Time Share; A Haylor Fanfic

Chapter 1:

Chapter 1:

•Taylors POV•

"I'm serious, Ed! Stop making me sound like some kind of coniving witch!" I laugh into the phone, babbling on about cheating a snooty old lady out of a fair price though she was bargaining an outrageous price for a relatively valuable item. The business is slow today, unlike the success thriving in the past few days with the soccer team coming into town. Town being Cheshire, the town i had moved to at a young age to accommodate the travels of my father and his work with the Styles'.

"Well, the lady must have deserved it if you, the honorable Taylor Swift, would ever so dare to cheat a frail old lady from a cat cookie bowl!" Ed speaks through the phone in a mock girly voice that screams sarcasm. I scoff. He had been born and raised here in the UK, though our moms were the best of friends though we lived in separate countries. I was born in Pennsylvania though moving to Cheshire.

"She best be grateful she even got the dang cat bowl, I wanted that too..." I trail, shuffling an ordering form into my view in an attempt to remind myself of an errond of mailing the item bought. His warm chuckle sends echoes into the phone.

"Cat lady.." He murmurs into the phone causing both of us to burst out laughing in a fit at the inside joke. It had been originated by my cat, Toby and grown into a joke between us how much I care for the creature. I stifle my laughter as a costumer enters, quieting myself in an attempt to end the call.

"Ed, there's a costumer, I gotta go i'll call you." I mumble quietly into the phone as if not to disturb the single guest.

Before I can hang up I hear Ed babble quickly a reminder that we're going clubbing tonight and that he'll pick me up at 7. I groan, clicking the phone shut. I hate clubbing usually, just because of the amount of times random guys start grabbing at me like I'm a piece of meat.

I direct my attention to the costumer who's bounding towards me in wide, confident strides. My breath hitches in my throat at the young man. I'm never drawn to many guys that I lose my composure and despite my struggles I won't lose it now. He's breathtaking, his youth striving that he's around my age with curly hair that frolicks up giving him a wolverine look that seems as if he'd gone through a blow drier. He wears a white button up that's buttoned sleeved to the elbow with dark grey work pants. Attractive, no less.

"How much is this?" He says in a husky British accent, our eyes meeting which chills my skin into goosebumps. I shrug it off. Then I recognize him. The tan skin, dark hair, dashing green eyes... He's Tony's son Harry!

"Hey, I know you!" I exclaim with a slight point then turn to examine the guitar he holds in his hand. It's dark wood, one that I usually play here, the one I had carved my intials into the base. "$40 bucks." I add.

His eyes glaze over with arrogance as he smirks, "Of course you recognize me, great job keeping your composure until I came over, love. I was afraid you were going to tackle me. And isn't that a little much for a guitar like this?" He holds it up in disgust.

I scoff, raising an eyebrow at the brat I had expected and now saw. "I meant," I start with conviction. "That my dad knows your family well, Scott Swift? Oh and that guitar is worth a lot more than it looks."

"Never heard of him. Are you sure you can't just let the price slide just a... bit." He trails off as he switches topics, his hands sliding across the glass counter easingly. I pull back away and stifle laughing at him and his arrogance. He actually thinks he can flirt with me. I might be taken by his looks but not with that attitude.

"Uh, I don't think so, Mr. Styles. $40 dollars, take it or leave it. And with the money I know you have, that should be a very easy purchase, sir." I saunter with a glare, my voice coming off sarcastic. Harry steps back as if not use to be told no and shocked by my resilience before leaning back in closely so no one in the empty shop can "hear".

"Listen here blondie, I don't get told n-"

"No, bedhead, you listen here. I'm not some kind of girl you can lure in just to drop a price you could pay as if it's fast food money. I have a small business and I need the money that you're so cheap to use. And yes, I'm telling you no." I state confidently, edging my words with exact persicion. He stands back, his face distressed and agitated as his muscles stand on edge of pulsing out in frustration. I give myself a mental pat on the back and smirk at him as he stumbles at pulling out his wallet.

He doesn't say another word as he pays, grips the guitar and starts out in an angry fury. I plaster on a fake smile and wave, "Have a terrific day, Mr Styles!"

What a wonderful first meeting with my dads' bestfriends' son. And what a lovely son.