Cute As A Button (h.s)

Chapter One - Unhappy Birthday to me!

(AN: First chapter! Argghh, I'm excited! Don't forget to comment and tell me what you think! I always welcome criticism, every little helps I say! I love you all for the support I get on my Nathan Sykes fanfic, Lets Get Ugly. Enjoy, my fairies! Oh and let me know whether you think it should be all in Harry's POV or all in Emily-Elizabeth's or mix and matched!)

Would like to thank ZerriePerfect for her wonderful trailer that she made! Thanks so much, hun! it's amazing! xxxx

Emily-Elizabeth's POV

I stare at my boyfriend who's sat across the room from me, his eyes glued to the screen of his mobile phone and taking no notice of me whatsoever. He's been like this for the past half an hour and the only reason he's in my house is to spend my birthday with me, but no, he decides to stay on his phone the whole time. He hasn't even brought me a birthday present which he told me that he'd already bought and that I'd love it. I don't want to sound like a bitch but don't tell someone that you've gotten them something for their birthday when really you're lying to them. It doesn't go down well and you lose brownie points in the relationship. I open my mouth to say something but I'm cut off by him standing up and shoving his phone into his jeans.

"Right, I'm off," he tells me stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly. I stare at him, my mouth wide open as I watch him make his way over to me. He plants a kiss of my forehead before disappearing out into the hallway where his jacket and shoes are. I push myself off the couch and follow him out of the room.

"So, you're just going to leave?" I say standing with my hands on my hips in the doorway. Harry looks up at him with an expressionless face. "You've only just got here. It's my birthday, Harry. What could be more important than spending time with your girlfriend on her birthday?"

"Emily, you understand that my job's really important, don't you?" He says to me as if I'm a little girl that's demanding that he stays home and plays dress up with me. "If I don't go Management will have a head fit and I really don't want to cause trouble for the boys or myself." I sigh in frustration. He leans closer and pecks my lips with his own but I don't kiss him back like I used to. This has become a regular thing; he leaves me for his mates, or because Management have apparently told him that he must a attend a meeting at that particular time. What I don't get is, if Management really needed him at a meeting why does he arrange to meet up with me at the same time?

"I guess I'll just sit on my own and watch re-runs of family guy then, shall I?" I snap at him crossing my arms over my chest and glare at him with my brown eyes. He gives me a look that you'd give someone if they were joking or being sarcastic, but I'm actually not joking.

"I'll call you later," he tells me turning around and opening the front door. I roll my eyes at the back of his head. Of course he's going to call me, he always calls me. I hope you caught onto my sarcasm then. So, then he leaves without another word and I just feel like crying. How did I end up in a dead end relationship? I don't even know if I love him anymore. When fans come up to me and they're like "do you love him?" I immediately say yes because I just want an easier life. We never say it to each other anymore, after a year and a half together we're just slowly drifting apart. But the funny thing is, Harry seems comfortable in this relationship. I think it's just that I don't ask questions anymore and I leave him be because I just can't be bothered with hassle.

I wander back into the living room and fall back down onto the couch, resuming the position from moments ago. I stare unseeingly at the TV screen and wish that everything could be like it was when me and Harry first met. When we were head over heels in love and weren't afraid to show it. But I guess, we just don't have that anymore.

The house phone ringing scares me back into reality and I reach over and grab it from the table. I press answer and hold the phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Happy Birthday, Emily!" My two best friends call down the phone and I chuckle. At least I have them to cheer me up when I'm down.

"Thank you, guys," I reply and I wonder how they got the chance to call me. "I thought you guys were working, how are you calling me?"

"We're supposed to be getting supplies from the back room," Nessa tells me. There's a bit of rustling as if someone's grabbing the phone off of her.

"But we're calling you instead," Tom, my other best friend, adds before handing the phone back to Nessa. I laugh at their sneakiness.

"We'll be done by five so we'll be able to hang out with the birthday girl," she says keeping her voice hushed so that her boss doesn't hear her. "Are you with Harry?" There we go, I knew one of us was going to have to mention him.

"No, he just left," I tell her, trying to keep the sorrow from my voice but I can tell that she's already detected it.

"He left you, in the middle of the day and on your birthday, alone?"

"Yup, he's so sweet, right?"

"Girl, that's not right. He doesn't care about you anymore, you need to get out of that relationship before you get hurt."

"But I don't want to get out of the relationship. I mean, he's freaking Harry Styles!"

"I know and I wouldn't tell you to do this if I didn't think it was the right thing to do, okay? I have to go, Jenna's coming. Just think about it, okay?" I can hear rustling again and then another woman's voice asking what's going on, making me chuckle. Nessa hangs up suddenly and I don't blame her.

She thinks I should break-up with him. Should I really do that? I can't do that; I love Harry. We've been through so much together and I know that his job is really stressful with all the travelling, recording, interviews and concerts and it must get to him sometimes. He's distancing himself with everyone, that's what I keep telling myself, so maybe it's just a stage that will pass in time. He can't be like this forever. It's just a faze that will pass. It will pass.