Chapter 30

I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S ALREADY CHAPTER 30.Before you read the chapter, I just want to let out a small rant regarding Haylor.

Trust me, I don't like Haylor at all. In fact, I hate seeing them together. But calling Taylor awful names and sending Harry hate and unfollowing him is just rude and pathetic. If you love Harry, then you shouldn't be sending him or his girlfriend hate. You know how hard he takes the hate. Remember how he was crying on A Year In The Making because he saw all of that hate? What if he sees this and starts crying? It will be YOUR fault, his own FANS. If you don't like Haylor, then just leave it be. Leave your rude opinions to yourself. At least respect it. It's Harry's relationship, not yours.

And with that, my rant is D O N E.

Enjoy the chapter xx

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Carly’s POV:

                “When you come back, you need to visit us at school,” my friend, Sammy, says.

               Sammy was a very good friend of mine back in London. Remember that video of me dancing with a bunch of my friends? Yeah, Sammy was one of them. She’s a senior in my old high school and a cheerleader. I was talking to her on the phone and she told me the next time we arrive in London, that I should come to the next game where the cheerleaders would be cheering at and just visit on a regular school day. So far, I was loving the idea.

 “Sammy, that would be amazing,” I laugh. “But right now, we’re in the US.”

 “Oh snap!” Sammy laughs. “How’s the tour coming along?”

I smile. “Amazing,” I reply. “We’re in Miami.”

 “I’ve always wanted to go there,” Sammy muses. “So,” she adds with a sly tone. “How’s your boyfrand?”

I chuckle, but that didn’t stop the blush from coloring my cheeks. “He’s great. He’s really sweet.”

“Aw,” Sammy coos. “What’d he do?”

I sit up straighter, remembering what Harry did just yesterday. “Well, I was getting a lot of hate, you know from the fans,” I start off. “And I was crying and Harry just calmed me down and held my hands. It was a really sweet gesture, and it was enough for me to forget the hate.”

“Awwwwww,” Sammy says. “I wish Kevin did that,” she adds, referring to her boyfriend.

I let out a laugh. “Kevin’s sweet! What’s wrong with you?”

“I know,” Sammy giggles like a school girl. “He’s perfect.”

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I roll my eyes, and just then, I heard a loud thud coming from the bottom of the bus. “Sam, I have to go. I think the boys just broke something.”

            Sammy laughs. “Goodluck. I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”

            “Bye,” I say, and then hung up. Putting my phone in my pocket, I go down the stairs of the bus and enter the living room. No one’s in there, and I hear laughter and talking coming from the kitchen, so that’s where I go. “Boys?” I ask as I enter, and stop dead in my tracks. Standing there in the middle of the kitchen, was Harry covered head to toe by flour. He had flour on his face, arms, legs, neck, chest, hair, everywhere. All you could see was white, and it was honestly the funniest thing I have ever seen. “H-Harry?” I ask in between laughs.

            Harry turns to look at me, smiling slightly. “Uh, hey, Carls,” he says.

            “What h-happened t-to you?” I ask, trying to restrain myself from laughing.

            Harry’s smile turned into a frown as he glared at Louis. “Ask him,” he said through gritted teeth.

            Louis just smiles innocently. “I was trying to get the flour and it slipped from my hands!” he lied.

            “All over Harry?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, causing all of the boys except for Harry to burst out laughing. “I don’t even wanna know,” I shake my head, and then grab Harry’s flour-filled wrist. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

            Harry grumbles as I drag him to the nearest bathroom, and then turn on the tap. As lukewarm water comes out, I motion for Harry to put his head in the sink. “Why?!” he asks with a horrified face.

            “Do you want to get that flour out of your precious curls or not?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, and he sighs in defeat. As he puts his head in the sink, with his face facing the ceiling, I use my hand to gently put some water in his hair. “This is gonna take forever,” I sigh as I start watering out the flour.

            “It’s all Louis’ fault,” Harry grumbles. “My hair,” he adds with a whimper, causing me to crack a smile.

            I shake my head as I let out a chuckle. “You care more about your hair than I care about mine,” I tell him.

            Harry rolls his eyes as I massage some flour out of his scalp. “You would care if you had beautiful hair like mine.”

            I stop massaging and stare down at his flour covered face with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, so my hair isn’t beautiful?”

            Harry’s eyes widen, realizing what he said. “N-No! That’s not what I –”

            “Save it, Styles,” I say, pretending to be mad at him and continued massaging his had to get the damned flour out.

            “Carly!” he whines, pouting slightly.

            To shut him up – and more so get revenge – I cupped my hand under the faucet as water collected in it, and then I splashed it on Harry’s flour covered face. He gasped in surprise, not expecting that, and jumped up straight as he reached for the towel and furiously rubbed his face in it, all the while with me cracking up.

            “What the hell, Carly?!” he exclaims, and I can see the amusement lingering in his green eyes.

            “That’s what you get for saying I don’t have beautiful hair,” I smirk, washing my hands. “The flour’s out of your hair. Now take a shower, you filthy being.”

            Harry looks down at himself and then back at me, that sexy smirk on his face. This can’t be good. Harry spreads his arms out and takes a few steps closer to me. “Not before I get a hug.”

            My eyes widen as I start shaking my head. “Harry, no,” I say, taking a step back.

            “Aw, come on, Carls,” he pouts. “Don’t you wanna hug your boyfriend?”  he adds with a smirk.

            See, whenever he calls himself my boyfriend or if anyone else does it, my heart starts to flutter. But right now, I’m in danger of being hugged by a flour covered boy, so I ignore it. “Harry,” I say in a warning tone, and take yet another step back.

            But I hadn’t noticed how close I was to the bathtub, because when I took that step back, I bumped into it and was about to fall backwards. I closed my eyes, getting ready for the impact, but it never came because a strong arm was wrapped around my waist, preventing me from falling. Opening my eyes, I saw Harry smirking at down at me, his face dangerously close to mine.

            “Got you,” he whispers against my lips, his minty breath hitting my face.

            I give him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” I say quietly.

            “Now out,” he smirks, nodding his head towards the door. “I gotta shower.”

            I roll my eyes and walk out, closing the door behind me. As I’m about to walk away, Niall asks me, “Carly, what’s that around your waist?”

            Frowning, I look down at what Niall’s pointing at, and see the white flour around it. Realization dawned on me as I realized it had come from Harry’s arm. He did that on purpose! “Harry!” I shout.

            The only thing I was answered with was Harry’s echoing laugh.

******************

            “I’m Lori Sanders, and right now we have the beautiful and talented Carly McKinley with us!” The interviewer, Lori, grins as the audience cheers and I smile. “It’s wonderful to have you here with us, Carly.”

            “Oh, it’s great to be here,” I smile back, nodding.

            “I love your accent!” Lori compliments with a smile, and I grin back. “Okay, so your first album, Kiss And Tell, was released a few months ago. How’s that been for you?”

            “It’s surreal, really,” I answer. “I mean, I never imagined myself being in the position I am in today. I never thought that I would be on tour and would have my own album. And the fact that the fans are enjoying it so much just assures me that I did a good job on it.”

            Lori smiles. “I listened to a few of your songs from it, and I have to say they were amazing,” she says. “My favorite was Tell Me Something I Don’t Know,” she adds with a wink.

            I laugh. “Aw, thanks.”

            “Now speaking of tour, how’s that going for you?” she asks.

            “It’s crazy!” I say with a chuckle. “I’m going to all of these cities and countries that I never thought I would get to go to, and now I’m actually living it, it’s so much fun.”

            Lori nods. “Have you always wanted to travel around?” she asks.

            I shrug. “I have,” I answer. “But when I was little, traveling was nothing but a dream that may never come true.”

            “How come?” Lori asks.

            “When I was little, I didn’t really grow up with a lot of money,” I tell her. “My dad had left us when I was really young, so it was just my mum and I. She had three different jobs to help pay the bills and provide us with a food and a home. So traveling around was not much of an option. When I was about fifteen, I think, my mum had married my stepdad, Brian, and he helped us a lot too,” I smile, remembering how Brian, or Dad, as I like to call him, helped us through our time in need, because he was so deeply in love with my mum. “And when I was signed to a record deal and I got this wonderful and amazing job, I had given the first pay check to my parents, and bought them a new and bigger house in London.”

            I hear the crowd let out aw’s along with Lori, and I smile. “That’s so sweet,” she says, and I can tell that she actually means it. “But do you think of what you’re doing as a job?”

            I think for a moment, and then shake my head. “By now, no, I don’t,” I tell her. “I like to think of it as living my dream, no matter how many other singers say that. Like, what I have been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl, I do that for a living now. It’s just amazing.”

            Lori grins and nods. “Now we’re gonna change topics a bit,” she says. “Word on the street is, Carly, that you’re dating a certain boy band member? From One Direction, perhaps?”

            As she says this, two pictures of Harry and I from Barcelona a couple of days ago come up on the screen. In both of them Harry and I are either smiling or holding hands. Aw. But knowing that Harry is backstage watching us, I know he’s most likely smirking at this. I can’t help but blush a bit, and say, “Yeah, yeah it’s great.”

            “How long have you been going out?” Lori asks, interested to know.

            “A little over a week, almost two,” I chuckle.

            Lori plays with the index cards she is holding and asks me, “And you’re on tour with them, yes?” And I nod. “Does that benefit you? Having you be on tour with your boyfriend?”

            There it is again, the fluttering of my heart at the mention of the word ‘boyfriend.’ I nod and reply, “Yeah, it’s really convenient. We basically have the same schedule and days off, so it helps a lot.”

            “And what about the other boys, do you get along with them?” she asks.

            I nod with a smile. “Yeah, I do. The four of them are like my older brothers, since I am the youngest out of all of them. They’re just really funny and sweet, and we all get along really well.”

            The interview drags on a bit longer, and when it finally ends, I say goodbye to Lori and walk off the stage. As I enter backstage, I spot Harry and he sees me, a smile on his face. I walk over to him and once I reach him, he automatically wraps his arms around my waist. “I have a bone to pick with you,” he says with a teasing smile.

            “Yes?” I ask with a raised eyebrow, my hands resting on his forearms. Good lord this kid has muscles.

            “How come you never told me about your childhood?” he asks, and I start biting the inside of my cheek.

            “Well,” I say, dragging out the word. “I guess I didn’t want you or anyone else to judge me. When you find out someone grew up extremely poor, you immediately think that they have nothing, or will make nothing of themselves. You feel pity for them, and I guess I just didn’t want you to think of me that way,” I end with a shrug, still biting the inside of my cheek.

            Harry furrows his eyebrows a bit. “I would never judge you, you know that,” he says, tightening his grip around my waist. “And I would never pity you, either. Don’t think of yourself so lowly.”

            “It’s kind of hard not to when there never was a reason in my childhood to smile,” I tell him, and he lets out a smile. “Plus the bullies never helped, either,” I add with a mumble, mostly talking to myself.

            “What?” Harry asks, his head snapping to me. Yikes, he heard me. “You were bullied?”

            “Can we not talk about this here?” I ask, getting out of his grip. “I wanna go back to the hotel.”

            Harry frowns at me, since he wasn’t done with the subject, but I just wanted to get away from this public place. He called Randy over and told him that we needed to go, and Randy nodded and got the car. Once it was here, Harry and I slid in the back while Randy was up front, and we started driving to the hotel. “Carly,” Harry says, destroying the silence in the car. “Why didn’t you tell me you were bullied?”

            I sigh frustratedly, running a hand through my hair. “It was a long time ago,” I say, facing him. “Kids bullied me because I was poor and had nothing, and they had everything that I wanted. They didn’t stop calling me names and stuff, but it was never physical. Thank goodness for that. But I’m over it. It’s done.”

            I turn away from Harry, not wanting to say anything else, and look out the window as we drive through Miami. “You’re not,” I hear Harry’s voice say.

            I turn back towards him, slightly frowning. “What?” I ask, confused.

            Harry looks at me intently, his green eyes boring into my brown ones. “You’re not over it,” he says. “You were bullied and they hurt you. Don’t lie and say you’re over it, because I know you’re not.”

            Instead of arguing, I plainly say, “You don’t know anything.”

            I can tell that got Harry a bit mad as he glared at me. “Then why don’t you tell me, Carly?” he asks, his voice slightly rising. Thank goodness Randy couldn’t hear anything because of the window-wall that seperates the back of the car and the drivers seat. It was closed, so Randy had no idea what was going on. “Why don’t you tell me how it still hurts you when you think about those bullies?” Harry says, anger in his green eyes. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re bottling up all of your hurt feelings inside when you see the hate you’re recieving online? Why don’t you tell me how you’re hurting inside, but just don’t want to show it because you’re afraid of being judged as a weak person? Why don’t you tell me, Carly?”

            I look in his green eyes as I see anger and hurt lacing them. Why in the world is he hurt? Tears sting my eyes as I successfully push them back and the car stops in front of the hotel entrance. Clearing my throat slightly, I force myself to look into Harry’s eyes and say, “Why should I tell you anything when you already know all of it?” And with saying that, I open the van door and walk inside of the hotel, making sure no one saw the tears once again gathering in my eyes.