"Have a good day at school, okay? Good luck on your history test!" I said, and then cringed; I was all too aware of how mom-ish I had become.
She cringed, too, and muttered a weak goodbye before the door shut behind her and she bound to school. Annabelle was my little angel, the one thing I'd do anything for; and clearly, I've proved it. At an early age I realized that I had to take care of my young and confused sister because my father wasn't reliable enough — I don't even know how he raised me for the first thirteen years before it got really bad.
I grabbed my uniform and shoved it in my purse before walking out of the apartment, locking the door, and starting my day. I walked down the hall and towards the elevator and, glancing at my phone, I checked my emails and responded to texts. The bell dinged, and I started towards the garage, hopped in my car, and was off to work.
My boss, Joe, was manning the blender when I walked in, and I took the opportunity of an unknown arrival to slip into the bathroom to change. I had to wear an deep plum barista apron over a black fitted shirt and a visor with the café logo on the top. When I was done, I walked to the counter part of the café and mumbled my daily "hello" to Joe.
"What, are you hung over?" He questioned, and then smirked. "Or were you stuck at the bar late last night?"
I groaned, "I worked late and barely got any sleep."
"Well wake up or you're fired."
I laughed. Joe wouldn't harm a fly, let alone my temporary career. He was a nice guy who I got along with great, which was good considering he was the manager and he never got on my back if I was late a few minutes or had to take too long of a break to pick Annabelle up from school if she was feeling sick. "Will do."
I cleaned a few tables and made a few drinks before it was pretty deserted in the café, and all there was to do involved cleaning out the blenders and washing the windows. It was only Joe and I until around three, when Katie comes in to replace me today. My shift at the bar started at seven, so I had a few hours to myself, and I found myself daydreaming of more sleep.
"Hello?" I heard a masculine voice ask, and I looked up to see a customer at the counter. I quickly apologized and asked for his order, and he answered with a "Black coffee."
Joe made the drink, and I examined the customer. He was fairly tall with a hoodie on and jeans, and I momentarily wondered if he was insane. A hoodie and jeans in May in California? It was like a death wish for burning alive. As I gave him a once-over, I caught his gaze, and he smirked, noticing that I was checking him out. I smiled, embarrassed, and inwardly laughed.
"What's your name?" He asked me suddenly, and I was exposed to his British accent.
"Ariana," I said, and gave him a stronger smile than my previously weak one. "And yours?"
He held his hand out, and the movement made his hood slide off his head a little, and I was suddenly aware of his gorgeous curly hair and subject to his bright white grin. "Harry."
I knew that name, and I knew that face — from where, I have no idea, so I asked: "Have we met before?"
"I can't say that we have," He offered, with a look on his face that told me he was amused. I was just about to insist that we had met before, or something, because of how familiar he looked, but Joe called out his order at the other end of the counter, and Harry waved and went to go grab it. I watched him walk over to a two person table and sit down alone, right beside the window to look out of it.
I was fazed, standing there and wondering how I knew him. I watched him get out his phone and text feverishly to someone, but looked away when I accepted that we had never met before, and this was a bad case of de'ja vu. After a few more minutes of taking orders, the café was deserted all except Harry, and I went over to check on him.
"How are you doing?" I questioned, and then added: "With your drink, I mean."
"What, you don't want to know how I'm actually doing?" Harry smiled at me, a big goofy smile, and I laughed.
"How are you actually doing?" I asked with a laugh.
He chuckled as well. "I'm okay," Hesitating, he flipped over the newspaper he had been reading, exposing the cover. Some blonde guy that looked pissed off was plastered on the cover, and Harry sighed and mumbled, "Except this is madness."
I don't think I was meant to hear that, but I did, and I looked further into the picture. The tabloid featured beautiful blue eyes on this man, but they were enraged rather than calm, and I frowned. Glancing upward, I looked at the title, and saw the name Niall Horan and I scoffed. He was everywhere, infamously a bad boy who was always causing trouble, probably expecting special treatment because of his fame.
His fame. He was in a band, One Direction, that just about every teenage girl cried over on a daily —
"You're Harry Styles," I said automatically, as if something in my brain finally clicked. Harry looked up at me and gave me a tiny smile.
"Why, yes I am," He said, and the goofy smile returned. "Took you long enough to figure it out."
Before I could answer, the door opened, and in walked another hooded customer. Harry turned around as well and I saw the man walk over to us, smiling at Harry, and I suddenly began realizing who it was. It was another one of them —
"And who is this lovely lady?" The new man asked, and fake-bowed to me. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
I laughed at the formality, and answered: "Ariana. And you are?"
He flashed me his million dollar smile and answered, "Liam."
"Isn't she just a heart breaker?" Harry joked, and then motioned for Liam to sit down. Then, to me, he smiled and said, "And why haven't I ever seen you before?"
I shrugged, and said before thinking, "I'm too busy taking care of my sister."
His brow furrowed, and I instantly asked myself why I ruined my chances of seeming like a normal twenty year old girl in the matter of seconds. Before he could ask what I meant, Liam noticed my expression harden and cut in to ask for an iced coffee, and I glanced at him, feeling more than thankful.
I spun around and made the drink, taking as long as possible in the hopes that when I got back, they had turned the conversation to something else and would ignore me. I don't need two of the most famous people in the US and UK to be wondering what the hell is wrong with me. Upon returning, I handed Liam the drink and spun on my heel to leave quickly, but Harry called my name.
I turned around hesitantly and he asked, "Would you sit with us for a moment?"
I glanced around the store. It was dead, and Joe was in the back, so I took it as an opportunity to pull over a chair and slide into it carefully, confused about what they wanted to say. Finally, Liam smiled at me kindly and told me, "We were wondering if we could get some advice."
Advice? "Um, sure. Shoot."
Harry glanced at Liam, and Liam further explained: "We have this friend, who has been making a bad name for himself recently," I instantly knew he was talking about Niall — about the article — and nodded. "We have tried talking to him, holding an intervention, and Zayn even punched him in the gut before."
Harry continued, "And, from a girls perspective, what do you think we should do? To make him calm down, at least, and turn into his old self, I mean."
Am I really being the one held responsible for a band's future? I wanted to laugh at the thought, but slowly asked, "A girl's perspective?"
Liam's cheeks tinted rose. "Girls are supposed to be good at advice."
I actually did laugh this time, and shook my head, brow furrowing. Honestly, I wasn't in any position to be giving advice to other people — I didn't know these boys personally. I sighed, thought about it for a second, and even contemplated saying 'Sorry, I can't help you', and walk away. But instead, I gave them an answer.
"Have you tried finding someone who means a lot to him to tell him he has to stop?" I asked slowly, and then clarified: "Maybe not a parent, but just someone who he really cares about. I think if reality hit him in the face, and he was about to lose someone he loved, he would stop."
The boys instantly shared a look, and before they could tell me what the look was about, Joe walked out of the back and called: "Ariana!" and I had to scramble up from my seat and mumble a lame goodbye. A few customers had trickled in that I didn't even notice, and I rushed to get their orders in and made, all while letting Joe glare at the back of my head. Oddly enough, while I was working, I couldn't stop thinking about Harry and Liam, and what they were going to do.
I just hoped that for the sake of every girl in the universe, I didn't just make the band break up. When I was done making the drinks, I looked back over to the table where Harry and Liam had been sitting at, and it was empty, with a twenty dollar bill lying on the table with a piece of paper. I glanced around and saw no trace of them ever being here other than what was left on the table, and went over to grab the money.
Underneath the money was a ripped piece of paper off of a newspaper with a scribble that said See you soon. H & L before I just blinked at the paper, wondering if that had even happened. I stuffed it in my pocket before the door opened again, and I got up to take the customer's order.
~*~
By the time nine thirty PM rolled around, I was tired of being hit on by slurring drunk men, and counting the nanoseconds until my shift at the bar was over. I hadn't seen Harry or Liam since yesterday afternoon, and was beginning to think I'd never see them again. Maybe I was hallucinating the entire thing — maybe I had just listened to Annabelle's music one too many times. I brought out a round of shots for a table, where men and women in their thirties gathered, screaming when they saw me approach them with their drinks.
"You're fabulous, you know that?" Some lady slurred to me, and then took a shot that I had just placed on the table. "A real fabulous girl."
I smiled politely and walked away, tending to the other tables that wished for another beer or whiskey and a coke. Only five minutes had gone by before I felt someone grab my arm, and I whipped around to tell the gross old man to lay off, before I was met with a familiar face.
"Harry?" I questioned, and then slapped his arm. "I just about punched you in the face!"
He chuckled, something I could barely hear in the crowded bar, and motioned for me to keep moving. He followed me to the back, where it was quieter and I was actually able to hear him. Harry pointed his thumb behind him and I looked over his shoulder to see the man we had been talking about just yesterday — Niall Horan, standing there looking miserable at the bar, waiting for a drink.
His beautiful blonde hair was better looking than it was in the magazines and tabloids when he looked like he was going to punch someone, but his eyes looked just as cold as they had then. He had a muscular build and chiseled features, enough to make a girl swoon — if she hadn't known how much of an asshole he was. I forced my gaze off of him and met Harry's, who was watching me with a knowing look on his face.
"So, remember earlier, when you said we needed someone close to Niall to make him realize he's fucking up?" Harry questioned slowly.
I nodded. "Yes...and that has to do with me why?"
Quickly and all at once, he said: "Because we need you to get close to him."
I paused for a second and took this in. They wanted me to do it? No way! When I gave that advice, I meant someone who was already close to him, not some basic girl off the street up against a teenage heartthrob! I was shaking my head before I even said anything, and Harry quickly came to his defense.
"Listen, you gave us the idea!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air as if to say 'don't look at me!' "We will do anything. Pay you anything, buy you anything, get you anything."
I shook my head still. "I can't. I have a younger sister to take care of! I can't spend my days chasing after some famous guy who is too much of an asshole to talk to me once I tell him I just want to be his new best friend! Besides, you don't even know me. I could be a psycho killer that tricked you into this! Ever think of that?"
He nodded. "We did. Why do you think it took us this long to contact you again? We had our private investigator do a background check."
I blushed, realizing what he probably read in that background check. Ariana Taylor: whose mother died and father was in prison, taking care of her younger sister and putting her through school. A pathetic twenty year old that is paying her rent just barely from two shitty paying jobs, and no time to have a social life. I didn't meet Harry's gaze, but hit him in the arm for looking at my file. He didn't even flinch.
"I saw that you have family in Florida, yeah?" Harry inquired, his voice soft and understanding. "We can help you get to them."
Ever since I can remember, I've been struggling to take care of Annabelle. The only family I have left is in Florida, smack dab across the country from me. It was thousands of dollars to go fly there without nearly enough of my belongings, and thousands more to bring everything we have. I have been dreaming over the idea that one day, when I save up enough money, we will be able to go live with them.
The family is my aunt Rachel and her husband, Evan, who we talk to almost every day. They send money when they can, but they're in their forties and own a small business that keeps them supported without much left over. They live a happy life in Florida together, and would love for us to come join them — except neither of us have the money to make the move. I thought about aunt Rachel and Evan when Harry said this, and my heart swelled.
"You can't just look at my file," I mumbled lamely, but then met his awaiting gaze and sighed, "I'll try. But I can't promise that he'll even give me the time of day."
All at once, I was enveloped in Harry Styles' arms, being given a bear hug by the shaggy haired boy before he let me go to show me his beaming smile. His eyes looked hopeful, as did his face, and I wished more than anything that I could help him out with this, without tearing my hair out if Niall is as rude as he seems to be from the tabloids.
"You're our last chance," He said, and I promised myself to try my hardest.
"Go back to the table. I'll be over in a few minutes."
He followed my orders, and I took a deep breath. I would be trying to con Niall Horan into caring about me enough to listen to me, and stop his bad boy behavior to turn back to the way he was. I took a deep breath and fixed my straight brown hair, which I had left down tonight. My shift was over in fifteen minutes, but I knew I had to approach him now, before he was as drunk as the other scum bags in this bar.
He was sitting with his friends at a table now, and had two empty beers on the table beside him. His blue eyes blazed with annoyance, and I flinched at how cold they were. For a second, I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into in the last fifteen minutes, but I pushed the nerves away and told myself I could do it.
"Hi, boys," I greeted when I walked up to the table. Harry, Liam, Niall, Zayn, and Louis were all sitting there, and all their eyes snapped up to me. "What can I get you?"
I felt a pair of eyes on me while I rounded the table, getting everyone's order until I finally turned to the culprit, and saw Niall staring at me. His expressions hadn't softened since I saw him first walk in the bar, and I held myself back from shying away from his cold looking features. Finally, he said he wanted another beer, and then he started looking around at other girls.
I slid a quick glance at Harry, fleeting and not knowing quite what to do, and he just raised his eyebrows. I nodded and went to the bar, put the orders in, and came back a few minutes later with the drinks. When I returned, I gave everyone their drinks and lingered there for a second, wondering if I should say anything, before I decided against it.
My shift ended five minutes later, and I found Harry to tell him I was leaving for the night, and he asked for my number to tell me where Niall would be tomorrow, planning on me to 'run into him'. I agreed, still curious as to why I agreed to this entire ordeal in the first place, and then left the bar, looking for Niall but not finding him.
I walked outside and was greeted with a slap of the cold night air and dark skies, and stood there for a moment, letting myself adjust while I was only in leggings and my work two-sizes-too-tight shirt. I faintly smelled cigarette smoke and crumpled my nose, beginning to turn away from it and towards my car when I ran into a beer belly.
"Hey baby," A slurred voice said. "You wanna head to my place?"
I made a noise resembling disgust and shook my head. "No thank you. Move."
He didn't budge. I tried moving away from him, but he grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me in the opposite direction. His grip was loose because of his drunkenness, and I was able to slide out; however, it didn't stop him from growling, "C'mon, slut, don't you want to have some fun?"
He was reaching for me again, but before I could do anything in retaliation, a fist flashed into his face, and he stumbled backwards before mumbling nonsense and walking in the opposite direction. I blinked up at who had punched him, and was met with the gaze of none other than Niall Horan. Of course, the frozen blue orbs were staring right into my emerald eyes, like he had nothing in the world to be afraid of.
Nialls' expression was unreadable, but his knuckles were still in a fist by his side. I tore away from his gaze and my eyes flashed down to his hand, seeing traces of blood — his or the drunk man's, I'm not sure — and went to grab it to assess the damage. Niall took a step back, and glancing at his hand himself before wiping it off on the back of his jeans.
"Thank you," I breathed, and then he flicked a cigarette onto the pavement, stepped on it, and walked back inside the bar. What had I gotten myself into?
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a/n: I hope you guys enjoy the extension to this! I still need a cover made and would appreciate it if one of you messaged me one! :)