One. || h.s.

Three.

He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward so they support his weight, letting out a long sigh. His long fingers are clasped together and I can't help but picture the way my fingers used to fit between his.

"That was a disaster," his gravelly voice breaks the silence and sends shivers through my body.

All our history is hanging in the air and in the words that we are not speaking. We are both choosing not to let it be the topic of conversation even though it hangs heavily over us. I don't want to talk about it as much as I'm being crushed by the weight of memories that keep floating back to me.

"You can say that again," I mumble into my knees, tears still silently falling down my numb face.

"That was a disaster," he says again and turns his head to offer me a small smirk.

I try my best not to let the corners of my mouth twitch but I fail.

"I'm sorry this had to happen," he says quietly, angling his body toward me.

"What? That you're dating my sister or that I had to freak out about it?" I say sarcastically. I don't allow my eyes to meet his as I continue to stare straight ahead of me.

"That your first day back was ruined," he clarifies gently.

"I almost expected something like this to happen. Things never go smoothly for me," I admit.

A chill rolls through me as a light breeze rustles through the trees and comes in contact with my exposed skin. Harry shrugs off his jacket and holds it out to me. When I don't move to take it, he sighs and wraps it around my shoulders. I try not to focus too much on the way the muscles flex in his bare arms under the patterns of ink.

"That's not true. You seemed to have a great time in California."

"I was at school," I remind him. "School is only as good as school can get, and because I was studying so much I didn't have much of a life. I didn't have time for things to go wrong."

"Yeah well I've been the exact opposite. Things were awful for me while I was still in school, but the last year has been better."

"Oh, right, you graduated," I recall aloud.

"Yeah, this will have been my first year out in the real world."

"Man, you're old," I tease and he chuckles lightly, a sound I thought I would never hear again.

"I'm only twenty two. You're not too far behind," he reminds me, nudging my arm with his elbow playfully.

I feel a strange ripple of comfort through my body which I never expected to get from being in New York, especially whilst sitting in an empty park with Harry at my side. It almost doesn't seem real that we're having a conversation without yelling or arguing like we always did. I can't get it through my head that I'm sat talking to Harry and I don't feel like running away.

This isn't that Harry Styles I once knew; we've both changed.

"Two years is far enough," I say quietly, smiling to myself. I still refuse to meet his gaze but I can feel his eyes still trailing over my face.

"You always seemed older than me, though."

"Yes, because you were an immature little shit," I remind him and earn a hearty laugh.  I wipe away the wetness on my cheeks, hoping to conceal the blush that rises in them.

"I couldn't agree more," he chuckles and lets silence fall between us.

I finally turn my head slowly to look at him, something I have not truly done yet. His eyes glow bright even in the dim light, shadows cast on his face accentuate his distinct jaw and cheek bones. His pink lips are pulled up in the corners to make a soft smile, which I return. I feel no sinking feeling when I look at him now, realizing that he isn't who he used to be. Instead, I find myself excited to know this man.