"Why are you telling me this?" My voice comes out between gritted teeth, as I pace back and forth across the sand, kicking it like a sulking child. "What is the point, Lea?"

I hear the loud sound of the door being shut at the other end, and all I can do is silently pray that she's on the inside of her apartment, and not walking down the hallway towards the elevator.

I just want to scream. Please, be on the bloody inside, Lea. Please, don't be walking down the hallway.

But I don't do that. I just stay quiet and wait for her to speak.

"What? What do you mean what is the point?" She sounds as astounded as she sounds... pissed off? "I am telling you this because, one, I'm learning from my mistakes of keeping things from you, and two, it's hardly a big deal."

I was falling asleep, for fuck's sake. I was calmed and relaxed, surrounded by silence and nothing more. Why did I grab the phone? Why couldn't I just ignore it and stay like that?

I am fully awake now. Every muscle of my body is tense and hard as a rock, my skin is itching all over, and my mind is screaming and cursing incoherently. All the while, I'm wrestling with this burning urge to throw the damn phone into the water. Or to pick up a fight.

"You're meeting your ex for dinner and it's hardly a big deal?" I spit out, choosing door number two. "Think again, love."

"You said... no, you promised you wouldn't do that." And I can tell she's biting her tongue, trying to keep her cool. "That you wouldn't make it about him."

Why don't you say what you really want to say to me, Lea? Fire away, don't hold back. Because I sure as hell won't.

"We've never talked about dinners, have we? You're the one making this about him, not me."

Come on. You woke me up, you poke the monster. Deal with it, fight me Lea.

"That's the thing, isn't it? We didn't talk about anything." There she is, slowly but surely caving in to the anger I know it's building up inside of her. And I am practically salivating. "You said you would, and then you took off who knows where... Where the hell are you, Harry? Because you left me in this bloody limbo where I have no idea how to move around? Where do we stand? What are the rules here?"

I sharpen my ear, clutching the phone against it so I can listen to the background noises. There are no car engines roaring, or sirens howling in the distance. And since it's New York we're talking about, I reckon she stayed on the inside of her apartment.

What I do hear, somewhere at the back of my brain, is the sound of a bell ringing.

Like a boxing match, in which we are the heavyweight contenders, ready to begin. And we are both coming out of our corners, banging our gloves, ready to rumble.

"From where I'm standing you seem to be moving just fine."

There's a gasp at the other end. Like she actually felt the blow in her guts. And I smirk crookedly, looking around me as if I were looking at a cheering audience.

I don't recognize myself right now. With this fire surging from the pit of my stomach, making me fume. But I'm strangely raveling in the feeling. Like it's the first time in weeks I get to experience something other than the blues.

"That's fucking unfair, Harry." He slaps back, although weakly. "That dinner is about nothing more than t0 show some appreciation for what he did to me. He asked me and I just couldn't say no."

I laugh and she quickly asks me what is it that I find so funny about what she just said to me. And I laugh even louder, and way more cynically.

"Funny? Nothing about this is funny." I retort, rubbing my face. "It's quite tragical, actually. The fact that I'm here, writing a bloody repertoire with your name on it about how miserable I am, and you're strutting around being a proper thankful little girl."

If this were a real boxing match, I bet they would consider my last words as a punch bellow the belt. Foul play.

But it's not. And there's no one around to scold me for it. Unless you count that weak voice coming from one of the farthest corners of my mind, where the sensible Harry got shoved, that tells me I took it too far.

And I shove him a little further.

"Is that what this is all about, then?" Her voice is low and calm, but in the most blood chilling way. Like she's just getting ready for the perfect counterattack. "You being all broody and bitter just so you can write a few sad little songs? You're suffering in the name of your art? Go to hell, Harry."

She recovers fast, that much is easy for me to acknowledge. I am right against the ropes, hanging on to them as I try to steady myself into a less helpless position.

"You say that like it's been lots of fun for me." I breathe out. "Well, it hasn't."

The door opens again, and this time I can hear her heavy footsteps as she walks down the hallway. A few moments of silence, and then there comes New York, sounding louder than ever, screaming into my ear like a scorned woman.

"You know what? Here's an idea for you..." I hear the sound of a car halting, probably a cab. "Why don't you write a song about your ex-girlfriend shagging another guy oh so gratefully! And make sure it's an upbeat one!"

The silence that follows her words is so loud, it feels like nails against a chalkboard. Her words are echoing in my eardrums, sending my blood into a frenzy that burns everything in its wake.

My fingers tremble as I try to reconnect the call, and when she picks up, although I am quite surprised that she did, my voice rips through my chords in a volume I don't think I've ever used in my life other than to sing.

"Who the hell told you you're my ex-girlfriend!?" I shout, and I can almost see her pushing herself away from the speakers. I know I would. "Get out of that damn car right now, Lea, or so help me..."

"What? What are you going to do about it? Wherever you are, I doubt you can be here in the next ten minutes to stop me from walking into that restaurant. Fifteen if the traffic is bad. Can you?"

If this is not the definition of things escalating too quickly, I don't know what is. And yes, I know that I was the one who started the fight, but I never expected it to become this brutal. Or that I was going to end up losing.

"You're still my girlfriend, Lea. That much I know." My voice is several tones lower now, like I'm waving a white flag. "That much you should know."

Another silence comes on, but I know she's still with me. At least on the phone, that is.

"No, I'm not. And this is not about what you said or not." She speaks so flatly, so full of nothing, the little fire I had left in my blood fizzles out all together. "This is me saying it to you."

I'm on the floor now. And there's no use for a countdown.

It was a TKO.

A/N:

Well, well, well, things just got even worse.

I swear I wasn't planning of making such a drama, but I got carried away and I loved it.

What about you? What do you think so far?

In other news, following the amazing release of Harry Styles (which I truly love and consider a bloody classic already), I have decided to turn my love and admiration for Harry into a much more interactive thing.

That is why, along with a good friend of mine, I started an IG account where we post everything you need to know so you can be on the loop with Harry's solo career.

It is called inaharryway, and I would love to see you there! Please, check it out and, if you like it, give us a follow. I would really appreciate it.

Love you all!

Lucy.