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Chapter 4

"Feels like snow in September, but I always will remember."

-Summer Love, One Direction

Chapter 4

Harry pulled out a chair for me at his dining room table before going over to the kitchen and turning on the kettle.

"Tea?" he asked, holding up a mug with a smile.

"I can't," I replied, to which he rolled his eyes, muttering, "She'll give up eventually," and using the mug for himself, placing the tea bag inside. I felt slightly uncomfortable in the silence, so tried to strike up a conversation.

"You said that your bandmates hang around here a lot, but do you ever go and stay with them?" He turned away from the kettle, still smiling. He must've found me very strange and was probably still waiting for me to tell him that I was all a joke that one of his friends set up for him.

"Sometimes. I prefer the comforts of my own home to others, to be honest. I mean, I'll stay with them quite a lot, but they mostly come over here. Besides, I don't like it at Louis' house because it's so damn messy, and he likes it here because it's relatively neat. So I guess it kind of works both ways," he explained, crossing his arms and leaning against the bench.

"What about your other bandmates?"

"I hang out at Niall's quite a bit, and Liam's pretty neat. Zayn just sleeps a lot and doesn't get out much so he's kind of boring sometimes. Fun on tour, though," he continued, hearing the kettle's switch flick back up, signalling that the water was boiled and he carefully poured some of the steaming liquid into his mug. He had obviously done this thousands of times, showing expertise as he took out the teabag and poured in a small amount of milk. I didn't see whether or not he had already put sugar in before or if he had done it now, but it really didn't matter, because it wasn't like I would ever be able to drink the tea anyway.

He sat next to me by the table, taking a small sip of his tea before wincing and placing it down on a coaster nearby. I didn't speak, not knowing what to say to this beautiful stranger, while he stared down at my hands, something I found very confusing before his eyes darted up to meet mine.

"You're engaged," he said matter-of-factly, pointing down to the ring on my left hand, fourth one to the right. I glanced down at it fondly, feeling a pang of sadness as I remembered the way my fiancé smiled when he asked me to marry him.

"Yes, I was," I said, crossing my arms in my lap to hide the ring, not wanting to look at it anymore in case I cried. He tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

"Was?" he asked, taking another sip of the tea, but blowing on it beforehand this time. I nodded, turning away. "What happened?" My head snapped back to face him, giving him an angry glare.

"I don't want to talk about it," I snapped, feeling very rude, but he was very nosy. Then again, I was nosy, too, but I was just a hypocrite.

"Hey! Anyone home? Wait, that's a stupid question, the door was unlocked and your car is in the driveway. I'll rephrase. Honey, I'm home!" I gave Harry the strangest look as the front door slammed shut, an unfamiliar voice shouting down the hallway. He smiled lazily, and perhaps a little smugly; this was where he would see whether or not I was lying, though I knew he was about to be disappointed.

A short, brunette boy stumbled into the kitchen, carrying several plastic bags. "You were getting low on shit again, so I went to the grocery. Oh, and a bunch of fucking ten year olds asked for a photo and handed me a bag of fucking carrots. Why the fuck would I want carrots?" I gasped at his vulgar language, while Harry snickered, but he kept glancing between the boy and I, waiting for him to ask who I was.