About (Harry Styles)

20.

And I know that it's feasible that he could've changed his number. 

"Elaine?" 

The voice sounds from the doorway and standing between it is my boss, Marco's uncle.  He looks frantic, overwrought with stress.

"Mr. Miller," I rise from my chair.  "What are you still doing here?"

"I'd ask you the same question but there's no time for that."  His words are rushed, and his eyes are wide with fear as he speaks. "There's a missing golf kart and I checked the system and somebody is still out there.  I've looked everywhere.  Can't find anybody.  I think they're still outside somewhere.  Can you come with me and help me find them?"

Without thinking, I nod. Adrenaline surges through my blood as I get up to follow him outside. We search the grounds in vain as we are unsuccessful at finding the missing person.  My boss, who has the only flashlight available, keeps complaining about something with having trackers in the karts.

About twenty minutes in, Mr. Miller suggests that we split up, thinking that we'd find the person faster if we do. 

I agree...stupidly. 

This is the part where one of us gets killed.  If this was a horror movie, that is.

He takes the flashlight, and I'm left to rely on my phone.   Anxiety washes over me as I read the number that represents my battery life.

Perfect. Only 10 percent left.

Who the hell is this person anyway? 

Why are they even out here at this time of day? 

Did they fall asleep while playing golf?

I wouldn't be surprised.  Even the mention of the word makes me yawn.

As I'm walking towards the end of the green, I spot the missing golf kart yards from where I am.  I rush over, finding only a Nike golf bag with the clubs.  The key to the kart is missing meaning that the person must be in the vicinity.

From behind me, I hear the sound of someone's phone ringing from a distance.  I race towards the sound, seeing nobody in sight as my feet reaches the small lake of the country club.

I sigh in defeat. 

For a brief moment, I admire the scenery before me.  The full moon reflects onto the still body of water, producing an iridescent glow upon the lake.

It's peaceful.  It sets my mind at ease.  Just looking at it almost drowns me for a wistful moment when a voice drags me back out. 

"You found me," a deep sound calls.

Turning around, my eyes set on the man I couldn't rid myself of for the past few days.

No. Fucking. Way.

Harry Styles.

His intent gaze is playful, a small grin playing on his lip as he waves me forward.  I squint my eyes in a wary suspicion.  He rolls his eyes as he concludes that I'm not going to move an inch from where I'm standing.  I wasn't.  Not until he explains himself.  

The well dressed celebrity falls backwards onto the grass.  He moves his hands behind his head to act like a pillow. 

So he was the person we had to find. No wonder why Mr. Miller was under more stress than usual.

"Why do you sell bracelets when you have a job at the country club?"  He asks nonchalantly, and I cannot believe I'm hearing this right now.

"You're kidding me, right?"  I say sternly. I can tell he caught onto my tone when he sits himself up, an apologetic look on his face.  "We have to go back.  This isn't an 'All About Elaine' session, alright?  Plus, you're making me work off payroll."

"Sorry," he raises his hands as if to surrender to me.  "I'm just curious."

His phone rings again, he glances at the glowing screen for barely a moment, shuts it off and returns it back into his pocket.

"Who's calling you?" I ask, naturally.

"Nobody."

"It obviously wasn't nobody," I remark under my breath.

"Can we just stay here a little longer?"  He asks, surprising me. 

"Why?  Are you running from the police?"

He shrugs and pouts his lips.   "Something like that."

Something in me tells me that I should stay with him.  I know that it's not the smartest thing to do.  But for some strange reason, I don't want to leave him alone either.

"It's a hobby, I guess," I answer.

"What?"

I draw in a long breath, not understanding why I am agreeing to his request.  Taking a few steps forward, I approach the space next to him.  Once I'm down on the ground, I pull my knees to my chest, and keep my eyes out onto the bewitching yet haunting lake.

"You asked me why I sell bracelets," I remind him.  "It's a hobby of mine."

"A hobby?"

"Yeah," I say.  He doesn't look convinced. 

"Are you struggling with finances?"

"No!  No, it's nothing like that.  Why would you think that?"

"Well, for one, you take the bus.  You could be living under a bridge for all I know," he over-exaggerates with various hand motions.

"It's not that."

"Then tell me the real reason," the persistent singer presses.

"I just did," I insist, but from the look in his eyes, I know he's not budging from his assumption that I'm lying about my answer.  And he has right to. "Fine. If you really want to know, it's because of my dad. Umm .. I'm trying to find him. He and I used to sell bracelets together at the farmer's market before he left. Long story short, my parents divorced and I never saw him again. It's been twelve years and not even one phone call."

"I'm sorry."  The cliche reply.

"Don't be. It's not your fault."  The obvious response.

"I know," he nods, copying my position as he pulls in his long legs into his chest.   "But I'm not sorry for you.  I'm sorry for him."

I chuckle bitterly. "He had the better end of the deal to be honest.  He finally got the freedom to do whatever he wanted.  Sleep with whoever he wanted.  Not having to carry the burden of feeding another mouth.  It's all in his favor.  There's no need to be sorry for him."

"I don't think that's the mind of a father, Elaine," his sincere eyes express an unquestionable legitimacy as he answers.   "He missed out on a lot of things."

I shake my head, understanding where he's coming from.  But he doesn't understand what it's like to be in my place.  Of being abandoned. 

He has it all.  He will never understand how I feel.

"Missed out?"  I scoff gruffly.  "On what?"

His eyes never part from mine as his green irises shift back and forth, studying me, realizing the bitterness that has dug deep itself in me.

Slowly and softly, almost in a delicate whisper, he answers, "On watching his own daughter grow up to be a brave, brilliant, and beautiful woman."

a/n:

can I have a Harry please? 

No, okay, cool.

Early update though! I've just cooked up some inspiration and this came out.  Gotta work on my project now. ugh.  Semester's almost over!  So more writing! Yay!