Once Harry and I leave the shower and dry off, I find myself faced with two options: Either I can leave Harry's room and retreat back to my own depressingly lonely accommodation, or I can stay upstairs with Harry at the risk of being caught. It takes about a second for me to choose the latter, thanks in part to Harry's incessant pleading.

I slip only my robe back on, not seeing a real need for clothes after what Harry and I just did together- I'm delighted at how good he was, although it's not much of a surprise. Judging by our other encounters, I already knew he'd be amazing.

Harry and I come to sit on his bed next to each other, each looking out through the large window adorning the wall, taking in the star-spattered night sky. There's no sexual tension now, besides the ever-present attraction I feel to Harry. Currently I only feel like spending time with him in a platonic way.

"Can I say I'm very glad you stumbled upon my room?" Harry asks and I blush.

"No, you're not allowed to say anything about it." I tease Harry, shooting a playful grin at him as my tongue sticks between my teeth. Harry shrugs, his lip drooping comically.

"Just sayin'- it's nice that you learnt to pick locks." He tells me and I giggle again, swatting him in the arm.

"Especially don't talk about that!" I exclaim, "I learnt a long time ago, haven't done it in a while." I pretend to joke around, but my words are truthful. I needed it for all sorts of excursions while employed at my old job- two bobby pins became more useful than my phone for a while.

"Alright, alright, I won't ask any more questions..." Harry trails off, a grin taking over his face as he looks away from me to the window. I watch him thoughtfully and for once I don't care if he catches me. I want to observe his effortless beauty and I'll be damned if anything is going to stop me.

"You have a lovely voice." I blurt as the memory comes to mind of when I first heard Harry singing as I approached his room. For a split second I thought it was an actual song playing- not a raw, untouched voice. I was wrong. Harry blushes and clasps both hands together nervously.

"Thank you very much." He acknowledges my compliment, but doesn't make eye contact with me. I wonder how Harry can be so embarrassed of having a talent so heavenly, but I decide it might be best not to push it. Every time I mention music to him he seems to clam up. So, instead, I change the subject-

"What's your middle name?" I divulge and at this Harry whips his head around to look at me, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Edward, if you must know." A half smile adorns his lips. I grin widely and nod with understanding. I recall one of the women reciting this fact on the first night of the show during the limousine ride to the mansion- I'd forgotten since then, but now my memory is sparked.

"What's yours then?"

"Elisabeth." I state frankly. Harry frowns at my sudden stiffness.

"What's the matter?" He questions.

"Nothing- just, nobody knows my middle name- besides my family." I admit. Harry's eyebrow quirks with surprise but he doesn't say much else.

"Just a middle name." He reasons and I nod. He's right- it's no big deal- but I've become accustomed to keeping as much of myself concealed as possible.

"Yeah, I know. I guess I'm just a private person." I tell him, putting on a mock-mysterious face in an attempt to lighten the mood. I succeed and Harry laughs.

"Isn't that what I told you before!? I said you were mysterious and you didn't believe me!" Harry exclaims and I shake my head in disapproval.

"I don't remember that." I lie- of course I remember it. We were sitting in his hotel room- the first time we saw each other against the rules. He was making judgements of my character and executed a spot-on assessment. That was the first time I ever realized he may be smarter than he appears.

Harry makes no response, instead only nudging my shoulder jokingly. I feign agony and fall back onto the bed dramatically. Harry chuckles, and a second later I feel him plopping down next to me.

"Mysterious, am I?" I acknowledge Harry's comment. I can't see his expression but I know he's smiling- the cute half smile that makes his dimples pop and his teeth shine.

"Yes, quite." He answers. I like that he's able to make a correct judgement, but I also don't feel as though I have to be closed off around Harry anymore. I trust him- or at least I trust him more than I ever have before- and think that maybe he has earned a bit of honesty.

"Shoot, then. Ask me any question you like." I state, although I know I won't be able to answer them all truthfully. If Harry were to start prodding me about my past employment, or even my reason for knowing how to pick locks, I would have to lie. I can answer menial questions, though. Harry seems to assume this, too, because the first question he asks is:

"What's your favourite colour?"

I laugh loudly, the question so different from what I was expecting.

"Purple, what's yours?"

"Orange- or blue. Can't decide." Harry admits. I frown in disgust.

"Orange?! What's wrong with you?" I joke. Who on earth could have orange as their favourite colour?

"Who said you get to decide which colours are best and which aren't." Harry teases me, attempting to sound hurt, failing as he lets a giggle slip past his lips.

"Me." I retort and Harry snorts with humour.

"Hey! Don't change the subject. I get to ask you more questions."

"Go on." I urge Harry to continue. If all his questions are going to be trivial like the last one then I may not regret my decision to allow him access into my life after all.

"Alright... What's your favourite movie?" Harry asks. I don't laugh this time and take a couple seconds to decide.

"Hmm... maybe Pride and Prejudice? Or Bridget Jones's Diary- I'm a sucker for Colin Firth." I admit, chuckling. Harry joins me and places his hand on my thigh. The action is not sexual at all. I realize it's just to connect our skin in some way- I feel calmer when I'm touching Harry.

"Yours?"

"The Notebook." Harry admits bashfully and I can't help but look over at him in surprise.

"The Notebook!?" I question his answer twice in a row. Harry's cheeks flush and a shy smile adorns his face.

"Don't judge me!" He exclaims.

"I'm not judging you! I'm just... surprised." I tell him truthfully. He huffs with skepticism.

"It's just hard to imagine big, tough Harry, who beat up some random guy outside a French nightclub, tearing up at Ryan Gosling." I explain myself and Harry bursts out laughing. I examine him and see joyous tears welling in his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough now, woman." He shrugs me off as his laughter comes to a halt. I stop talking and wait for his next question.

"Favourite TV show?"

"Outlander."

"What's that?" Harry asks, genuinely confused.

"It's about time travelling, 18th century, handsome Scottish men." I give Harry a brief synopsis.

"Ah, I can see the... appeal." He trails off sarcastically. I swat at him but don't indulge him further.

"Yours?"

"Family Guy." He concedes. I frown, the show seemingly an odd choice for someone as respectful as Harry, but I don't tease him as I did with his last two answers.

This game of ours continues, Harry asking me too many questions to count- where I was born, my favourite books, all of my extended family's names, if I play instruments, where I live, when I graduated high school, my job right now- he never seems to run out. However, as we approach the subject of my job, the conversation turns a little more serious.

"So you don't like where you work?" Harry prods on, and for the first time I begin to feel a little uncomfortable. We are approaching dangerous territory here- one slip up and Harry may become aware of my real life back in New York. If he knew how broke I am there's no doubt he would start to wonder if I had applied to this show just for the money. He wouldn't be wrong, and it would be too late to explain to him that since meeting him I've forgotten all about the financial benefits of the show.

"Well, not exactly. It's not the most glamorous restaurant you've ever seen, but it pays the bills." I lie, attempting to casually dismiss the subject.

"How come you moved away from your parents when you were so young? You've been on your own ever since you graduated high school, right?" Harry asks and I gulp. I can't think of a lie to cover myself on the spot. I realize I may have to tell him about my family after all.

"It's not so easy." Is all I can muster. Harry waits a moment before responding, as though considering carefully how to proceed. I'm sure he can tell that this is a delicate subject.

"How come?" He finally decides on a response. I intake a sharp breath, mentally preparing myself for revealing to Harry something I have never discussed with another person before- my family. It pains me to think about, so I rarely do. It appears I don't have a choice now, though. I trust Harry- I want him to trust me. Maybe, just maybe, I need to tell him the truth this time.

"Well... remember when I told you about my family before?" I ask, wincing at the memory. That entire encounter was so forced and awkward- on account of me hating Harry at the time- but to my surprise Harry replies instantly.

"Yes."

"I didn't exactly tell you the truth." I admit. I refuse to look at Harry, but I can feel his stare boring into me from my side. He doesn't react, allowing me to time to gather myself and put words together before speaking.

"My dad did die when I was young, but afterwards things were not so... great." I can't think of a better way to put it. I know Harry will not be satisfied with this answer, though, so I compose myself and continue to talk.

"When he left, he took his source of income with him... I moved back to Canada for my final year of school but we didn't have any money and my mum sort of just... gave up." I hesitate, carefully choosing each word as though it may hurt me if I let it out too fast. Harry stays silent, and I know this means he wants me to continue. I cringe as I open my mouth once more, but I want to do this for Harry- he deserves this after all the lies I've told him.

"It was hard to make ends meet- you know, all that crap. My mum mostly sat at home and drank while I worked a couple jobs to take care of my younger sister..." I tell Harry. I do not tell him the specific profession I started to explore at that time and keep it vague instead.

"But then, you know, drugs, and random 'boyfriends' started coming to the house and it was basically just my sister and I. At the end of 12th grade she still had 3 years to go, though. I knew I needed to get away from my mum, but I couldn't just leave my sister with her."

"Then one day we came home and my mum's boyfriend was drunk and he got a little too handsy- I told him to back off and he got angry- you can imagine what happened next." I explain, not wishing to describe that fateful day any further. Harry's grip on my thigh tightens and I urge myself to take deep, calming breaths. I'll be damned if I cry right now and do my best to contain the sorrow I feel. I hate reliving these memories, especially with somebody else present.

"So, I took my sister to my aunts house and caught the first train to New York the next day." I finish. We both stay quiet for a long time after that, until Harry finally breaks the silence with a soft voice.

"I'm sorry."

"That's okay, it was a long time ago." I lie. It really wasn't too long ago, but I've managed to suppress my feelings regarding that entire year of hell. Harry doesn't push me further and I'm grateful. There's many other woeful parts of my past I could discuss with him, but I'm not up to it right now and I'm sure he can sense that. Instead, Harry reaches his arm out and wraps it around my shoulders before pulling me in close to his chest. I breath softly against his collar bone and my leg wraps gently around his own. I feel Harry's faint heartbeat against my fingertips and let the steady rhythm calm me.

"What's your family like?" I ask. Harry stiffens at this question, but from what I've heard already I know his was nothing like mine. If he's uncomfortable, it's because he doesn't want to make me more upset by rubbing in my face how perfect his own family is.

"Standard. Mum and dad divorced, mum remarried, got one sister." Harry states acutely. I can't help but chuckle.

"Thanks for the stats, but that's not what I was asking." I tease him, and I feel Harry's lips curve into a grin above me.

"They're all very lovely and supportive. Helped me with the whole music thing." Harry admits, and I'm surprised to hear him mention his own band for the first time.

"Oh, yeah, 'the music thing'-" I decide Harry owes me some revelations of his own, "-What exactly is that?" I ask.

"Well, I'm in a band. We have a couple albums and we play shows sometimes." Harry tells me casually, remaining as ambiguous as possible. I roll my eyes.

"I don't understand why you get so shy when you talk about it. Isn't it something to be proud of?" I inquire. Harry chuckles quietly against me.

"I guess so- I just don't like discussing it. I don't want to end up bragging by mistake." He tells me. I frown.

"It wouldn't kill you to be proud once in a while- the world won't end."

"People would judge me." Harry states.

"I won't judge you." I declare quietly. Harry inhales deeply before responding.

"Fine. I guess we're fairly decent." He remarks. I can't help but giggle again.

"My god, Harry Styles, whenever did you become so fucking full of yourself?" I sarcastically demand, tilting my head up and taking an opportunity to make eye contact. An amused expression covers Harry's face, but before I can go on he's blocked my mouth with his hand.

"No more out of you." He declares and I protest by biting at the skin of his palm. He pulls away with a yelp and we both laugh loudly.

The night continues this way- Harry and I talking as we never have before. I learn almost everything there is to know about him and I'm surprised at how open I allow myself to be, especially without any alcohol.

We lay wrapped around each other for 4 long hours. After a long pause I begin to speak to Harry again, but find I'm interrupted by a light snore. He's fallen asleep.

A small smile breaks across my face as I listen to the deep breaths Harry takes as he sleeps, but I realize that I can't stay with him like this for the entire night- I've got to go before the other women wake up.

Kiana is in our room asleep right now. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen when she wakes up and I'm absent, nowhere to be found.

So, with a lengthy but quiet sigh, I delicately remove Harry's arm from around my waist and lay it on his own chest instead. Inch by inch, I worm my way out of his embrace and stand from the bed. I turn for a little while and observe Harry, before bending down and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. The gesture is sickeningly sweet, but I find that this time I don't feel nauseous as I execute it.

Slowly, I tip toe through the room, collect my clothes, and switch off the dim lamp emanating light from the corner of the room. I pick a blanket up from the floor, lay it over Harry gently, then make for the door. As quietly as possible I let it creak open, then slip out. I decide it would be better to switch off the lightbulb outside the door that initially drew me up here- I don't need any other women getting the same idea. Especially not now with the 'closet' door unlocked.

It makes me physically hurt to think about Harry sharing the same kind of night with another woman. It makes me sick to even think about Harry touching another woman. I don't know how I'm going to survive the rest of this show when I'll have to watch Harry kiss random women all the time.

I try to push the unfavourable thought out of my mind as I silently slip into Kiana and I's bedroom. Thankfully, I don't wake her and I'm able to slide into bed without disturbing a soul. The only person who I've interrupted tonight is Harry and I'm sure he didn't mind one bit.

I squint at the clock on the wall, finding I can just make out the time due to the small slivers of light starting to peak in from under the curtains. It's nearly 5 in the morning. I have no idea how Harry will survive a date today- I definitely couldn't.

My eyes fall shut in a second and soon I'm drifting off to sleep, images of Harry clouding my mind.

***

Harry and I spend two days apart. Two full, agonizing, long days apart. My mind is going crazy thinking of all the things he's doing without me, and all the time I'm spending without him. I've never felt this need before- this ever-present yearning for another person. It's completely uncharted territory for me, but at a contrast to how I might have felt a month ago, I kind of like it. I like feeling special. I like having something, or someone, to consume my thoughts while I'm bored. Because, somehow, I'm never bored if I'm thinking about Harry.

The producers decided to cancel the second part of my group date on account of 'logistical issues', so to pass the time I instead recall the last night Harry and I spent in each other's company. My first time truly allowing Harry to see my real self, the first time we talked about important things, the first time we've really forgiven each other, and of course our first time in the shower. I can't get him out of my head. I'm sure there are many other useful, productive things I could be dwelling on, but I don't care about any of them. Only Harry.

That's why after 2 painstaking, torturous days, when I hear the front door click open from downstairs and the women erupt into a frenzy, I waste no time jumping out of bed and sprinting down the hall.

I wear black baggy sweatpants and a tight black tank top to match. My feet are bare and my hair has been hurriedly combed through. Besides the remnants of yesterday's concealer, I have no makeup on, but I don't care and neither will Harry.

I go as fast as I can down the stairs without tripping and sure enough Harry stands in the exact middle of the living room, chatting amicably with 3 girls surrounding him. I survey the room and quickly become aware of all 8 cameras, circling, looking for prey, their next victim. I realize I should slow down to avoid attention and force myself to approach Harry at a casual, normal pace. It's hard.

As I slowly grow near, more and more girls swarm and I'm left on the outskirts of the mob. Huffing with frustration, I decide it may be best to let Harry come to me. I know he will. The last time he saw me he was falling asleep with my head on his chest and my legs around his own. He did not feel me get up or leave and I'm not sure how he felt when he woke up to find me missing. I'm sure he wasn't particularly happy, but what other choice did I have? I'll make up the time now.

I take a languid seat upon the large sofa in the living room and watch Harry intently. He chats with Amber, who reaches out to touch his shoulder as she laughs. I cringe at the intimate action, but can't bring myself to look away.

Today, Harry looks particularly well. I know he hasn't had a date since yesterday afternoon and I sincerely hope that he's recovered from our sleepless night. His skin seems to glow and his hair looks light and fluffy- he must have just washed it.

I linger idly by as Harry makes his way across the living room. I realize he hasn't seen me yet, but I can't wait any longer. I turn to Tanya on my left and make some quick quip. She laughs, and I join her very loudly.

The sound of my overwhelming laughter draws half the room's attention, including Harry's. As soon as he's spotted me he's excusing himself from his conversation with Amber and beelining for me on the couch.

I grin to myself with satisfaction and Harry plops himself down next to me on the couch, throwing his arm over my shoulder without hesitation. The public display of affection should make me uncomfortable, it usually does, but right now I couldn't care less. Even with all the girls and the producers and the cameras watching- nothing could spoil this moment.

"Well, hello, you." Harry smirks and I can't help from blushing.

"Hello, handsome." I reply. It's Harry's turn to blush.

"What have you been up to?" He asks, and I can see interest alight in his eyes. He seems to really, truly care about the common activities of my past two days. I'm surprised to realize that I feel the exact same. Harry could tell me about the nutritional content of beets and I would hang off his every word.

As I'm about to respond, taking care not to let my initial answer slip out (thinking about you, of course), I see someone approaching from the corner of my eye. Instead of another woman coming to interrupt, I see a producer. Not just any producer- Luke.

"Sorry, man, we need you over here for a couple seconds to recalibrate your mic." Luke says, flashing me an apologetic smile before tugging on Harry's t-shirt. Harry very visibly rolls his eyes in annoyance and squeezes my hand before getting up and following Luke to another area of the living room.

I sit, a little flustered, but content. I'm happy at the fact that I've seen Harry up close and personal. These past days of separation and torment almost drove me to insanity. I watch him closely from across the room and see him still talking with Luke.

However, I notice their conversation looks far from amicable. In fact, I can see the tell-tale signs of anger starting to invade Harry's face. His brows crease in frustration and he's starting to speak faster- at least from what I can tell across the room. Luke doesn't look too happy either, but soon I see Harry let out a large sigh and reluctantly nod his head. Luke looks satisfied and departs without so much as a touch to Harry's mic. What the hell is going on?

Harry does not come back and resume his position beside me. Instead, he trudges sadly over to the kitchen and enters without a look back. I start to doubt myself...

Have I done something wrong? Surely not. Harry looked so eager to talk to me just 2 minutes ago. No, it's something that Luke's told him. But what could possibly force Harry away from me and into the kitchen? I decide it's worth it to venture out of the living room and investigate.

I slowly creep across the floor, avoiding conversation with the other women, and peek through the door of the kitchen. I see Harry sitting on a bar stool adjacent to the island, and next to him I see Astrid. Of all people, Astrid now occupies Harry's attentions. In fact, Harry abandoned me to speak with Astrid. I would have been furious only a week ago, but I have enough perspective now to realize that this action may not be completely up to Harry. In fact, after watching him speak to Luke in such an aggressive manner, I highly doubt that Harry has had any control over his actions.

I know there's no use in interrupting- I'm too scared that Astrid will end up revealing details about my past to Harry that I would rather she not. I'm on thin ice. I've managed to push the issue out of my mind for the past week- I've been too consumed by Harry- but I've always felt it in the back of my mind. The nagging, horrible feeling that I'll be exposed. The worst part is that I don't know when, or if it even will come, but that won't stop me from treading lightly. There's no point in risking my relationship with Harry if there's a way to prevent it deteriorating.

So, with a shaky breath, I step away from the entrance to the kitchen and retreat back to my original spot in the living room. I don't look away from the kitchen door for a long time, and watch as several other girls enter and exit. I wish I had the freedom to do so, but I can't anger Astrid. At least not until I figure out what exactly she knows- about me, my past, my present.

45 minutes pass without any signs of Harry and I start to lose hope. The producers rarely allow Harry to stay at the house during a surprise visit for more than an hour. I fear that if he does not emerge from his spot in the kitchen soon, I won't have any time to talk to him. There's a whole other day until the rose ceremony. I'm not sure if I can last that long.

With 10 minutes until an hours up, I see Harry finally exit the kitchen. He's back in the living room and his eyes immediately lock with mine. I can't help the flutter of butterflies in my stomach as he starts to approach, but before he reaches me I feel a gentle tap on my shoulder.

"Charlotte? We need an interview ASAP. Would you follow me?" Luke interrupts from behind me and I'm forced to look away from Harry.

"Right now?" I try to bargain for some more time, but once again Luke shoots me an apologetic look.

"Sorry, it's urgent." He presses. With one last longing look towards Harry, only 10 feet away now, I get up and sadly follow Luke out of the room. I know when I return Harry will be long gone.

***

The next day I wake late, my mood soured by the events of yesterday. Harry was gone, as predicted, once I returned from my interview. I went to bed early, depressed at the fact I had no time with him, and annoyed by the fact that it seemed to be Astrid's doing.

Now I rise early and find that for once I'm up before Kiana. She stills rests, soundly asleep in her twin bed next to mine. I can't help but take in the sunrise emerging over the lush mountain just outside the window and decide that I might make myself breakfast. I doubt many other girls will be awake and I would appreciate real time to cook again. I haven't had many opportunities to bust out the skills my current profession requires- I guess I should get in some practice.

I pull on longer pants and a sweater to keep myself warm in the brisk morning air that's managed to seep inside the house. I pull on a fluffy pair of socks to protect my feet and venture downstairs. I don't hear much, so I decide it's safe to enter the kitchen. To my dismay, it's not empty. Christie and Astrid, of all people, reside at the island in the middle of the room.

I think about turning away and heading back up to my room, but my rumbling stomach holds me in place. They're just girls, not sharks. I can survive long enough to make some eggs.

As I enter, Christie shoots me a warm smile while Astrid pays me absolutely no attention. I don't mind and follow suit, affording only Christie a greeting. As they begin to chat I keep silent and pull all the necessary ingredients out of the fridge. At a stark contrast to the produce I'm able to buy at home, everything looks fresh and expensive as I chop it up. I guess I better savour the luxury while i have it.

20 minutes pass without a hiccup, but as I'm sliding my eggs out of the pan onto a plate, Christie announces her departure and leaves Astrid and I alone together. I figure I'll continue my vow of silence, but without Christie as a buffer it becomes awkward quickly.

"Big omelette, huh?" Astrid suddenly calls from across the kitchen. My head whips around in surprise and my brows furrow as I try to decode her comment. What's that supposed to mean?

"I guess..." I answer, trying to remain polite. I see Astrid's eyebrows raise by the slightest and then she's observing me critically.

"I guess you should eat while you can, right?" She asks. I freeze, nearly dropping my plate. What the hell is that supposed to mean? My muscles lock and I know she could only be alluding to one thing.

"I don't know what you mean." I try to play dumb, but both her and I know that I understand exactly what she's trying to say.

"Well, I'm sure it's hard to manage a meal like that all the time." Astrid drawls sarcastically and I can't believe she's being so straightforward with her accusations. However, that's not what I care about. What I care about is that she definitely knows about my current financial situation. What she knows about my past I'm still unsure, so I proceed hesitantly.

"Not really." I state, shrugging as I pull a fork and knife out of the cutlery drawer. I find I want to stay and go at the same time. I can't take anymore of this ridicule, but I have to know what she knows.

"I guess you're right... you'd do anything to earn a meal, right?" Astrid leers from the island, and now I know I'm fucked. I make no response and attempt to walk calmly out of the kitchen, not affording her any sort of confirmation. I knew if I tried to deny her she'd pick up on the fear in my voice.

She has to know. That's the only possible reason for her saying these things to me. She knows about my past, she knows about my old profession, and she certainly knows about my current situation. This was her way of letting me know- of confirming my burning suspicion. She knows all about me, and from the sound of it, she isn't afraid to let others in on my little secret.

I feel sick as I quickly evacuate the kitchen and head upstairs, electing to eat my breakfast in the view room rather than risk running into Astrid in the living room.

What could she possibly want from me? And what does she have against me-

-No, that's a stupid question. Of course I know why she hates me. Harry devotes his time off camera to me, not her. She wants him, and he doesn't want her. At least I don't think he does. It would be enough to infuriate anyone, but I didn't think Astrid would threaten to effectively ruin my entire life by blabbing.

I curse Luke- I knew he snitched- and I can't help but feel an irk of irritation towards Harry. If he had never stricken up his little deal with Luke there would be no way for Astrid to pry information and fuck me over

What am I supposed to do? Astrid was talking to Harry for an awfully long time yesterday. Could she have told him about me? I know in Paris he was already beginning to become suspicious, but after all the recent events he might have forgotten his doubt. However, it's not been long enough. If Astrid were to bring something up that he was already considering, I don't doubt he'd regard it as truth.

Well, it is the truth, technically. But Harry doesn't need to know that. But I guess I have no choice in the matter now...

What if he does know?

I try to reason with myself. If he knew he would not have started to walk towards me after exiting the kitchen yesterday. But if he does find out sometime in the near future, I fear our relationship will be damned for good. Not only will I be kicked off the show, or shunned by the other girls and the rest of America, but I'm sure Harry will not like the idea of sharing his life with someone like me.

I finish eating, staring blankly into space, my mind racing while my body goes numb. What the hell am I going to do?

***

Hope you all enjoy- let me know what you think!

L