Double update 'cause why not :)

Don't forget to comment and let me know what you think!!

***

My legs want to give out from under me. Astrid. That's what he said. Astrid is continuing on.

My vision goes hazy and my ears ring with shock. I don't hear the rest of the proceedings around me. Whether Harry knows it or not, he may have just doomed our relationship, if one even still exists. For now, it seems as if Harry is still clueless about my dark past. With Astrid sticking around, though, it can't be long now until he finds out.

We all assemble around Harry while the other women shuffle out tearfully. I pay attention to none of this and stand in my allotted place, my head turned down to the ground in dismay. How many more weeks of suffering like this can I take? This horrible, heart-wrenching, uncertain anxiety that accompanies all the waiting- waiting until Astrid finally decides to ruin my life.

Harry says words I do not comprehend nor attempt to. I don't care what he's saying right now. 10 more minutes pass and our mics are removed. I shuffle into a big black van without another word, not even to Harry. On the ride back to the mansion I realize I forgot to say goodbye to Kiana. This, for some reason, makes me sad.

This stupid fucking man I seem to care so much for has turned me softer than I ever thought I could be.

***

I wake to the sound of an alarm threateningly close to my ear. The annoying beeping ceases once I slam my hand instinctively down upon the phone that emits the noise. The phone right next to me- the phone I haven't had for 2 months.

As I come to I glance around slowly. Above me are little stick on glow-in-the-dark stars, pasted with care nearly a year ago. I turn on my side to examine the time and nearly fall out of my twin bed. I'm not used to sleeping somewhere so small.

Next to my small, chipped nightstand stands a tall lamp, the bulb, although dimmed and flickering, seems to have remained on through the night- I must have fallen asleep without turning it off. Makes sense- it was with great difficult sleep finally came to me last night at 3 in the morning. I'm just too damn nervous.

I groggily sit up and rub tiredness from my eyes. My feet hit the creaky wood of the aged floors, a sound I'm used to even though I've been absent for the better part of 2 months.

I stand and look around my room. A medium sized dresser stands against the far wall, beneath the sole window illuminating my bedroom. It stands crooked, so that I can never rest anything valuable atop it. I assumed the previous owner had taken the liberty of sawing off an inch from just 2 of the wooden legs, not all 4. At least I got it for half price.

Standing in just a tank top and underwear now, I pull out the single robe I own from my dresser and wrap it around myself. It's getting to be a little colder in New York as September starts to roll around, but I won't turn on my heat until absolutely necessary.

I venture out of the small space through a rickety door. It creaks open loudly and I step through into my living room. A small, worn couch and a love-seat made of tired leather occupy a single corner of the living room. A smallish TV rests on a stand against the back wall which these two sofas face, separated by a tiny IKEA coffee table.

I head to the kitchen. The appliances are old and you can see various stains from previous use, but they work perfectly fine, and that's all I care about. There's a little fridge, a small stove, a sink, and a coffee machine. I even splurged and bought myself a toaster oven a few months ago so I could make cookies from time to time. A few fake wood cupboards reside above the stove and the sink where I keep my dishes.

To my right, directly next to the front door, is the entrance to the small, but clean, bathroom. There was a little extra space left over between the kitchen and the living room once I finished 'decorating', which is now where my mini dining table and two chairs reside.

Although it's definitely small and the creaky floors signify age, I've done everything in my power to keep my apartment from looking like a dump. A few weeks after moving in, after being employed at my former job for a while, I found I had enough money to put new wallpaper over the walls and retile the bathroom. It actually cost less than I thought it would, I'm sure on account of there not being much surface area to cover.

After that, with my bank account still satiated, I'd had enough money to pick up blankets, pillows and modest paintings to decorate the walls and furniture with, creating what I thought was a homey atmosphere. I liked to think to myself that if this place was a little bigger, and maybe in a nicer location, it would be thought of as 'rustic' instead of 'shabby'. Then again, I have lived here for years. I may just be used to the subpar conditions by now. Who knows what Harry will think.

Oh, god. Harry. I'd managed to keep him off my mind for more than a minute, but I see I've failed again. I got absolutely no sleep last night because today is the day Harry visits New York for our 'hometown date'.

For the week that I've been back here, I've been feeling a whole mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm glad to be away from the constantly prying eyes of the producers, cameras, and other women. On the other hand, I've been away from Harry for an entire week, and I'm not enjoying it one bit.

Even though I don't have to face Astrid everyday, the chance of her blurting out the truth to Harry still haunts my thoughts almost every minute of every day- whether I'm asleep or awake. It seems there's no escape from the worry-fuel hell I've been trapped in since the day Astrid admitted she knew about me.

I try to flush the thoughts from my mind and head to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. It's 7 right now. I'm supposed to meet Harry at central park by 9. I consider catching a cab so my hair won't get messed up, but there's no need to waste $10. I'll walk. It's only a mile or two.

Once my coffee is poured and a little bit of sugar has been added I take a seat at my dining table. A small vase filled with plastic flowers sits in the exact middle on top of a crotched place mat. I like the little details I can add to make this place feel at least a little more like home.

As I rub my legs together to conserve heat I hear my phone start to ring from the other room. I rise quickly and answer it. I know who's calling before I even see their name flash at the top of the screen. It's Olivia, my sister.

'Charlotte?' I hear as I answer the ringing phone.

'Hi, Olivia.' I sigh awkwardly. We barely used to talk before I came on this stupid show. However, upon notifying the producers that my parents basically don't exist, they insisted that Harry needed to meet at least one family member. The only person I could think to ask was Olivia. She still lives with my Aunt up in Canada, but Toronto is close enough to New York. She's nearly 20 now, and after forcing the producers to pay for her trip to New York, she agreed to come. I hadn't even told her I was going on The Bachelor before I left for LA.

'I'm going to be at your place around 5. I just wanted to remind you.' She tells me and I nod along as she notifies me for the 20th time. She must be nervous, too.

'Yep, I know, do you have the address?' I question, although I've already confirmed she does a million times.

'Yep, I've got it.' She tells me. I hate how we talk in such a cold manner. After I left Canada all those years ago I really didn't want to look back on my past. Knowing my sister was safe with my aunt, there really was no need for me to go back or ever reconnect. I think she resented me for that, and I understand why.

Now 3 years later she's received a call from her older, estranged sister asking her to fly down to New York to meet some man she met while filming a reality TV show. Surprisingly, and luckily for me, Olivia agreed. I doubt the producers would have even let Harry see me if I didn't have a family member for him to meet, so I owe a lot to my sister.

She won't be arriving to my place until after Harry is already here, though. I won't have any time to update her off camera about how much I actually like Harry, or how much time we've actually spent together. The relationship is not as artificial as the show makes it seem.

I can't worry about that, now, though. I'm just hoping for the best. So with a few parting words I've hung up on Olivia and I'm focused on the day ahead of me.

I finish my coffee and slip into the shower. After washing myself, drying my hair, doing my makeup, and picking an outfit, it's time to leave my apartment.

I grab a bag filled with my keys, my phone, my thin wallet and head for the door. I lock it behind me, and set out down the treacherous street which houses my apartment. I've never liked walking in this area of the city, but after a few months I got used to it, and now I'm desensitized to the sketchy figures and untrustworthy shadows which adorn the alleys on my way.

I finally reach Central Park and spot the producers a couple meters away. It's not hard to miss all the cameras and equipment and people with earpieces assembled in a group. I walk up to them and they flash me half-genuine smiles. They care more about wiring my mic under my clothes and fixing my predictably wind-blown hair.

Finally, after half an hour of preparation, they decide it's time to start filming. I look around as they push me out away from them, and soon i see Harry walking down the path towards me. For some reason, my excitement overtakes me and I rush towards Harry even before he's seen me.

I know the last time I saw him I was sobbing onto his shoulder, but I'm hoping he's forgotten about that. I don't have any of the other women to worry about. At least not right now. The fact that he showed up to New York and he's ready to film a date with me today means he doesn't know yet. That's a good thing. Since I've had to wait the entire week for my date, I know he already saw the other 3 women. They haven't snitched on me yet.

Just before I reach Harry he spots me and a large smile takes over his face. He more than happily engulfs me in his outstretched arms and picks me up off the ground, spinning us in a quick circle. I'm ecstatic. The nerves I've been feeling all week leading up to this date are temporarily silenced as I take in Harry's joyous expression.

'It's so good to see you.' Harry exclaims. Although he sets me down, he does not appear to want to let me go. I remain wrapped in his arms, perfectly content in my position. I'm sure the people around us must want to gag at the affection we're displaying. I would have gagged along with those people, too, a couple months ago.

'Good to see you, too, handsome.' I can't stop myself from complementing Harry. Maybe it's the fact that I haven't seen him in a week, or maybe it's the fact that he put in extra effort to his appearance, but today he looks especially beautiful. His hair looks freshly washed, soft, fluffy curls adorning the top of his head and falling to cover part of his face. He wears, to my surprise, something I've not seen him in before. Normally, black jeans and a white shirt are his go to outfit. Today he wears a black, silk button up with a little white 'styles' embroidered on the chest. It's new, and I like it.

He looks taken aback by my endearment, and I successfully manage to make him blush.

'So what are we doing today?' He asks. I remember that I'm in charge of the date. Usually Harry, or more accurately, the producers, control our activities. This time I'm allowed full reign over the plan for the day.

'Well, I thought we might hang around here for a bit.' I tell Harry, gesturing the park surrounding us. His eyes light with amusement as he nods along. 'Then we're going to my favourite restaurant and then we're doing something a little more Canadian.' I tell him. I'd much rather just admit that I've got us tickets to a Rangers game, but the producers gave me a couple lines to use in place of something I might actually say.

Harry raises his eyebrows in expectation but does not question me further. So, without another word I grab his hand and set off in the direction of the pond. I always loved visiting when I was a child with my family, and get a feeling I'll enjoy visiting with Harry, too. To be fair, I'd enjoy doing just about anything with Harry.

As we walk Harry stops us to point out oddities here and there- after all, New York is definitely not a boring place to live. We hold hands and make our way across the populated pathways and through the large trees until we reach our destination.

'How was your week, then?' Harry finally inquires. For some reason when he asks this I hear his voice hitch with a little concern. I wonder if he is trying to gain a little more information about my breakdown the other night. If something was seriously wrong the night of the rose ceremony, the rest of my week would have been shitty, too, right? It definitely was, that's for certain. But I won't admit that on camera.

'It was great. It's nice sleeping in my own bed again even though the mansion was so lovely.' I make small talk with Harry, a little paranoid of the cameras. For some reason I feel even more out of place than usual. The camera men following us around has definitely attracted a lot of attention from passersby, something that makes me uncomfortable.

'Really? That's good.' Harry answers, but from the tone of his voice I can tell he knows I'm lying. To be fair, I lie about 75% of the time I'm with Harry. He should be good at picking up on it by now. However, even if he has come to this conclusion, he doesn't push any further.

'How was your week?' I ask, the question a lot more meaningful than small talk. I desperately wish he would tell me that he hated it and he'd sent all the other women home. A lot of my problems would be solved that way. Unfortunately, that answer does not come. Instead, Harry replies complacently.

'It was alright. I've been to a lot of different places. I missed you a lot, though.' Harry tells me honestly. I'm surprised that he had the balls to make such a comment on camera, but I appreciate it nonetheless. I squeeze his hand briefly with mine.

'Good, I'm glad to hear it.' I tease him.

We stroll up to the edge of part of the pond and a producer comes up from behind me to hand me something- a loaf of bread. I see ducks paddling around in the water below us and shrug my shoulders innocently to Harry.

'What do you think?' I ask him, holding up the bread for him to see. My favourite activity when I was younger was throwing little pieces of bread into lakes for ducks to snap up and eat. For some reason now when I do it, it's comforting. Almost nostalgic. Doing it with Harry should increase the value of the experience by tenfold.

Harry snorts out a little laugh, attempting to maintain his composure.

'Something funny?' I tease, poking him in the chest with the loaf of bread, prompting more giggles.

'Not at all, lets feed the ducks!' Harry cries triumphantly, swiping the bread from me and tearing off a chunk. I fall back in laughter as he beckons for a duck to come near and enthusiastically holds out the food for it.

We continue on like this, eventually taking a seat on the edge of the bank. I take the opportunity to lean my head against Harry's shoulder and observe the animals before us, honking and quacking without a care in the world. In fact, as we remain like this I find I feel absolutely calm. The worries which have been occupying my mind this entire week have melted away. Spending time with Harry, I'm reminded of his character. His sweet, loving, accepting, generous character. He puts my mind to rest. Just being with Harry is reassuring. This past hour has reminded me of why I've come to like him so much in the first place.

'Here, turn around.' I rise from my position against Harry and turn to face him, still sitting. He looks confused, but sits cross legged a couple feet away from me. I rip off another piece of bread and hold it in my hand, aiming.

'Open your mouth.' I command. Harry raises his brow with amusement but does as I tell him. I wait a second, calculate the distance, and then throw a piece directly into Harry's mouth. I cheer, happy with my achievement, and Harry chuckles.

'Am I a duck now?' He asks. I giggle and scoot back in closer to him.

'Maybe if you replace the 'u' with an 'i'.' I poke fun, looking up at him with my tongue between my teeth. It takes him half a second to understand, and then he's pushing me away playfully.

'Heeeey! That's not nice!' He jokes. I shrug as if I have no control over the fact and we both fall back laughing.

Once the loaf has been finished I pull Harry up.

'Alright, favourite restaurant.' I tell him matter of factly. He nods along and follows me obediently. We set off away from the pond and emerge from Central Park. It takes another 20 minutes to come upon the small subway shop tucked onto a busy street corner.

We enter hand in hand and I order for Harry. I like having authority and control over what we do for once. We take a seat at the small plastic table sandwiched into the tiny shop, and I look to Harry briefly, searching his expression. To my relief, he doesn't look annoyed or disappointed or disgusted at all. In fact, he looks perfectly content to sit in this small subway shop and talk to me, our hands still connected across the table.

'Why's it your favourite?' He questions, prompting me to look around the very shop he's referring to.

'Well, for starters, the sandwiches are delicious.' I tell Harry.

'Good to know.' He acknowledges.

'Also it's really close to my place.' I tell him. When I'm hungry in the middle of the night it's not usually wise to venture too far from my apartment- I stay within the vicinity to avoid any unnecessary danger. I don't tell Harry this. I'm sure he'll realize my area isn't the safest soon enough. At this thought another spark of fear pierces my cool composure. What if he hates my place? What if he's disgusted by my old, tiny apartment squished onto its gross, weird street. I push the thought from my mind.

'Well that's always good.' Harry observes. Another minute passes and our sandwiches are ready. Now about 11:30, I find I'm famished and waste no time scarfing down my food. Harry watches me intently with a smirk on his face, but rips into his own sandwich nonetheless. I look to him expectantly, and for some reason I care a whole lot more about his opinion than I should. It's a stupid restaurant, but I feel as if it represents more than that. If Harry likes my little, dingy, hole-in-the-wall joint, maybe he doesn't care as much about money as I think he does.

After a few bites he looks to me with an approving expression, nodding in acclaim as he chews a piece of tomato.

'Amazing.' Harry mumbles through a full mouth. I giggle in amusement, at the same time releasing a sigh full of relief. Well, that's one less thing to worry about.

We sit for an hour, finishing our meal and continuing to talk. I find I just like to hear Harry speak, no matter what he's saying. He could be reading out a textbook on the second law of thermodynamics and I'd line up to listen.

Eventually, I lead him out of the shop and we're on our way yet again.

'Something a little more Canadian, eh?' Harry questions, making a pun as he does so. I swat at his shoulder but don't release my firm grip on his hand. I look to the producers following us for a split second and see them nod, so I pull the tickets from my pocket.

'Know what these are?' I question, handing Harry the pieces of paper. He takes a moment to examine what I've given him, and then his eyes widen with excitement.

'No way!' He exclaims, looking more like a little boy than a grown man. I grin with pleasure, happy that Harry's happy. I lead him off across the city to Madison Square Garden. When we finally arrive people are already packing into the stadium, lined up with their tickets in hand.

Harry and I do the same. Unfortunately, I don't have any tricks up my sleep to help us cut the line as we did at the Eiffel Tower in Paris, but I get the feeling that both of us would prefer to wait our turn like the rest of the people around us.

Soon we're inside and taking our seats. The atmosphere around us excites me and I remember just how fond of hockey games I really am. I never go, on account of the tickets being too expensive, but today I was able to convince the producers to buy them for me.

We're sitting, beers in hand, when Harry turns to me.

'Want to know something funny?' He asks, a small smirk on his face. I turn to him with interest and nod.

'I've been here before.' He tells me. I raise my brows in acknowledgment, putting on a fake smile for the cameras. That's not really super funny... Harry see's my confused expression and goes on.

'You know why I was here?' Harry asks again. This time I shake my head to signify that I, in fact, don't know.

'A concert.' Harry tells me matter of factly. I smile again encouragingly, still unaware of why exactly he thinks this is funny.

'Oh, really? Who played?' I ask.

'Me.' Is all Harry says before turning back to the ice. For some reason, my cheeks heat and I look away. I was not expecting him to tell me this, and I'm not exactly sure what to make of it. My Harry- my sweet, humble, simple Harry- played Madison Square Garden?

I remember pondering this topic before. I always wondered just how successful his band was. I thought the name of it ringed a bell, but I'd never listened to his music before coming on The Bachelor. Obviously, I was an outlier.

Harry doesn't mention his concert again once the game starts. As I intake more than a couple beers my passion for the game shows through, and soon me and Harry are shouting along with all the other enraged fans in the stadium. It feels nice to do something so domestic with Harry. All we've had the chance to do up until now is go on romantic, fairy-tale walks through vineyards in Italy and ascend the Eiffel Tower in France. For some reason I feel a lot more connected to him doing something so mundane as going to a hockey game. I like it.

After 3 hours we exit the stadium, still followed by the ever-present cameras, and I realize it's time to take Harry back to my apartment. Olivia will be there in an hour.

I lead Harry along the sidewalk, letting him do most of the talking about the game we just witnessed as I stare nervously down at the pavement beneath my feet. I wish we were going anywhere else, and it feels as though my weeks of fear are coming to fruition.

One of my major concerns for a while now has been whether or not Harry will be offended by my status. I have very, very, very little money since I decided to quit my former job and look for decent employment. Obviously he does not share the same concerns. I have even more proof hearing that he played a fucking concert at Madison Square Garden of all places.

Will Harry mind? I feel as if he's not the type to care, but I can never tell until I put a person to the test.

So, as we head through my sketchy neighbourhood to my dinky apartment I hold my breath. We ascend a couple flights of stairs until we reach my door. I pull my keys from my bag and find when I attempt to slide them into the lock my hands are shaking.

I take another deep breath, turn the lock, and step inside. My apartment is revealed to Harry. I spent the better part of a week cleaning and dusting and mopping and folding until the place looked as near to perfection as it possibly could be. It was clean and it was homely- it was just small.

'Well... this is it.' I tell Harry, gesturing inside. I watch him very carefully now, scanning his expression for distaste, but his features give nothing away.

'Lovely, just like you.' Harry turns to me and says after a moments contemplation. Butterflies arise in my stomach and my cheeks heat uncharacteristically.

'Really?' I question. I don't want to appear as weak as I really feel, but I can't help it.

'Of course! I wish my place looked like this.' Harry says, and I know he's not teasing me. He sounds 100% genuine. I shrink into myself unconsciously, my hands clasping together nervously as I hear his words. That's good. That's good news. He doesn't seem to mind. At least not from what I can tell.

'Just give us a second to set up guys.' A camera man murmurs from behind Harry and I. I can feel their frustration at how little room they have to work with. I don't care about them, though. I only care about Harry.

Finally, we have a moment off camera together. Although the others are still here with us, Harry scoops me up into his arms and places a hard kiss to my lips. I'm surprised for a moment, but melt into him easily.

'What was that for?' i ask sarcastically, although I'm sure the nerves are still very evident on my face.

'I'm having a great time.' Harry shrugs nonchalantly, but I know what he's trying to tell me. He knew I would be scared to bring him back here. He knew I would doubt whether or not he'd be ok with my living situation. This is his way of telling me that he doesn't care one bit.

I jump up and attack his lips with my own a little harsher than normal, elated by Harry's reaction. He lets out a cute squeak of surprise, and at this I can't keep a straight face.

'Oi, you scared me!' Harry lamely tries to defend the odd noise he let out, but I don't tease him further once I manage to stop laughing.

Soon the cameras are up and rolling and Harry and I have retreated to the small couches in my living room. Just making small talk and discussing the events of the day, we're suddenly interrupted by 3 loud knocks at the door. I glance to the clock on my wall and sure enough, it's 5:05 PM. Olivia's here. Harry's about to meet my sister.

***

Love you all! Have a great day!

L