inspirations // harry styles

chapter eight // blast from the past.

"Smile at the camera, princess, you're about to be famous!" A man shouts at me before thrusting his camera in front of my face. One of Harry's bodyguards shoves the man away just as he snaps a picture of my surprised face.

Harry tugs my hand and gestures to a small diner just on the other side of the mob.

"It's great to see you all, it really is," Harry shouts to be heard over the crowd, "But if you could be so kind to let us grab a bite to eat, that'd be lovely," He smiles his typical charming smile. I can't help but to smile as I watch him work his magic.

It's as if he was Moses parting the Red Sea, people just move out of the way for him. He flashes a grateful smile to the paparazzi before holding the door open for me. He hurries in after me, shutting the diner door with much haste.

The diner sounds spookily quiet compared to the outside. The eyes of the inhabitants land on us with much interest.

I can't help but to let out a loud laugh as I catch my breath. That was so intense! I have to admit, being the center of attention like that was a pleasant surprise.

"Sorry about that, love," Harry frowns, catching his own breath, "I figured my luck with the public would continue, but apparently not,"

He squeezes my hand, which he still hasn't let go of since he helped me out of his SUV, with an apologetic smile on his face.

"Please, it's nothing I'm not used to," I fake an over-the-top British accent, and brush my braid off of my shoulder dramatically. Harry lets out a loud laugh and shakes his head at me.

An extremely nervous waitress leads us to a booth towards the rear of the diner. As we pass tables, a man gets out of his booth and bumps directly into me. Luckily Harry has a grip on my hand so I don't go spiralling to the ground.

"Oh, I'm sorry," The tall man turns around quickly.

"It's no prob-" I start to assure the man, but my words melt right on my tongue as I look upon the face of the man. "Tate," I say in surprise.

Tate's dark eyes flicker over to Harry, criticism clouding over his features. A frown sets on his lips as he looks down at our intertwined fingers.

"Olivia," He looks back down to me, towering over me like always, "What a pleasant surprise," He says, acid behind every single one of his words, turning my shocked face into a bitter expression.

I can feel Harry standing up taller beside me and making himself much more present, which is exactly what I was hoping he wouldn't do.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?" Tate asks, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the side of the booth he was just seated at.

I take a deep breath, wishing I was anywhere but here at the moment. I turn to look at a very serious-looking Harry. I don't think I've seen him this serious since I've met him.

"Harry, this is Tate, my ex," I explain, the discomfort becoming very obvious in my tone.

"Nice to meet you, mate," Harry holds out his free hand to shake Tate's hand politely.

Tate just lets out a small grunt as he shakes Harry's hand. I can tell he's judging him by his accent and pretty-boy-face already. I roll my eyes and send Tate a dirty look. He's being a jerk just I suspected he would.

"So you were the one all those paparazzi were after, huh?" Tate asks, looking out the diner to the mob of people still sitting there, probably waiting for us. Harry just nods politely, although I can see him fighting the urge to just ignore Tate all together. "He must be pretty famous then," Tate turns back to talk to me, "I bet you feel so special," He sneers, pulling out his famous douche-bag line of the day.