Winter Air [H.S.]

Forty-One

"I'm fine." He spoke quietly. She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows and concern in her eyes.

"Are you sure? You don't smoke."

Harry smirked. "You don't know much about me, babe." With that, he exhaled a long drag from lips. He removed it from his mouth and stubbed it out on the balcony railing. Harry walked past her and back into his apartment. She soon followed and closed the door behind her.

Harry sat back on his bed with his head in his hands. Libby slowly walked over to the bed and began to find her pieces of discarded clothes. She pulled on her dress and walked over to her bag. "I'll see you later then." Not once did he look up or acknowledge her exit. She just rolled her eyes and left without saying another word.

Once he knew that she was gone, Harry stood up and walked over to the bathroom. He turned the shower on and allowed the hot water to run down his body. He stood there and allowed the drops to burn his skin. His body had become numb to the feeling. He stood there for a few minutes not once moving. His thoughts drifted back to her, like they always did. Harry didn't even bother to stop them anymore. It was funny. As much as he knew that she broke his heart, he still loved her with all of the shattered pieces.

One year ago, not once did he picture his life the way it was now. He would not have pictured himself in California with a book deal. Not once would he had imagined that he would be nursing a broken heart once again or that he would be using someone to mend the broken pain. But that was life. Life had a tendency to throw you curveballs. It had a tendency to allow things that you didn't care for to happen and you just had to go with it. The smell of vanilla filled the small shower box bringing him back to reality. It was the scent that brought him back to her but he didn't care.

The water grew colder. He walked out and wrapped a towel around his hips. It sat low showcasing his butterfly tattoo and v-lines. His curls were a wet mess on top of his head. He ran his fingers through it allowing it to fall back into a messy quiff of curls. He pulled on a black t-shirt and jeans. His sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose as he walked out of the building. It had been exceptionally warmer today. Not that he minded, however. It had been a nice change from the usual cold weather from home.

Sometimes change was good. Sometimes change was needed.

He was coming to terms with that ever day that he lived in Los Angeles.

-

East Side Publishers was a rustic building. The outer walls wer a dark red brick. It was a smaller building, but Harry didn't mind. A guy sat in the receptionist desk. He had shaggy blonde hair that was pushed off to the side. He looked up at Harry. "Could I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm here to meet with Adam?"

"Name?"

"Harry Styles."

"Okay. Adam is up one floor down the hall. Just go up the elevator over there." With that he looked back at the computer screen in front of him not giving Harry any more instructions. Harry turned around, rather confused, and walked over to the elevator. He had been given a week to settle in before he started anything with the book launch. He was thankful for that.

The upstairs level was equally as rustic as the outside. Brick walls lined the room. The room was messy but organized. Bookcases lined the brick walls full to the brim with novels. Excitement began to brew within Harry at the sight of all of the books. He couldn't help but walk over to a nearby bookcase and look over all of the different titles. Most of them he didn't recognize. He had assumed that they were books that East Side had published. As his eyes continued to roam the over the different titles, something in particular caught his eyes. The Secret At Restless Bank by Flint Hastings. Flint Hastings?