Man With a Gun

Sara Brookman lives with her mom now that her Dad left them, but she's just like any other girl. When she heard One Direction's music, she couldn't help but to fall in love, like millions of fans. After she wins backstage passes she's ecstatic. But her feelings suddenly change to the opposite when she meets them and sees a mad man pointing a gun towards Harry. How will Sara somehow stand out to save the innocent lives? Sara puts all her trust in fate to guide her growing relationship with Harry, but can that be enough. Copyright © All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author.

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31. 31. Sewing It Back Up

I don't know exactly what has been happening to my relationship with Harry, but lately, I'm not sure it could be defined as a relationship at all. It's like we've become distant friends; the kind that roll their eyes when you hear each others names. Disconnected, unprotected, disrespected. These are all fine words that describe us.

As I stand in the grocery store, I stare blankly at the wall taking in everything that just happened. I try my very hardest to ignore all the eyes on me. I don't move a muscle until I have to, so I grab my bags and get the hell back home.

After a couple solitary hours locked in my room, under my bed sheets I think back to the good old days. When we broke all the wrong rules for all the right reasons. When the fire was still burning. But something has just broken. A support has just crumpled, and to fix it is as hard as finding a needle in a hay stack it seems. I hide myself under my covers, in hopes that my embarrassment won't find me there. I peak my head out just a bit and see my face staring back at me through my obnoxiously large mirror.

If my relationship or whatever we had is almost over, I can't possibly make it worse. And with this conclusion, I decide to force my legs over to his house and figure this out the old fashioned way.

It's around nine o'clock when I walk myself over. It's pouring rain and winds are freezing for once. I can't help but to shiver in my fall jacket. As I walk, I realize I have no idea what I'm going to say, but I don't bother trying to figure it out because like I said, I don't think I can screw up this relationship anymore than I already have.

A few more steps and I am knocking away at his door. I here a trail of footsteps to the door and it is opened by Harry. "I wasn't expecting you." He says.

"I wasn't expecting me either." It's the truth. I didn't expect myself to build up the confidence to walk to Harry's house right after a huge fight but look at me now.

I'm still standing in the pouring rain as he looks at me then up at the sky and back at me. My face is dripping water and it's about to be soaked with water from my own eyes if he doesn't let me in. I refuse to barge in, I will stand here if it kills me until he invites me in. I made a step of coming all the way over here, now Harry has to make a step, too.

I look down and cross my arms, pretending to look busy somehow. There is no silence despite the lack of words since the rain slaps the pavement and echoes through my ears.

I glance slightly back upwards and see his hand outstretched. I grab it with the tiniest hint of a smile and he pulls me through his door. Once the door is closed behind me, the real silence sets in and I can hardly think straight. Why am here again?

"Why don't we go upstairs?" Harry offers. He seems tense but not hot tempered. But you never know he might just turn on his heels.

We approach his bedroom and he closes his door behind it. "Why did you yell at me at the store today?" The words practically fall out of my mouth, I suppose my mind was eager to know.

He sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hand through his hair. After letting out a loud breath, he starts.

"Sara, you've changed. I don't know who you are anymore but I miss the old Sara Brookman. It seems like every time we go out all you do is complain in my ear or find something to complain about. I need you to stop being stuck up and start appreciating the little things I do for you." His words are gentle yet intimidating and tie a knot in my stomach.

The cold air and water from outside still seeps under my jacket. I want to rip the flimsy piece of fabric off but I can't move. He then walks over to me and pulls my jacket off. My arms tingle at his touch and I'm even more cold when it's off. Now I'm in a spaghetti strap tank top shorts that ride up. The level of comfort I have right now is zero, and Harry's lecture isn't helping.

"Here, change into these." He says monotonely and he slides open the drawer to pull out a pair of his black sweatpants and a plaint white tee.

"No it's fine, I shouldn't be staying long anyways."

He gives me a concerned look. "Your dripping wer. I can't imagine you feel good in that." I am somewhat happy that he cares so much and I accept the neatly folded clothing.

I go to the bathroom to change into the soft materials. It feels so warm compared to my sobbing clothes. I really like wearing Harry's clothes, they make me feel like he's always next to me, squeezing me tight, never letting me go. I walk back into his bedroom and find him laying across top his comforter.

"So... are we okay now." I say shyly.

"Are you going to start having more appreciation for the things I do. All I want is for you and I to be happy together and you seem to always find the negatives and point them out." His voice calm. After he says this I realize that I kind of have been acting like a jerk towards him. I just need to live a more chill lifestyle I guess. Not worrying about everything and not acting like a maniac when girls crowd him or we're on a magazine together.

"I'm sorry Harry. I didn't realize I didn't even realize I was giving you a cold shoulder. I promise I won't be so angry anymore. I want," And I am interrupted by the tears that slowly trickle down my blushing cheeks. I feel Harry's eyes look up at mine and he waits for me to finish my sentence. "Sorry," I breath out. "I want us to work, Harry." Then he gets up and embraces me. He wraps his arms around my head and I lay my face sideways on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his back.

"We can make it work, Sara." He tells me. His voice puts me at ease and I don't let go of him as we start to sway side to side. A couple silent minutes pass and my tears are all gone. I move my head to look up at him and he blurts, "Did you know you look sexy in my clothes."

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