Find You There (Fanfic Version)

Forty-Eight

It was hard. . .

Losing a boyfriend because I've fallen for someone else seemed a little bit decent enough of a choice. But I didn't just lose a boyfriend, I lost a friend.

Runner had everything in him, he wasn't unstable, he wasn't rough-tempered, he wasn't one to jump from place to place because he would rather just stay at home for his family. . . it's unlike Harry at the times.

He hasn't talked to me ever since I told him, right after the field trip. He hasn't talked to anyone and the cats had made me explain everything. They understood but the usual lunch isn't the same anymore. It's usually just us girls now. Harry doesn't join in respect for Runner and he also said he doesn't want to be in the same spot where Runner used to be. . . not at the very moment until he had made amends with Runner. That's fine with me.

Harry thought about quitting the soccer team too but Louis just gave him a straight, smug, 'no' with a swift hit on the head. Game for games, after all, no such thing as personal affairs.

Schedules are normal again. Harry and I meet at the soccer field as always and, well, the distance. . . that wasn't the same. He rarely even practices anymore but I still do read a lot.

One thing though, Runner left Fissler with me. So that's the company I keep at home. Usually, dad too.

"The Styles?" Dad asks as I pet Fissler. I nod. "Isn't he already married?!

"Dad! The other Styles, the younger one," I almost whine even though I know he's messing with me.

He laughs, "I know." See? He's where I got my love for messing with people. "Does the Styles know about this?"

I nod, "Same day you knew."

"What about your ex?"

It's sort of weird how I mostly talk about these things with dad, if not, Robbie. It's barely any female figure. I'm just much more comfortable that way.

I sigh, "Runner. . . I suppose he's fine. He hasn't talked to me but I can't really expect him to actually appreciate it right?"

I take a few dog food pieces and feed them one by one to the ever-hungry Fissler.

Dad nods with a smile. "But here I am hoping you do well with Harry. He's a Styles, after all and do not mess with him."

I roll my eyes, "Dad, I mess with him. That's what got us in this mess in the very first place." Then I thought, that just sums up our situation every single time.

I only snap out of my thoughts when Fissler slightly scratched my leg so I feed him a few more pieces of dog food.

"But dad, even though we're like enemies in the business, is it like, okay if Harry and I are -"

"Not advisable but who am I to stop the two of you? I'll just be behind you, you know that," he says, making me smile. "Where is he, by the way? It's your prom night tonight."

"He's uh - in - Silverstone," I answer. I don't even know where that is. "Racing."

"What kind of racing does he do? Kart or-"

"Sports car racing, currently. When he's here, he usually goes with stock car racing," I reply. Since I got tired of feeding Fissler over and over, bit by bit, I put a fistful in his dog bowl and turn to dad as he continues. . .

"Uhuh, Taylor, that made sense," he remarks flatly, leaving me to laugh.

"Sports car is where he uses his grand tourer, it's like this long race of at the very least 622 miles. It's like a team race because they switch every once in a while," I try to explain even though I think I am not making any sense because the races dad was used to are the ones with cars running around in ovals but that's stock car racing. . . as I recall. "You're right, I make so much sense."