Love to Hate You (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter 1 - The California Nightmare

Short chapter, I know :L Just give it a chance, pretty please?

- Autumn's Point of View -

 It was just like any day in the dreary town that was Holmes Chapel. Kai and I would go to the nearby ice cream shop and he would pick cookie dough and I would pick mint-chip ice cream. We would sit in the corner booth and talk about our week, while we waited for Frankie to join us after her art class with little kids. Today, on the other hand, I wasn’t going to be with Kai as a bit of his cookie dough ice cream dripped on the countertop. I wasn’t going to snuggle into bed at night, watch a movie, or paint. At least, I wasn’t going to do it in my own home.

 I stared out the window of the plane, dreading the moment I would step out of its doors and come face to face with my dad and step mother, also known as the Wicked Witch of the West. She was what you’d call a gold digger, or that’s what my mother described her as. Then again, mother had also said she was a fire breathing dragon…

I did not plan on spending my entire summer vacation in California with dad and the bottle-blonde bimbo, even if I didn’t know anyone or anything about the Golden State. I would go on an adventure and meet new people. Yeah, right, I thought, examining everyone on the plane. This was coming from the girl who was too scared to have other people push her on a swing.

I calmed myself down as the plane reached the ground after fourteen hours of pure agony. I, being a horrible claustrophobic, waited exactly 10 minutes until almost everyone had left the plane until I got out of my seat and reached for my duffel bag. I grabbed it and automatically pulled out my phone, dialing in the familiar number of the house I knew my mum would be in, considering it was a Saturday. After 3 long beeps, a girl picked up.

“Hello,” I heard the familiar voice through the phone.

“Gemma!” I exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were on break.”

I heard her give a small laugh, “And I didn’t know that you were going to California for a month.”

“Sorry,” I said, and I knew I meant it, “It was really last minute. Trust me, I don’t even want to be here.”

I walked out of the plane and felt the warm breeze of the air vents hit my face. Talk about a Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore moment.  We weren’t even outside and it was warmer than the UK! Another difference between home and here, when a woman bumped into me as she walked out, she apologized and actually gave me a small smile, the complete antithesis of what would have happened at home.

“How is the California dream so far?” she said. I could practically feel the playful sarcasm.

“Warm.”

“Wait a second,” I heard her say, more to herself than to me.

“Mum,” I heard her call to her mother, “Aren’t the boys in California?”

I made an abrupt stop, as I searched for my suitcase. The boys?  As in, the five that I tried my hardest not to talk about? Oh, no. Oh, no no no no no, I thought to myself as I continued searching through baggage claim, phone wedged between my head and shoulder.

“Gemma,” I said, as she turned her attention back to me, “Please tell me they’re far far away from LA.”

Gemma didn’t mind that I had a bit of…distaste…toward the band that must not be named, as I called them, because of my love of Harry Potter, even if her brother was one of the members. She understood me and never said a word when our mums began talking about the band and I silently walked out of the room. She kept my secrets safe.

“I’d be lying if I did, love,” I heard her say and all of my hopes of not seeing him ever again crashed all around me. “They might actually have been on the same flight as you.”

Thank you, claustrophobia. I might have actually bumped into them on the plane, if I hadn’t waited for everyone to leave.  At least Los Angeles was a big city. Hopefully, I would survive one month without the mention or sight of them.

“Say ‘Hi Fall!’, Kiwi,”  I heard and automatically turned around dropping my phone, knowing the only person who ever called me “Fall” as joke was standing before me.

I hadn’t seen this man, since I was fourteen years old. At least, not in person.  Yet, he looked almost exactly the same as he had been on court day. That relieved smile on his face, when he had realized my mum got full custody of me. It sickened me. He sickened me.

He gave me a loving smile, as he handed me the green parrot and gave me a big hug. Birds had been a huge part of my family for quite a long time, until a few years ago, since he was never there. The birds might have been the only thing I had missed about my dad. Other than that, I despised almost everything about him. His style. His grace. His patience. His carefree attitude. His fashion sense. Even his cologne. His job was probably the most irritating of all. Who would want to sit outside of a recording booth for hours and hours on Daddy/Daughter day? Count me out. He was a studio owner in over eight different countries. I hated it and the people he worked with and the people who got involved with him for his money. Speaking of the devil, the blonde banshee gave me a huge toothy smile as she attempted to hoist one of my bags from the floor with her manicured hands.  If I had to deal with her all summer, might as well enjoy her kissing my ass the entire time.

“You can go ahead with Rita if you want to, sweetheart,” he smiled, addressing me, “I have to pick up a few more clients.”

“No tha-,” I stopped in the middle of my rejection. It hit me like a wave, as I watched my father wave at the heads of five boys, who were coming dangerously close to where we were standing.

I ducked and ran to the exit of the airport, yelling back, “Actually, I think I’ll go with her.”

They were here. They were his clients. They were the people who were planning on recording their entire album at his studio, which my dad had told mum giddily over the phone. Who knew how long that could take? The entire summer, maybe. In order to not come face-to-face with him ever again, I would have to duck and cover every step of the way my whole vacation. That was no guaranteeing my father wouldn’t mention me when they were around. Or worse, invite them over. I shuddered as I got into the bright red Porsche.

I watched as Rita picked up her makeup case, while driving, and began applying lip stick. Glaring at her, I stared at the California sun and felt my eyes burn. I had always found it so strange that something so far away could still hurt you, just by looking at it. When I was younger, I would sometimes wish I was liked the sun. No one would be able hurt me, because I was so far away. Of course, I never told anyone what I was thinking. I always kept quietly to myself.

I received a call from my phone, which dad had paid to receive calls internationally, even in California, “Hello?”

“Honey,” it was dad again, “This might sound really strange b-bu-“

I couldn’t hear him well, but I could have sworn I heard hooting and hollering that only teenage boys could make in the background.

“What?” I asked, dreading my guess.

He repeated, more clearly this time, as we got out of the tunnel.

“One of my clients thinks he knows you.”

Shit.