Cherry: New Beginnings.

Pretty Girl.

"Because we have two kids who are a complete hand full sometimes.. And you're a kickass mum." He tells me, trying to kiss up to me, and I smirk but shake my head.

"Or maybe it's because I can't write songs." I tell him.

"Tell that to your three grammys." He mumbles under his breath.

"I won those for different times.. Those were different Cherries." I tell him, arguing his case.

"So bring back one of them.. Bring back beginning Cherry.. The one who would write shamelessly, and carelessly, any word or feeling or thought that came to her mind.. Write for her..." He tells me. He rolls onto his stomach, laying flat on his belly, propping his face up with his hand as he stares at me.

"She was so sad though..." I shake my head, remembering where I was at in those times. "Nightmares, and panic attacks... PTSD from the car accident.. And confusion with you, and how I should feel about Dean." I speak his name for the first time in years, almost choking on it.

"She was sad... But that sad girl made the one I'm looking at right now." He tells me softly, and I know he's right. "She was a pretty girl... Just like you are now.." He reaches forward, twirling a piece of my hair between his fingers.

"Says the pretty boy." I laugh, and he rolls his eyes at me. It's odd thinking back to those times. Now that my life has completely changed from the person I was back then. I haven't tapped into those feelings, or that place in such a long time it's almost... hard to remember. The heavy feeling I used to get rises inside my chest, the fears, and self doubt I carried, the hurt, and shame, and carelessness. It builds and builds to the point where I feel like I have to release it again.

"Pretty Girl by Lizzy McAlpine... You can find it on her instagram IGTV*

I start the tune over again, trying to keep the same soft integrity in my fingers I had before.

"A pretty girl stands on the sidewalk and cries, she never noticed the rain." I sing softly, encapsulating the sound of the guitar with my voice.

"This pretty girl had a boyfriend, but he's out in Nashville, and she's in LA." I sing, lifting my voice with the words, hating the thought of singing anything about him again.

"He doesn't call anymore, and she barely sleeps when she's anxious.. So it's been a few days." I laugh softly at my own lyrics, finding relief that it's not like this anymore.. That it's nothing like this.

"A pretty girl cries on the sidewalk, and she never thinks she'll be okay." I look out now, watching the clouds as I play. My skin doesn't itch anymore as I play.. No matter the contents of my words I feel so safe here in our backyard, him next to me, encouraging me as he watches me create. I hum out, letting my voice flow with the tune of the sound coming from my guitar. I smile as I think to the next words.. To the boy next to me.

"A pretty boy sits with his journal, trying to write down the words in his head..." I smile, not looking at him but thinking of him from back then.

"This pretty boy has a habit of taking the worst kind of people to bed." I make a slight dig, and I hear him scoff from beside me, only making me smile wider.

"A girl broke his heart in California, he's wanted to leave here since." I start again, and notice his face, stopping for a second as I lose track of thought. I laugh, and start again, getting back on track.

"A pretty boy with his journal, and wonders if one day it might all make sense..." I channel the feelings from back then, and strum for a few seconds, feeling his fingers draw up and down my bare thigh softly as I lay in the grass wearing his old kiss tshirt. I hated it all back then, the thought of this, and I know he did too... We wanted it though.

"If love is so great, then why do I feel so sad?" I ask my old self, already knowing the answer.

"All of the time I just, wanna know if it's real, and if so I'll be damned." I laugh as I sing.

"Cause all of this time I've been hoping, someone will get me through." I push my voice, and now the guitar too. "I thought that it was love. I thought that it was him. But if love is real then why do I feel so sad..." I ask again, letting my voice flow more free, letting some of the old pain go again, calmness coming back over me now.

"Pretty girl stands on the sidewalk, and cries, she never noticed the rain." I start over again, going back to the start.

"A pretty boy writes in his journal in the corner of a small cafe." I catch a glimpse of him, his lips turning up, and I catch a glimpse in my own mind, seeing him walk up to me at the beachwood cafe that day.. The place he told me he used to come alone to clear his mind..

"He sees the pretty girl crying, and he runs out to ask if she's okay..." I open my eyes, feeling my eyes swell, feeling a wave of euphoric happiness cascade through me, taking care of any sadness I had just felt.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence... but I think it was fate." I smile, and feel the guitar, leaving my hands. I lean forward onto my elbows to look, and as soon as I do I see him set the guitar to the side, and pull me forward by my arms. I squeal, and he leans back, sitting me in his lap.

"I think it was fate... pretty girl." He moves his hand up, and tucks my hair back, letting his fingers lace through my hair, and pull through softly till it reaches the end. He takes the ends of my hair, twirling them softly as he stares up at me. "What's going on in that head of yours cherry baby.." He speaks softly.

"Nothing... Pretty boy." I lean forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek, and he steals a kiss, a real one, and another and another.

"Come on, i'll make you a smoothie... We have to feed the cats anyway." He nods his head, and I push myself up. He reaches down to grab the guitar, and I jump on his back as he does. He breathes out but laughs, and I see his smile grow as he holds on tight to me. He grabs the guitar anyways, and starts running, charging up the steps of our home. We get to the top step, and he lets me go, but I snatch the guitar from his hands, running through the door, sliding on the hardwoods.

"Baby..." He steps forward, and places his hand over mine. "Give me the guitar." He argues, and I smile up at him, shaking my head.

"Absolutely not." I laugh lightly, trying my best to hold it in.

"And why not Darlene Styles?" He asks, using my full name as he usually does.

"Because Harry Styles, you are my muse, and I need to write another song about you... This instant actually." I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow, hooking his finger under my chin.

"Oh is that so? And will you ever stop writing songs about me Cherry?" He asks me sweetly, inching closer to my face.

"No... Not a chance.. Not even till my very last breath."
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Song: pretty girl by Lizzy Mcalpine.

There's going to be a lot of Lizzy in this story per usual because I love her... PLEASE GOOOO LISTEN TO THE SONG TOO PLS