Perspective || Harry Styles

16~ Waffles in Times Square

“This is weird,” Louis mumbled as we walked out the front doors of the hotel. I chuckled, but didn’t say anything back. This would be good for him. An egotistical asshole out in the middle of New York City with not a single person’s attention focused on him.

I must admit, I hid him pretty well. His usually gelled up hair was now flat and covering part of his ears. I even pushed it to the side in the front, nearly resembling his teenage haircut. My hair was harder to deal with due to the awfully recognizable curls. Even a beanie couldn’t mask me, so I straightened it. Yes, I brought a flat iron to the brilliant curls that so many teenagers adore. I managed to style it, despite its obnoxiously long length, to make it look like the hair of a rebellious punk.

I purchased two sweatshirts from the hotel’s gift shop. Louis wore one with the hood covering his redone hair, and I wore the second the same way. It was perfect because, although it was summer, the sleeves hid our tattoos. As did the loose-fitted jeans, quite different than the usual tight pants Louis and Harry had grown accustomed to wearing. Converse sneakers topped off the outfit, most of which was purchased by Lou, the stylist, under our request. She didn’t ask what we were up to. I don’t think she wanted to know.

Naturally, sunglasses were necessary. We looked nothing like we normally did, and the only reason someone would have to point us out in a crowd is for our odd choice of apparel in the eighty seven degree heat.

“You’ll get used to it,” I told him.

“Something is going to go wrong,” he said. “Horribly, terribly wrong.”

“Lighten up. It’ll be fine.”

“I still can’t believe Jeff hasn’t gotten word of this yet.”

“We’re good, the boys are covering for us.”

I had told them all about my new “girlfriend” back in the hotel room. They requested to meet her, but I kindly mentioned she was busy tonight. I suggested the night after. I’m sure Harry will find this introduction quite amusing. He’d better not fuck anything up.

I hailed a cab, teaching Louis how to do so in the process, and instructed the driver to take us to the best cafe in New York.

"Where are we going?" Louis asked, gazing out the window at the busy city streets. I slapped his arm, glanced at the cab driver, and then pulled out my phone.

American accent, I typed out. I showed it to Louis who only rolled his eyes, but nodded regardless. I smiled and put my phone away.

"Breakfast," I told him. "The best place in town. I promise. You'll love it."

He smiled. "I think I can trust you."

It took a while before we were close enough to the building due to the unreasonable amount of traffic that littered the city streets I knew so well. Reason one as to why the subway is a much better choice than paying a cab driver fifty bucks just to get across town.

“You can let us out here,” I told the driver as he drove straight into the depths of the tourist clusterfuck that is Times Square. I knew we could walk through Times Square faster than he could drive through it with all the traffic, and we were only a block away.

We had to trek our way through the storm of people which would irritate me on any given day. Today, however, it was an experience. I watched as Louis made his way down the sidewalk without a set of eyes singling him out, besides of course the street vendors trying to sell him useless souvenir shit. I could tell he enjoyed the casualness. It was probably quite a break for him, and I smiled to myself knowing he couldn’t have done it without me.

“This is it,” I told him, pointing out a café to our left. I pulled him inside making the bell atop the doorway ring out. The books along the shelves that lined the walls comforted me, and the familiar lights hanging from the ceiling were welcoming.

“This is cute,” Louis said, looking around. We ordered waffles and sat across from each other to eat and I have to admit, it was probably the most relaxing thing I’d experienced since being thrown into the crazy life of Harry Styles.

 

***Harry’s Point of View***

“Damn, you look hot!” grace commented as she walked into the room unannounced.

“Um, thanks,” I said awkwardly. But I knew she was right. I did look hot, and if I was back in my own body I wouldn’t hesitate to flirt with a girl that looked like this.

Then it crossed my mind that I was in Cara Romero’s body and I basically just mentally stated that I would admittedly flirt with Cara Romero.

“I really don’t look that hot though,” I said, more for my own reassurance.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ve been meaning to ask you, have you been doing your makeup differently recently? I don’t know what it is, but it looks different.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I don’t know.”

“It looks great! Can you do mine for tonight?” she asked, grabbing Cara’s makeup bag from the dresser and shoving it in my face. Grace had showed up a good three hours early for no decent reason, and I honestly just think it was because she didn’t want to get ready alone. Females are weird.

“Um, sure?”

She stripped off her dress and changed into a shirt from Cara’s dresser without a single glance of hesitation.

“Wouldn’t want any makeup on the dress. Duh,” she said when she noticed my odd staring.

She sat down on the chair by the mirror and I stood there a moment, clueless, before walking over and taking out the makeup that Cara had tried to teach me how to use. I honestly think the “different” thing about my makeup is the fact that I literally mess it up every single time I put it on, but I wasn’t about to tell Grace that.

I tried my best to replicate the makeup I currently had on without the usual process of washing off and reapplying. I’m pretty sure I fucked it up even worse than I did on my own face, but Grace didn’t seem to think so. She touched it up a bit in the mirror on her own, but other than that she was overjoyed by my work. I smirked, wishing Cara was here so I could rub in her face how I was better at makeup than she was.

I had already showered and put on makeup myself, but we still had three hours, and according to Grace my hair needed severe work.

“It looks fine. It looks the way it always does,” I tried to argue.

“That’s the problem,” she told me, sitting me down in the chair with an all-knowing smile.

I guess I didn’t really care what Grace did as long as Cara didn’t blame me.

But who am I kidding?

AUTHORS NOTE

oops this chapters shit but what can ya do? :p its really just a filler. next chapter will be the party (im thinking) and idk i guess youll have to wait and see c: thanks for reading and being patient and ilysm<3