I wake the next morning with a pounding head, unable to open my eyes due to the pain that's inevitably going to accompany the bright sunlight pouring through my hotel window. For a moment my hangover is the only thing I can focus on, but then memories from last night come flooding back into my mind and I know that I'm no longer in any position to ignore what happened.

Harry beat that man up... what was his name? Chad? Brian? I can't remember, but I do remember Harry drawing blood and throwing him to the ground. I remember yelling that I had it under control, Harry ignoring me, then Harry finally starting to figure out what horrors my past really holds.

Last night I found Harry to be in the wrong- he was, wasn't he? I could have handled myself, I could have escaped the situation unscathed, or at least that's what I thought in that moment... As I begin to think about the events of last night without my judgement impaired by the influence of alcohol, I realize that maybe the situation was not as calm as I interpreted it to be.

I realize that I probably would have been in a lot more trouble if Harry hadn't showed up and stopped... Sam? Jake?

This realization makes me feel terrible. I shouted at Harry for saving me. He didn't deserve that kind of treatment, especially when he put himself at risk to ensure my security. I should have thanked him with open arms last night instead of running away, disgracefully ungrateful.

I've also come to realize that I've continued to keep the truth from Harry. I didn't own up to my past, even when Harry questioned why I thought I was so prepared to handle the situation I was thrown into last night. I've dealt with drunk, aggressive guys coming onto me before- I usually know how to diffuse the tension and come out unharmed- but I gave Harry no explanation for why I know all that I do.

Of course, I still absolutely can't reveal the truth about my past, but I hope that Harry will be willing to settle for an apology on my part rather than a true explanation of exactly why I'm able to handle myself around men off their hinges. I've tried to leave that part of my life behind me and I know my position on the show will be in significant danger if Harry, or any of the women, ever become clued into what used to be my reality.

Although I can't tell Harry about that, I can apologize for being an unequivocal ass after he saved me. Who knows what that horrible man could have done to me, especially while I was inebriated and hardly capable of thinking reasonably. Sure, I wasn't black-out drunk, but I definitely wasn't sober enough to properly deal with the situation.

I mentally scold myself and realize I must attempt an apology at some point. The next time I'll be seeing Harry is in another 2 days and I hope beyond hope he's not too mad at me. After all, not only did I flirt with a random man right in front of him, but I was also the most unappreciative bitch after being rescued.

I sigh, annoyed at myself, and roll out of bed slowly. I hardly feel up to conversing with the other women right now, but I know I must appear as if nothing is out of the ordinary after the events of last night if I want to keep my spot on the show safe.

I groggily drag myself into the shower, finding it unoccupied by either Kiana or Tanya. I leisurely wash my hair and body, relishing the few moments I have alone, at no risk of disturbance, and attempt to silence the thoughts telling me that I've ruined the relationship Harry and I had begun to build.

2 weeks ago I would have felt bad about shouting at Harry only because it put my place on the show at risk. Now, I find that's hardly the reason for the disgust I feel with myself. Harry and I had been getting along so well up until last night. I've forgotten all about our misunderstanding back in LA and I'm starting to feel something... weird. Something I haven't felt before. I can hardly put a name to it, but it scares me. Now, however, it seems I've ruined whatever those feelings stemmed from along with any favour Harry may have felt towards me.

I remember attempting to convince myself while on Harry and I's secret date that I'm the same girl who arrived in LA, who's only intentions were to make bank and leave. Now, trying to convince myself of the same thing is nearly impossible. Sure, I still need the money, but is that really the only reason I'm still on this awful show? Is money really the only reason I'm still putting up with these terrible women and producers and group dates and cameras?

It has to be- or at least that's what I like to think- but I know something has changed. Something is different, on the inside, as if a piece of myself has suddenly clicked into place. But I have no idea what it is.

I want to attribute my feelings to the fact that I finally seem to have a sense of purpose- I'm no longer idly living out my depressing life back in New York, but instead seem to legitimately mean something to someone- or at least that's what it feels like.

But that's no longer true. I've done something unspeakable to poor Harry for no reason, even after he's been so sweet to me for all these weeks.

I cringe as I rinse conditioner from my hair and get out of the shower. I dress myself, my headache starting to calm down, and pad softly down the hall towards the living room. I find that none of the other girls appear to be in their rooms and hear a large commotion coming from the area which I'm walking towards.

I hardly know what could have the women this excited so early in the morning, but I've come to learn that it's not particularly difficult to get them riled up. For example, a simple date card, a story about Harry, or even Harry just saying hello would have them cheering-

Harry saying hello would have them making this much noise... I stop in my tracks, almost in the living room but not quite, still obscured by the wall of the hallway. There's no way...

I tentatively walk out from behind the shelter of the corridor. I find 10 women all gathered on the couch, a few stragglers here and there wandering, and in the exact middle of them all, I see Harry. Of course. My breath catches in my throat and I have no idea what to do. I obviously can't act as if everything is normal, but maybe I can use this time to gage whether or not Harry is really pissed.

I feel like a guilty puppy walking into the room. Harry doesn't look away from Perrie to acknowledge my entrance and I can't help my brows from furrowing together with worry. I'm afraid that Harry will ignore me as he once did back in LA. Now, however, I have no reason to be mad at him for doing so- it's my fault and he's entirely justified.

I perch myself awkwardly on the arm of the sofa next to Kiana and lamely attempt to listen into conversation without being distracted by Harry. My heart seems to be beating out of my chest as I sneak glances at him discreetly and pray that he doesn't hate me. I'm not quite sure how I would feel if it turned out he really did despise me.

Harry doesn't seem to want to turn in my direction and I hope that him ignoring me is only a coincidence and not intentional. I sit for another minute, but when Harry makes no move to talk with either me or any of the women sitting near me, I rise again.

Instead remaining on camera I elect to walk to a producer standing nearby, surveying us all.

"How come Harry is here?" I ask quietly, making sure no one else can hear me speak as I pose my question.

"We needed more footage of him with you guys since the cameras took a break last night. We thought he might as well come here." The producer explains and I nod in understanding. Now I know Harry hasn't just showed up randomly, but I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing. I thank the producer and move back into the living room. As I walk towards the large couch, Harry suddenly turns from Perrie on his left to Tanya on his right, subsequently catching sight of me.

His eyes meet mine for a moment, but I see no smile to indicate a greeting, no wink, and he's definitely not calling me over to sit with him. Instead, he makes fleeting eye contact and his expression remains stone cold before he turns to Tanya and wraps her in a jubilant hug.

I hug my arms to myself protectively and stare down at the ground instead of ahead, too scared of making eye contact with Harry again. Well, he's definitely not happy with me...

I wince as if I've been physically harmed. There's no hiding the expression of pure anxiety on my face now. I don't care who see's me- the absolute guilt and disgust I feel within myself is too overwhelming to mask.

I sheepishly shuffle away from Harry to the other side of the couch where I take a seat next to Christie without a word. I have no idea what to do- there's no way for me to apologize now while we're surrounded by all the other girls and approximately 5 cameras. The rejection I feel is gnawing at my insides.

I sit for another 5 minutes silently, mulling over all the possible things Harry could be thinking about instead of paying attention to any sort of conversation. However, I can't tune out Christie's high pitched exclamation-

"Harry! Come over here! I want to see you!" She whines, outstretching her arms and gesturing towards Harry like an infant. He flashes her a charming smile and rises, trekking over towards us, and I realize I'm in his direct line of sight.

Harry doesn't seem to hesitate as he sits down next to Christie, turning to face her and, in doing so, turning to face me. He greets her with a hug and a big smile, before turning to me curtly.

"Charlotte." He acknowledges my presence, but it sounds as if he's forcing himself to greet me. I cringe once again and all I can muster is a weak smile before staring back down at the ground in shame. What have I done?

Christie starts to blabber animatedly about one thing or another as I'm forced to sit in silence and listen to Harry encourage her sentiments.

"I had a great time last night! What did you think Charlotte?" Christie questions, innocently enough, from beside me, causing both her and Harry to shift their attention to myself. I barely have the strength to meet either of their stares.

"Yeah... it was really fun. What did you think, Harry?" I attempt to initiate any sort of conversation between us. However, I find instead of answering my question, Harry completely ignores it and turns back to Christie, beginning to talk with her once again. He pretended he didn't hear me.

Panic races through my body at record speed and I begin to go numb. Of all the decisions I've made in my life, last night's may be the stupidest in my recorded history. I absolutely hate myself- there's no possibility or reason for me to be angry with Harry for ignoring me- I deserve it. He promised that he hadn't treated the other women in the way he treated me. He told me that the only reason he kissed and touched them was because it's necessary for the filming of the show. Even after knowing all that, I still found myself another man to gift my affections to instead of Harry. What is wrong with me?

Additionally, not only did I flirt with another man in the place of Harry, but I also completely disregarded the risk he took in saving me. Harry would never do anything like I did last night. There is no one to be mad at but myself.

Sure, Harry had seemed satisfied once he'd taken me to the bathroom after catching me with the random man and... telling me off, but I know that whether or not I agreed to stay loyal, the damage had already been inflicted.

I sigh and sit silently as Harry chats with Christie and neglects me. Another minute passes and I can take it no longer. I rise from the couch and walk away, out of the living room and out of the damn apartment. I don't care if I anger the producers and make the other girls suspicious- I need to escape Harry's constant reminder of the fact that I'm a terrible person.

I walk a ways down the hall and lean against a bare strip of wall, close to the elevators. I'm hoping that no random hotel guest elects to leave their room right now and pray that no one fetches me from inside my own apartment.

I take deep breaths and hug my arms to myself, completely at a loss as to what action I should take next. I'm afraid that I've permanently ruined the relationship between Harry and I and, for some reason, the thought of this absolutely terrifies me. 2 weeks ago I couldn't have cared less whether or not Harry liked me, but now my heart feels heavy and I find absolutely no silver lining in my situation.

I stare down at the ground and, inexplicably, my eyes begin to water as they did last night. I've not cried in a very, very long time and I can't understand why the waterworks seem to be starting now. I scold myself and force the sting from my eyes to dissolve. The fact that I was close to tears disturbs me even further.

I spend another minute or so wallowing in my own misery and suddenly hear a door down the hall open abruptly.

I snap my head up to ensure I've not been caught by a producer, but instead I'm greeted with piercing green eyes and a stern expression. I take a deep breath and attempt to keep the shock I'm feeling from my expression.

Harry begins to walk down the hall towards the elevator and doesn't appear to want to stop.

"Harry." I call as he nears me, eyes straight ahead. He continues to walk, undisturbed.

"Harry." I attempt to stop him once again and, thankfully, this time he listens. He pauses in front of me and turns. His face is flat, unemotional, and his arms cross in disapproval.

"Harry, I'm so sorry." I lamely attempt to excuse myself. Harry stands, unfazed. He does not appear inclined to respond.

"I'm so sorry, I acted like a complete fucking idiot last night. I shouldn't have flirted with that guy." I apologize desperately, but my pleading does not cause Harry to move in the slightest.

"I know you would never do anything like that to me. I fucked up. You would never put me through that, and I'm so sorry I shouted at you. I didn't mean... I just was panicking and confused and you didn't deserve any of that." I ramble on, trying to express just how terrible I feel about the whole ordeal.

Harry sighs and looks down to the ground.

"Listen, it's not your fault that whoever the fuck that prick was-" he stops himself and takes a steadying breath- "that he forced himself on you. I know you were scared, Charlotte. I know why you shouted. I just- I wish you hadn't stormed off by yourself- something like that could have happened again on the street..." Harry appears to start to concede. I know what happened wasn't my fault, I just wish I had understood that Harry was trying to help me, not make the situation worse.

I sigh and look up into his eyes. I expect to see some softness now, and I do for a split second, but an angry fire behind his expression returns quickly.

"But I mean before that, in the club, with that guy... You're right, I would never do anything like that to you. I told you that I've never had another girl up to my room. I told you I only kiss them because of the cameras." Harry finally responds, and my insides begin to churn with an even stronger guilt.

"I know, I believe you. I feel absolutely terrible. I'm a horrible, awful person. I want to make it up to you, Harry, I'm so sorry." I plead, staring down at the ground now instead of meeting his burning gaze. As I do so, I glimpse Harry's knuckles and find they are split and covered in painful looking scabs. Instinctively, I reach out to take is hands in mine.

"Harry, oh god..." I trail off as I examine the wounds inflicting his skin, but he harshly pulls away. His eyes spark with an emotion I can't identify, but soon his expression is back to that of stone. Harry takes a step away from me. He continues on his way back down the hall without another word and stalks into the elevator. Another 5 seconds pass and I find I'm quite alone once more.

"Fuck!" I shout in frustration, unaware of what else I could possibly do to make the situation right. I apologized, I told Harry I was grateful for his intervention, I told him I was stupid for talking with the other man, what else is there left to do? Is it possible that there's no way to fix the situation at all? I can't fathom the thought. There must be some other action I can take to make Harry forgive me... anything at all.

I continue to rack my brain for possibilities as I reenter the apartment, ignoring the cameras, producers, and other women. I stalk past them all and into my, thankfully, empty room. I sit on my bed in frustration, my head in my hands as I attempt to conjure a solution.

I stare down at my suitcase as I do so and catch a glimpse of a piece of blue plastic sticking out from beneath my shirt.

Harry's keycard.

That's it. I have to go find Harry and talk to him face to face. I can't wait until I see him at the next cocktail party, or the next time he fleetingly visits the apartment. I have to go see him tonight.

***

I wait until 10 PM to make my escape from the apartment. Kiana and Tanya are, miraculously, already sound asleep and I figure that nobody else will reside in the living room. I change into jeans and a t-shirt in the bathroom, grab my sneakers from the floor, and tiptoe barefoot out of my bedroom. I find the hallway light to be off and hear no chatter wafting from the living room.

I'm thankful that I've been lucky so far and continue on towards the front door. As I arrive and slip on my shoes silently, I hear the creaking of a door from down the hall, but when I turn around to check, nobody stands behind me. I hope that someone has just entered their room without noticing me.

I wait a few more moments, ensuring the coast is clear, before standing slowly and turning the handle of the front door with the utmost care. Once I've successfully slipped out into the hallway and the door is soundly closed behind me, I let out a sigh of relief. I scan the vicinity for lingering producers or camera men, but find none and so carry on confidently towards the elevators- I've successfully departed from the apartment, now all that remains is to, well, convince Harry that I'm sorry and make him like me again. Should be easy.

I descend to the lobby and push through the revolving doors quickly. I check Harry's room key in my left hand for what must be the 100th time, confirming the room number and hotel name- 'Hôtel du Louvre', room 516.

I repeat these words like a mantra as I burst out onto the bustling street of Paris and walk in the direction I remember the producer leading me before my one-on-one with Harry. Sure enough, in 5 minutes I've arrived in front of Harry's hotel and I'm staring up at the huge, daunting building, nerves building in my stomach.

I feel a tremendous anxiety as I never have before, but nonetheless force myself to enter the hotel and walk across the lobby. I try to appear as if I belong, but it's hard when I want to collapse rather than confront Harry and persuade him to see my side of things.

With shaky fingers I board the elevator and punch in floor number 5. I stand with 3 other guests as we silently ascend and I find as a bell rings announcing I've arrived to my desired floor, my legs carry me out without my brain telling them to do so.

A million thoughts are racing through my mind as I attempt to picture every single possible scenario. Harry could completely forgive me and we could have great sex- that's the best case scenario, of course, but Harry could also refuse my apology and kick me off the show.

I suck in a nervous breath and wander down the hall, eventually arriving in front of a door marked 516. This situation feels eerily familiar to the first time I visited Harry's hotel room, however back then my persistent feelings of doubt and guilt were not present.

I wait another 3 seconds, attempting to gather myself as butterflies threaten to break through my stomach, then raise my fist weakly to knock 3 times against the wooden door of Harry's room. I standby with bated breath, too scared to move a muscle as I listen for a reply. However, a minute passes, then two, and there is no response.

There's no way Harry's asleep- is there? It's only 10 and, even if he was, he'd surely hear me knocking on the door. I decide it can't hurt to try once more.

I knock another 3 times against the door, a little more forcefully to ensure Harry hears me in case he really is asleep. However, another 2 minutes pass and there's still no answer. I feel an urge to get down on the ground and check if the lights are on from under the door, but I know I'll really be pushing the boundary of crazy with that action.

I attempt knocking once more, but to no avail. There's no answer. Harry must not be in his room. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?

I think about turning back and retreating to my own hotel. It was dumb of me to come here in the first place. Harry's not going to forgive me and as soon as the opportunity presents itself he's going to kick me off the show... Right?

But what if there's a chance of me, by some miracle, changing Harry's mind? I've got to try. With another deep breath I remove Harry's key card from my pocket and swipe it through the slot in the handle of the door. A red light turns green and I hear the lock click out of place.

I stand for a moment, debating whether or not this is a smart idea. Harry will not be impressed if he finds me in his room with absolutely no notice, but what other choice do I have? I need to talk to him and, as far as I can tell, this is my only chance before the rose ceremony.

I twist the knob of the door and enter. The lights are off and as I flick them on I'm greeted by a small, but comfortable, living room. It's decorated nicely and to the left there's a small kitchenette. I see a wall dividing the kitchen from something and assume a bed must be stationed around the corner.

Tentatively, I pad further into Harry's room to investigate and, sure enough, find a bed along with a closet built into the opposite wall, obscured from the rest of the room. To my dismay, Harry is nowhere to be found. He's not asleep, as I thought, but at least he wasn't just ignoring my knocks. Where could he have gone at a time like this?

I'm utterly confused- what do I do now? I already took a huge risk showing up here in the first place, but now I've broken into Harry's room without his permission, and he's not exactly my biggest fan at the moment. Oh, god...

I walk around and survey the room. I see Harry's patterned shirts strewn haphazardly across the floor and his various jeans discarded randomly through out the room. I almost smile to myself at the endearing messiness on display and, if I were not about to beg him for forgiveness, I would fold his clothes and put them away.

Right now, that seems like a little too much.

I do find that the bed has been made, although in a half-assed fashion, and I take a seat on the edge. I have nothing left to do except for wait. I hold my hands in my lap, rubbing them anxiously together, and go over my talking points in my head.

I have to try and convince Harry that me flirting with another man wasn't bad, that me completely disregarding his rescue efforts wasn't a terrible thing to do. I sigh in exasperation, already frustrated with my lack of argument. Harry has absolutely no reason to forgive me. The only fact I can think of to defend myself is that I was upset due to Harry spending time with the other women. However, that excuse is invalid, too. It's Harry's job to spend time with the other women. It's my job to build a relationship with him only.

I groan at my abhorrent behaviour and feel a little nauseous. I begin to lose my nerve. I should just leave before Harry finds out I was ever here in the first place. I'm just going to be rejected again and I don't know if I can handle the cold loathing in Harry's eyes for a second time today.

However, as I begin to rise, I hear the click of the door unlocking and the turn of the knob. I stand, waiting to greet Harry, my nerves more prominent than ever before, but suddenly freeze. I hear two sets of voices walking through the door.

"Well, this is it." Harry speaks, taking a few steps into the room. I can't see him, but I hear his heavy strides and know he's entered.

"Wow! So cozy..." Astrid speaks from beside him. My eyes go wide and I can't fathom what to do. Astrid cannot see me in here and Harry cannot see me in here. Oh god, oh god. I frantically spin and spy the only thing that may be able to conceal me.

Before Harry and Astrid round the corner and come upon the bed I'd previously been sitting upon, I dart for the closet built into the wall and silently slip inside. The door closes just as I hear Harry and Astrid walk further into the room and I have to focus on keeping my breathing silent as I listen to them talk. I can't see a thing- it's pitch black from where I stand, but I can hear them well enough.

"Thank you for having me up here." Astrid coos and now I can tell that they both sit upon Harry's bed. Oh no...

"It's no problem at all- a pleasure, actually." Harry responds, as charming as ever, causing me to cringe.

"I really enjoyed tonight." Astrid says and a spark of jealousy alights within me.

"Um, yeah..." Harry responds, a little hesitant, but agreeing with her nonetheless.

"You've never had anyone else to your room before?" Astrid questions. She sounds innocent enough, but I'm smart enough to understand that nothing Astrid says is innocent.

"No, no one except for you." Harry replies confidently and I can just imagine the smirk on his face right now. It takes everything in myself to stop from scoffing in disbelief. What the fuck is going on?

"Well, of course besides me all those other times..." Astrid drawls and my insides seize. What!? 'All those other times'? Just exactly how many times has Harry invited her out?

Harry laughs nervously and I'm going to assume he's nodding as he makes no reply.

"Aww, that's so sweet." Astrid croons and I want to throw up.

"Of course, how could I pass up your company?" Harry returns, equally as cringe worthy. How the fuck can this be happening? Harry literally ignored me today on the grounds that he'e never treated another woman on the show in the same way as me, but it seems that Harry is a fucking liar.

"I don't know, I wouldn't pass it up either." Astrid replies cockily and I roll my eyes. Harry makes no response.

"Ugh, I really do not want to go back to the apartment." Astrid complains and I can just imagine her leaning into Harry and forcing him into an embrace-

-Who am I kidding? She's not forcing him into anything- he wants her to be here. He's quite obviously taken her out tonight, in the exact same manner he took me out just 2 days ago.

"Why don't you want to go back?" Harry questions, concern in his tone.

"Oh, just some of those girls are so awful..." Astrid trails off and my mouth falls open in shock. She's one to talk.

"Who's awful?" Harry questions further, sounding genuinely confused.

"Well, I don't like Charlotte very much." Astrid laughs and I go rigid.

"Why not?" Harry questions further, but now his tone seems a little defensive. I can't tell if that's a good or a bad thing.

"Oh, she just keeps lying and making mean comments about the other girls." Astrid lies directly through her teeth and I have to refrain from bursting out of the closet and strangling her.

"Are you sure its not just misunderstandings?" Harry counters Astrid's claim and I can't suppress the bubble of pride I feel for Harry. At least he's defending me now instead of accepting Astrid's comments whole heartedly.

"Of course I'm sure." Astrid scoffs incredulously. "She's so awful- she says she doesn't like you either." Astrid lies again. How the fuck is she able to tell blatant falsifications like this and get away with them?

"I don't think that's true..." Harry trails off. I sense doubt in his voice, but I know he won't believe Astrid- not after what happened the first time she delivered him false information about myself.

"It is- you don't like her, do you?" Astrid asks and I can perfectly visualize the snotty sneer adorning her face.

"Lets not talk about her- lets talk about you." Harry redirects the conversation and I bite my lip to stifle the sigh of disbelief about to escape me. Harry didn't want to answer the question- surely that cannot be good. How can he sit here, having invited in another woman after promising me he never would, and talk shit about me with her? Especially when he judged me for doing the exact same thing last night.

Today in the corridor Harry acted as if I'd committed a huge crime. He was blatantly rude to me based off the fact that I sat with another man. However, what he's doing now cannot compare in the slightest to my own actions. He's been lying to me from day one- of course he's invited other women to his room, how could I be so stupid as to believe that he hadn't?

Sure, me shouting at him after he saved me last night may be of a different caliber of mistake, but that is something he should have accepted an apology for. We were both stressed and drunk, my judgement was thrown off by the violence and panic, and I'd been unable to prevent an outburst- he should understand that I didn't really mean it.

I had, admittedly, been most worried about Harry's reaction to my flirtations with the other man. Judging by the jealousy Harry seems to exert, I knew that even after teaching me a lesson in the bathroom he would not be happy, no matter if his feelings seemed resolved when we arrived back at the bar. They weren't, not really, I had known that then and I thought I knew that today as I desperately apologized to him in the hall. Harry had forced me to plead and beg him to forgive me for the very same offence he's currently committing before my very eyes. I can't believe it- he's absolutely no better than I am.

"Harry... I think you should know something." Astrid starts and I wince just having to listen to her voice- it annoys me so much that I can barely stand hearing her talk.

"What is it, love?" Harry questions. I know that they sit very close to each other now. The volume of both their voices has lowered significantly.

"I think that... I'm falling in love with you." Astrid confesses and I gag. This cannot be happening. Harry makes no response, but it's not to tell Astrid to get out or to silently condemn her. Instead, I can hear their lips moving together and harsh breathing. I feel as though I've been trapped in a nightmare. What the fuck is going on?

They continue to kiss for a minute or so, before I hear their actions cease and someone rise from the bed.

"It's late now." Harry states. Another person stands.

"I'll get going. It was amazing to see you." Astrid replies cheerily and I hear them both start to walk back towards the front door. I breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that I will no longer have to endure the sound of them snogging and realize I'm going to have to emerge from this closet at some point or another.

Harry and Astrid issue each other goodbyes, and I hear the door close. I wait a few more moments and can tell that Harry is alone now. He breaths a loud sigh, seemingly exhausted, and I hear him plop down on the couch.

"Fo' fucks sakes." He mutters to himself. I can't tell why, but I don't care. I open the door of the closet, stepping through loudly to make my presence known. I don't care if Harry finds it weird that I'm in his room without his knowledge- I have other things to worry about at the moment.

I come to stand by the bed, in full view of Harry, and I see him visibly jolt with shock.

"What the fuck?!" He mumbles, bewildered, standing now and taking a step back. I cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm sorry that I'm here, alright? I came to apologize but you wouldn't answer so I just used your key, I know I didn't ask, I'm sorry." I start off, hurriedly explaining my reason for just having emerged from his closet.

"I was waiting here for you so I could apologize, but I had to fucking hide because you weren't alone." I exclaim and Harry realizes what has transpired. His eyes go wide.

"Charlotte-"

"Let me talk!" I yell, my anger finally getting the best of me. Harry shuts up immediately.

"I came here to say sorry. I'm sorry that I was a fucking asshole after you saved me from that prick- I should have thanked you, not walked away, I know that. I was drunk and scared and confused and I didn't know what to do and I'm sorry I handled it that way, I shouldn't have treated you like that and I won't ever again. What you did was brave and it was the right thing to do." I force out the speech I've been preparing. Technically, although I'm furious, I still owe Harry an apology for treating him so poorly after my rescue.

"I was going to apologize for flirting with that random guy, but I'm not fucking going to anymore." I seethe, relieved that I can now unleash my anger .

"Char-"

"Harry, how fucking dare you!" I exclaim, cutting Harry off, my voice that of pure rage. Harry, smartly, remains silent.

"I was basically on my fucking knees today outside the apartment begging you to forgive me, and you told me, to my face, you've never had another girl up to your room!" I shout. Harry winces at my tone.

"You made me feel terrible for acting that way, but you're a fucking hypocrite! How long have you been lying to me about the other women?!" I exclaim, completely dumbfounded. Why lie in the first place? There was no reason to. I provided him multiple opportunities to share the status of his relationship with the other women, but he chose not to take them. It's not like there was any reason not to tell me the truth- it's his prerogative to invite any woman he'd like up to his hotel room- he's the bachelor, he's in charge. I'm not mad about the fact that there was another woman here, well, I am, but I'm mostly mad about the fact that Harry has been lying to me for weeks.

"I haven't lied." Harry responds, calmer than me, but visibly beginning to panic.

"Harry, I felt like shit for talking to that man last night, but now you've got Astrid up here telling you she loves you! You took her out on a date just like you took me out on a date- it wasn't special to you. You don't care about me." I growl, my rage coming to fruition.

"I didn't take her out for a date! She just showed up!" Harry attempts to defend himself and I laugh.

"Don't fucking lie to me Harry!" I shout. Even when he showed up to my room unannounced all the way back in LA, I was not this angry. I'm unsure how to handle myself as I shake irately.

"I'm not- I'm not lying. She showed up with a gang of cameras- I had no choice!" Harry explains and I scoff in disbelief.

"Harry, stop lying! Please!" I shout, fed up with all the bullshit he's been apparently feeding me for weeks.

"I'm not lying! She showed up in the hallway with 8 bloody cameras and 3 producers- I had no choice but to let her in!" Harry exclaims, throwing his hands to the air in exasperation. I scoff in astonishment.

"Oh, yeah, sure. Harry, I'm not stupid- you really think I'd fall for that?!" I question viciously. I've just about lost my temper and I'm only one more stupid lie away from blowing my top.

"I swear that's what happened!" Harry continues on with his fabrication- why does he continue to try and defend himself with a story that I've already cracked? I didn't take him to be so dumb.

"Ok then, prove it." I demand, crossing my arms and arching my eyebrow in exaggerated expectance. Harry remains quiet, looking around frantically and stuttering.

"I- uh, I don't- um- I can't-"

"Just stop! I should have never come here in the first place! I should have never come on this fucking show!" I yell in an outburst of anger. I realize the small mistake I've made in admitting my harsh thoughts. My exclamation isn't entirely true, but at the moment it seems to be. Harry appears at a loss for words.

"Charlotte, I'm sorry, but you have to believe me! I've never had Astrid, or anybody else, up here by choice." Harry continues on with his false narrative. I roll my eyes and begin to walk towards his door. I don't know what I'm going to do now, but I've got to leave. I've got to get away from him

Before I can place my fingers to the handle, Harry softly grabs my arm.

"Please don't leave." He begs, his brows creased violently, a wild look in his eyes. I make no response as I pull against him, but he does not relent his grip.

"Charlotte, I forgive you, ok! I forgive you for everything you did- I don't care anymore, I'm not mad." Harry seemingly pulls an apology out of his ass. Does he really think I care at all whether or not he's still angry with me for chatting up that guy last night? At least I didn't have a man he loathes up in my very own hotel room telling me he loves me after I told him I never would.

"Harry, I don't care if you forgive me, I'm not sorry anymore." I admit angrily, yanking my arm from his grasp. Harry's expression becomes absolutely saturated with worry.

"You're right, you're right! I don't have a right to be mad anymore- but I didn't invite Astrid up here! I didn't take her out- I only ran into her 15 minutes ago!" Harry pleads with me desperately. My mouth falls in shock- shock at his blatant lies and his assumption that I could be so stupid as to believe him.

"Harry, I heard her say she really enjoyed her night, but nice try. I'm leaving." I spit viciously, turning on my heal and forcefully jerking the wooden door open. I can't believe the complete turn of events that has taken place. As I was walking up to Harry's room just 20 minutes ago imagining every possible scenario, this was definitely not one of them.

I can't stop myself from sparing one last glance in Harry's direction. I find he looks absolutely broken, standing by the door with his shoulders slumped and his expression full of sadness- at what, I don't know, but I don't care. I can hardly comprehend the fact that I almost fell for another awful, deceptive, conniving man. I really thought Harry might have been different.

I storm down the hall of the hotel, board the elevator, and stalk back to the building in which I currently stay, fighting the tears threatening to break loose for the second night in a row. This could not have gone worse.

***

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L