The Boy Who Never Gave Up (Harry Styles)

00 | The First Meeting

Dedicated to @DrewAltheo for the cover. thank you sooooooooooo much and sorry for the hassle I've caused you. T_T

Harry Styles stomped his muddy shoes on the café’s welcome mat, thankful that he was near decent shelter when the rain started. It was empty, save for the barista who looked a little less than interested with his arrival, holding a magazine and a girl sitting alone in one of the booths, her black hair swinging as she screamed into her phone.

“Oh I don’t know, dad. I mean, I can just apparate to your hotel now because I’m a wizard, can’t I?” You could see the extreme amount of annoyance in her expression as she rolled her eyes. “Take a look out of a bloody window; it’s raining cats and dogs out there!”

Interested, Harry marched on to the counter—sitting at a table with a girl you don’t know just isn’t isn’t done, even if you’re Harry Styles—and took a seat on one of the stools, calling the attention of the barista and ordering his favorite type of coffee: a mocha frappuccino.

“I don't have a car, walking is out of the question, the bus stinks, I haven't seen a taxi around for miles and I've been here for about an hour and a half already. What can I do but wait?” He turned his head and looked at the girl who was shrugging as if her dad could see her from inside the phone. “Dad, I know you miss me—my presence is a quite a missable one,” she joked, “But unless you want me to enter your hotel room sopping wet—not in that sense—and trailing muddy footprints on the fancy carpeted floor, you're just gonna have to wait, okay? Yeah, alright. Bye, dad.”

Seeing as she’d just placed her phone in her pocket and was now just sipping the nonexistent remains of her coffee as though in the hopes that some more would pop out of nowhere, Harry took this chance to sit in front of her, and that he did. Not without a smile, of course. A friendly one, that is. Not one of malice or misdeed.

Her brown eyes trailed up to look at his face as he slid into the seat opposite hers, and she looked a bit taken aback. Not in a harsh way, but in a a-complete-stranger's-sitting-across-from-me-oh-my-gosh way.

“Erm, hi?” Her voice was considerably softer than what Harry had heard from her not even five minutes before, but it was understandable; they were strangers to each other, so was she obliged to immediately treat him like he was someone she’d known since birth or something? No, no she wasn’t.

“I’m Harry.” He grinned, and she returned it with a small smile, seemingly unaffected by his talking to her—as if she was used to celebrities talking to her and stuff. He took that as something endearing. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m not here to kidnap you or anything—no, I’m not a barbarian—I just need some good company, and since that bloke over there”—He gestured to the barista whose eyes were raised, looking at the two of them uninterestedly before gazing back down at the magazine—“seems to be out of the question.” She laughed at this.

“Um, well then…” Her voice was louder now, but it was clear that she was still a bit shy and uncomfortable; he didn’t mind this. It was perfectly normal. “Uh, the name’s Julia, yes, as in Julia Roberts; call me whatever you want except Julia Roberts or something too embarrassing like Juju or whatever, as long as the nickname isn’t too demeaning it’s fine with me, and”—she lowered her voice—“please, don't ask me out or anything. It’s neither the fact that I have anything against you, nor is it that I think I’m in any way desirable or what you’d call ‘attractive’, but you never know with the people today, and I’m just a really strong believer in not dating anyone who I’ve just met.” She sighed, as if proud that she said what she just said, and continued, “Plus, even if I did get a boyfriend, dad would never allow it; he’s way too protective.”