showing up on Saturday.
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