Hendall: MADE IN THE A.M.

Part I: History

I pretend to ignore the swarm of photographers on all sides of me, although it isn't easy when there's multiple cameras in your face and everyone's pushing. I can hear people calling out my name, but I keep my head down. The camera flashes are blinding to the point I have to shield my face with my hand.
Damn the paparazzi.
The restaurant comes into view as I anxiously round the corner, trying very hard not to stack it in my stiletto heels. More people are yelling and pushing and I find myself squashed in between the masses. A sense of claustrophobia overwhelms me, but my bodyguard is quick to push the pesky photographers out the way.
I tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear as I reach the door of the restaurant. My bodyguard holds it open for me as I slip in, leaving behind the flashes and cries and frenzy of the media.
I immediately let out a deep breath. Good riddance.
I make my way to the front desk of the restaurant where a young lady kindly shows me to a small table at the back, away from any prying eyes. I take a seat and hang my black jacket across the back of the chair, exposing my neck and front in a deep v-neck dress.
He'd better not stand me up.
The last time we had tried to organise a night out, it had gone horribly wrong and I was left stranded at a corner cafe with no ride home. Thank goodness the paparazzi wasn't there to capture that. But this time, there are plenty of photographers waiting outside. If he doesn't show up, I'm going to look like the stupid one.
Five minutes turn into ten, then fifteen.  I order a glass of champagne while I wait. Swirling the sparkling liquid inside the glass, I watch the large clock on the wall as the second hand ticks by and by.
Eventually, I hear a commotion outside as the restaurant door swings open and then closed.
I sit up straight. It must be him!
But as the figure rounds the corner and comes into view, my heart skips a beat and a sick feeling enters the pit of my stomach.
It's not Jordan. It's a young man with thick brown hair that falls in waves on his shoulders, with a pair of all-too-familiar striking green eyes.
Harry Styles.
A second later, his eyes meet mine.
What is he doing here?!
I quickly lower my gaze and turn my head away in a hurry as a waitress shows him to a table not too far from where I sit. He thanks her, and the sound of his husky voice sends a shiver down my spine. It's a voice I haven't heard in a long while.
I can feel his eyes on me, burning into me with the same intensity of the night we had shared our first kiss. That memory seems so long ago, so fragile, almost as if it doesn't really exist.
I know it's a bad idea, but I simply can't help it. I lift my eyes up to him, and he gives me a small, albeit equally confused, smile in return. My heart pounds beneath my skin, and then a million thoughts start rushing through my mind like an electric live wire.
What about Jordan? Is he going to show? What is he going to say when he sees Harry here?! And, blast it, the paparazzi!!! They had seen me enter, and then Harry, so everyone's going to think -
I won't allow myself to finish the thought. We had ended our relationship years ago for a reason. I was a model, he was a rock star. The two of us just weren't compatible - aren't.
I lose myself in my worrisome thoughts that I barely notice when Harry gets up and starts making his way towards me. I freeze. He is wearing a plain white shirt with black jeans and boots. As he approaches my table, he runs a hand through his long, messy hair; a force of habit, as he had once told me.
I stiffen as he takes a seat opposite me and rests his elbows on the table. His face is so close to mine. I can feel and hear his breath.
"I was wondering what all the paparazzi were outside for," he laughs, his eyes skimming over me. I suddenly feel very self-conscious in my revealing dress, and I receive the urge to wrap myself up in my jacket. Damn Kylie for making me dress "sexy".
I smile, but it is an awkward and unnatural smile, and I know he knows it too.
As I stare into his eyes, memories come flooding back to me, and all I can think is we've got a whole lot of history.