inspirations // harry styles

chapter one // run-ins.

"And why should I believe a single word that comes out of your mouth?" I narrow my eyes at him, batting his hand away from my face. A flash of frustration comes over his face and that serves as my reminder of why I hate his guts.

"Because, you're my everything." He collects himself and tucks a piece of my hair behind my ears, brushing my neck in the process; my weakness. I close my eyes and try to straighten my thoughts out.

I start to take a deep breath when suddenly a pair of familiar lips crashes against mine in their usual aggressive manner. The cool burst of spearmint gum makes me gasp for air. As soon as I regain my breath, I push Tate away with all the strength I can muster up.

After he staggers back a few steps, he looks at me with a hurt expression on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asks, "You're just going to throw all we had down the drain because you're still upset over stupid little mistakes I made?" He raises his voice.

"Except that's the thing. Those mistakes might have seemed small to you, but they mattered to me. So yes, excuse me if I'm still a little mad at you. You can't just kiss me and expect everything to be better!" I shout back at him, getting up in his face. "You treat me like some toy you can throw around," I give his chest a harsh push, anger hitting it's boiling point in my chest.

A sly smirk forms on his lips as he stares down at me, breathing just as heavily as me.

"That's all you are. A toy, an object. That's all you'll ever be to anyone. Easy." He drawls out his words, each one hitting me like a blow to the stomach.

WIthout even thinking, I reach out and slap him across the face as hard as I can. I feel the burn of the slap on my hands as his face snaps to the side, turning red almost immediately. He stumbles backwards and catches himself on the edge of the table. His hand goes up to the cheek I hit, defensively.

"Just you wait, Olivia. You'll be crawling back to me in no time." He laughs at me before storming out of the store.

Breathing heavily, I lean against the wall for support. My adrenaline starting to downfall, I start to feel the real pain inflicted from his words. I can't help but to start to let out a few tears, mostly out of anger. I wipe them away in frustration.

Tate and I were high-school sweethearts. We both were musicians and were completely in love. Tate was my first everything. I was planning on marrying him. Then graduation hit and everything changed. Tate started hanging out with new friends and I didn't matter as much any more. I was always that last on his list.

Then one day I head over to his house after not hearing from him for a few days. I was worried about him. But instead of finding him fatally ill, I found him in bed with some bimbo. I broke up with him immediately and haven't spoken to him since.

After I wipe my face dry of tears and fish my keys out of my pocket, I head out the front door. In the distance I hear a chorus of high-pitched screams. It sounds as if a group of teenage girls had just been released from captivity for the first time. I simply roll my eyes as I lock up the store.

I take a step out of the doorway when suddenly somebody crashes into me, knocking me completely over. I let out a small yelp of surprise as the person scrambles to their feet. I try to sit up, only to be grabbed by the arm and yanked to my feet.

I try my hardest to reach for the can of pepper spray in the bottom of my purse, but the person holds me tightly in place. I look up to see a boy, around my age, closing his eyes and whispering under his breath.

That same group of teenage girls race pass the doorway to the shop. I consider shouting out to them for help, but for some reason, I refrain from doing so. Instead I study the boy carefully.