Runaway (Harry styles fan fiction)

Why do I always run into you?

Blazes POV

"Isn't it lovely outside?" I tried to start up a conversation with Frankie as she sat across the table from me. She wouldn't even give me a glance.

Just try again, Blaze.

"Listen? I don't know why you are still mad at me. I said I was sorry and it's not even my fault that I left. I didn't have a choice." I sighed, sitting back and looking around the familiar cafè.

"You could have been rude to them. You could have made them not want you. With your personality I'm sure it wouldn't have been hard." She spat, suddenly looking me dead in the eyes.

I'm taken aback by her sudden outburst but I don't hesitate to snap back, "I'm rude? Look who's talking!"

She rolled her eyes at me and went back to looking outside the window.

"You know what, Frankie? I'm calling Brinne back. I'm taking you back to the Foster home." I push my chair back and stand up, grabbing my hot chocolate in my hand while digging for my phone with the other. "I didn't have to do this you know. I didn't have to go out of my way to pick up some brat who isn't even greatful that I wanted to spend time with her."

"Fine, take me back. It's not like you care about me anyway." She practically yelled at me, hate boiling in her eyes.

I took a deep, calming breath trying not to lose it in front of all the other people sitting around while still digging for the phone.

And that was when I remembered I don't have a phone.

Well damn.

I really must be turning into a rich soiled kid to think that I have a phone. And yea yea I know it's weird. I'm 17 and I don't have a phone but the thing is I've never really needed one.

Until now that is.

I groaned impatiently, pissed that I didn't think this whole hang out through. I should have known Frankie would have acted like this; she's always been one to hold a grudge about absolutely nothing.

I looked back at the angry blonde who surprisingly was looking back at me with a smirk on her lips. But she wasn't looking at me, past me actually.

"What?" I tried to sound irritated with her but it came out as just plain curious.

Then I glanced behind my back.

No.

No no no.

Why, God? Why?

Frankie stood, my tall frame towering her easily, making her way right over to the table with the person I was dreading.

"Harry, right?" She asked him loudly, obviously wanting me to hear.

He jumped slightly, dropping something on the floor while doing so and looking up as Frankie sat in the seat next to him. He frowned eyeing her, curls down across his forehead with a beanie holding it in place his time instead of his hair usually pushed back. He looked more.. Boyish I guess? He leaned down and picked up the black writing object, closing a leather booklet set open in front of him and shoving it away, towards the window.

I turned away from the sight, ignoring the butterflies going crazy in my stomach.

It had been almost a week since the whole panic attack and hospital visit and I must say I still felt so uneasy just thinking about him. All these days that I haven't talked to him gave me time to think about what I was really going to say and I had a pretty good idea. I'd ask him why he lied to Gemma of course and why that fucking moron decided to force his way into my house and-