The next morning, I made sure to wake up and put on the tacky pants and itchy, dull sweater all over again. However, this time I actually curled my hair to give it a loose-waves look and applied my foundation; necessary to cover any flaws I refused to unmask to anyone. After that, I applied a light shade of eye shadow, my top black liner and even reddened my lips with my new shade of lipstick that I was in love with. At this point, I knew that I had put too much effort into getting ready this morning so there was no turning back to the comfort of my sheets and pillows.

As I trekked downstairs, I heard a stirring of noises coming from the kitchen. As I got a bit closer, I heard Mum’s voice mumbling quietly to someone over the phone. I walked into the kitchen to find her blond waves in a mess that looked like it was created by a whirlwind, and her robe slugging over her body.

She had her mug clutched tightly in her hands, and gave an, “I’ve got to go,” to whomever was on the other line, before hanging up.

She hadn’t spoken to me yesterday since my hand had accidentally slipped across the new guy’s face and she looked frightened with horror. I probably messed up yet another relationship for her. Oh well, oh well.

Ever since my incident, she and Dad were never the same. Always distracted with their careers, someone’s plate was always left untouched at dinner; sometimes even both of their silverware was left clean, the aroma of reminiscence that they would rather be kept busy. Never stealing looks from each other, no more googly-eyes, no more secret kisses being hidden from me; zero, zilch, nada.

I usually never let guilt eat me alive or overrule me, but this was one of the few things I ever let get to me. I did what I do best and pushed it away, made myself run as far away from it as I could in my head.

“Hey,” I offered, trying to make some conversation while grabbing some hot cocoa mix from the cupboard. I absolutely did not care that it was only the beginning of November and it was unnaturally warmer than usual in Woodrose. Pennsylvania was usually much colder, but for some reason we had this wave of warmer air keeping our temperature somewhat steady. It excited Mum since she was able to garden a bit longer than usual. She was never really used to it outside since she used to live back in England and the conditions where she lived hadn’t really benefited an outdoor gardening experience.

Sometimes, I wondered what it would be like if I grew up there instead of here. I mean, I hadn’t really picked up on anything “British” besides the lingo and slang. I never quite developed the accent, besides the fact I say Mum, and that’s sort of because I never saw it as an accent. Mum technically has one, and I think that’s why I hadn’t really thought about Harry having that thick accent until now. Wow, he really did have one hell of a sexy voice. Where did he even come in? Whatever.

“Vi, be honest with me please,” she said to me, her mug shaking a bit as she gave me a stern look. “Have you been taking your pills properly? Did you skip yesterday… is that why you acted out?” She asked, looking at me worriedly.

I laughed and strolled over to her, kissing the top of her head and replied, “I’m taking everything fine, the exact way they were prescribed to me. The pills might help balance things out, but sorry Mum, they can’t balance my bitch levels out. We all already knew those were through the roof.”

She tutted at me and waved her hand off, obviously having enough of my sarcasm for the morning. I retrieved my finished cocoa, put it in my stainless steel thermos and was out the door.

I sat in the car and revved the engine, listening to the smooth purr of the car and feeling good. I was so happy that after a few months of stabilisation, they started giving me back my privileges one by one, and later on I got my driver’s license after they saw how I was coping.

As I shut my eyes and sipped my hot cocoa, managing to burn myself in the process, I heard a knock at my passenger window.

Harry Styles.

I rolled down the window and smirked. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the one, the only, Pretty Boy Styles. Back for more?”

“Not exactly,” his morning voice answered, slow and still a bit hazed with sleep. He ruffled his hair and rubbed his eyes while continuing, “My aunt left without me, called me a “lazy shit” and told me to find my own way to school. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking me?”

I laughed a bit to myself while sipping my drink, and nodded at him, “Get in.”

He opened the door and situated himself, his legs almost squished to his chest and he buckled his seatbelt as best he could. He looked at me, his legs, and then back at me, signaling he needed more room.

I unbuckled my seatbelt and leaned over him, feeling up under the seat for the lever to fix his seat.

“Woah, Viola. You’re quite the frisky girl. Only knowing me for a day and using your boobs and bum to initiate a conversation, and now this? Damn, you ought to be tamed,” he said, as I finally found the lever and adjusted his seat, squishing him even further for his comment. I turned my face directly to his and he looked sort of pain, but he was still smirking.

“You can stay like that now,” I smiled at him, and leaned back to my seat and fastening my belt.

He reached his big hands under the seat and was able to maneuver the lever to adjust the seat for himself. He looked back at me, seeming much more comfortable and batted his lashes at me.

“You’re such an asshole,” I murmured, checking my mirrors and pulling out.

We stayed in silent for about two minutes, and I decided I might as well make conversation with him due to the fact he was still joking and talking to me even after what I pulled yesterday, and because we still had about a 10 minute drive left.

“Wait, why did you Aunt yell at you? Don’t you live with your Mum?” I asked, eyeing him in the mirror.

I saw him look at me to answer in my peripheral vision. “Well, after you slapped me—”

“My hand slipped,” I corrected him, trying not to smile but failing anyway, this time I had to look at him to see his reaction.

He smirked and also tried hiding it but miserably failed, yet he continued, “Sorry, after your ‘hand slipped’,” he made sure to put air quotes around that last part, “my Mum explained to yours about how I was staying with my Aunt. I really wanted to be in America and come here, so I was able to board with my Aunt. I have no idea how my Mum convinced her to let me, she basically hates me.”

“Your Mum doesn’t mind you being here?” I asked, wishing it were that easy to convince my mom to let me move. I had serious dreams of moving to New York City and working with photography. It was something I had always been interested in. Either that or become a stylist, since I had always loved fashion as well.

“It took some convincing, but my Mum supports me with what I wanted to do. I wanted to come here and have a better shot at making a music career work out. Working in the bakery back at Holmes Chapel just wasn’t cutting it for me anymore. I have my plans and I wanted to come here to try and succeed in them. I meant to go audition for X-Factor back home, but I never got around to it,” He finished, intently watching me.

I stayed quiet and concentrated on the road some more. Harry was so determined, he was going to go somewhere and do something with his life. He was already on the path to it and part of me was so envious of him right about now. He was able to get a step closer to getting out, living his life for him instead of staying stuck in some shadow like I was.

“What about you? What do you want to do?” He encouraged.

“Get out of here,” I answered, which was honest, considering it was actually the first thing on my list.

He just shook his head and laughed a bit while murmuring, “Don’t we all?”

Notes

All I have written for now, adding more soon! x
-L