mantra || h.s

:: 7 ::

“Is she?”

“Yeah. She is. Which obviously makes me feel like an arse, but I can’t help it, y’know? Can’t force feelings, especially feelings that aren't there.”

“How long have you been with her?”

“Erm—we started back way before the boys and I went on our Where We Are tour, then we split before I left, and it just started back since we got home. S’just one of those things that’s kind of obligatory.”

“You sound unhappy, Harry.”

“I’m not really unhappy, exactly…cause, like, every other aspect of my life is good, y’know? Just the love life part sucks.”

“Then end things…”

“It’s not that simple, love.” He sounded quite defeated which was unsettling, if I’m being honest. “Wish it was.”

“Then make it simple, mate. You’re Harry Styles, for fück’s sake. Break up with the girl.” His green eyes bore into mine like he wanted so badly to do what I was saying. “Plus, she’s bloody awful.” This got him to laugh, but he still shook his head.

“If only I could.” There was a moment and I know he felt it. I know he did. It was like, we both wanted to say something so badly but we just…couldn’t. But it was gone in a heartbeat and good ole’ lighthearted Harry had returned. “So. Enough about me. Tell me about you.”

“You know about me.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Just because I shagged you, doesn’t mean I know you, love. But unlike some thing’s in my life, that can change. So again, enlighten me.”

“Just got out of rehab.”

“I know.”

“Okay…I’m fücked up.”

“No you’re not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

“Since you seem to be the expert on me, why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you already know, Styles.”

He thought for a moment before nodding. “You’re Lucy Robinson. Daughter of Ren and Matilda Robinson. Twenty years old. Your eyes are absolutely beautiful. Your smile has the ability to light up a room. You’re strong and inspiring, but I honestly don’t think you know that. You’re a model—a beautiful one, at that—but I think you already know that. People see you impossibly wrong. They don’t see how truly amazing you are. I think you’re a bit scared of who they think you are. I think that girl—who is not you—has at some times taken you over and gotten you into trouble, but all you need to do is locate the real you. I mean, I already have and I think you’re quite lovely. Oh, and you have completely stopped my heart a number of times in the past twelve hours.” The smile had left my face as I stared at the ridiculously handsome pop star only a foot or two away from me. His gaze was unwavering and the soft smile on his pink lips was captivating and I honestly couldn’t find words suitable enough to respond.

“Well then…” I finally breathed, trying to remain cool and collected. 

“How’s that for a definition of you, spoken from someone who is not you?”

“I should go.”

“Wait…why—hey, stop…” He quickly stood in the doorway, hands securely gripping my arms and preventing me from getting any further away. “I didn’t…I don’t want you to go, Lucy. Don’t go.” I laughed and shook my head. 

“Your Kardashian wouldn’t like my current thought process…” It took him a second to understand the meaning behind my words and then he chuckled.

“She’s not mine.”

“The media begs to differ…”

“I don’t want her.”

“Then what do you want, Harry?”

“Something better.” He relaxed a little, but his hands remained encircled around my wrists. “I want…late night phone calls and pointless, cheesy text messages. I want to come home to someone. I want to cook for someone who isn’t Niall or Zayn or Lou or Liam. I want to tell someone that I love them. I want something real. I don’t want that…that isn’t real. Not in the slightest bit.” I gulped again and this time I know he heard it because he took his bottom lip in between his teeth, which happened to be possibly the most attractive thing I’d ever seen, and his eyes searched mine.

“I really do have to go…” I whispered and he groaned.

“Why? Is it what I said? I really didn’t mean to—”

“I have a shoot in Moorgate at eleven.” His eyes grew wide and he stepped back quickly.

“Fück! Shit, I completely forgot! I have rehearsals at eleven!” I laughed and went back to grab my purse. 

“See? We both have to leave.” I began towards the front door and I heard him shuffling around and soon enough we were both at our cars and he was pulling me into his chest.

“I’ll call you?” He asked and I nodded.

“You better.”

“Promise you’ll answer?” His childish grin was so fücking cute.

“Cross my heart, pop star.” Before I knew it, his lips were on my cheek, dangerously close to my mouth and then, just like that, he was pulling away and sending me a wink before we climbed into our vehicles. I pulled out first, while he followed and at the next stop light, we turned, driving our separate ways.