September 9 2021, San Antonio
ALLIAH HAD NEVER BEEN MORE NERVOUS IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. So her solution? Play music.
Alliah had a playlist for every ocassion. The most specific of moods had playlists. Something to bake with? Playlist. In the shower and want to do a concert? Playlist. So nervous you're about to puke in your dressing room? Playlist.
Music was the best form of escapism, in Alliah's opinion. If she needed to distract herself, she'd just focus on the music, and dissect the wide variety of instruments utilized to make it.
Humming along to the melody of the song, Bubblegum Bitch, Alliah managed to calm her racing heart. Just slightly.
And then a knock on the door sent her heart into a frantic speed once again. "Come in!" Alliah called.
The door opened, and a head of messy brown hair peaked through the opening. A small smile graced Harry's features. "Hi, sorry. Got a little sick of Mitch and Sarah being infuriatingly adorable. 'S it okay if I hang out here?"
Alliah laughed. "Yeah, yeah, take a seat wherever. I totally get being the third-wheel. That's me most of the time."
Harry grinned, and his dimples started to appear.
Holy shit, his dimples. They're adorable.
"Your love life is as miserable as mine?"
"Seeing as I am incredibly single, I'd assume so," Alliah joked. They laughed a little, before an awkward silence fell over them.
Comfortable silence was definitely not overrated. Alliah would kill for a comfortable silence.
Harry's brow furrowed suddenly. He tilted his head to the side. "Is- Is that song one of Zayn's songs?"
Alliah's face paled as she listened to the music playing from her phone. The previous song had ended and now it was playing Sour Diesel.
Alliah scrambled, stumbling to her feet and making her way to the desk across from her, snatching her phone and skipping to the next song. Pillowtalk.
The universe really hated her.
She skipped to the next song, and the universe finally took pity on her and Mitski started echoing through the room.
Alliah coughed loudly, "Nope, no Zayn. This is Mitski."
Harry frowned. "I just saw you skip several songs-"
"It's Mitski!" Alliah interrupted him, her voice a little too loud and too high-pitched. "It-It's Mitski," She repeated, clearing her throat and allowing her voice to return to its regular pitch. "I think you've had one too many special brownies, Styles, if you think Mitski is Zayn."
Harry stared at Alliah for two seconds more, before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.
After a brief moment, Alliah joined into his raucous laughter. He had the kind of light, joyful laugh that made it impossible not to join in.
"Special brownies? That's seriously- Wow, Alliah, I expected a better excuse from you."
Alliah snickered. "I dunno, it was the first thing to came to mind."
"Why was weed the first thing that came to your mind-" Harry managed to get out between laughter. "No, never mind, I don't want to know."
They laughed together, bonding over a moment of uncomfortable actions. If that wasn't friendship, then what was?
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alliahmendoza san antonio, you were amazing! ps. harry, that flag... lowkey kinda gay 👀
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3h reply
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-> alliahmendoza aghhh, i wanna, but i don't wanna, 'cause i always end up crying when i play it.
"HOLD ON, YOU'VE NEVER WATCHED HEATHERS?" Alliah mock-gasped. Harry shook his head. "You uncultured swine!"
Harry laughed. "I have been called several names, but never a- what did you say? An 'uncultured swine'."
Something about the fact that Harry had been called names made Alliah uneasy. The man before her was an angel, the sweetest and kindest human being to ever walk this earth. Who was capable of being mean to him?
Alliah had the strong urge to grab him and shove him into a box where he could be safe and protected from the cruelty of the world.
Alliah shook her head as she tutted. "Harry, Harry, Harry! Heathers is an incredible movie. A little sick and twisted, but amazing nonetheless."
Something about Heathers had captured Alliah's interest since the first time she watched it. It was a dark plotline, but in the end it spoke the truth about the harsh reality of peer pressure.
Having been a depressed, anxiety-ridden teenager her first time watching, something about Heathers had just set something off in Alliah. An understanding of the dark road you could go down as a teenager.
How easy it was to lose a sense of identity, your moral compass, unless you made sure you knew who you were before someone told you it. Before someone fed you a lie of who you should be, and you followed along.
"We should watch it together then," Harry suggested. "We'll make a night out of it."
"Definitely," Alliah agreed. She gasped. "We can watch Dirty Dancing as well."
Harry groaned as she reminded him. "I cannot believe you haven't watched Dirty Dancing, Ali."
Ali. Alliah had been called that nickname numerous time in her past, but it had never sounded as sweet as when Harry said it.
A knock sounded on the door. Alliah stood up, answering the door as she scoffed. "I watched it, it was just a really long time ago!"
Anya stood there, tapping her foot impatiently. "Alliah! You're fifteen minutes late. You should be in your dressing room by now."
Alliah grabbed her phone from her back pocket and glanced at the time. "Oh sh- sorry, I- we got a little sidetracked."
"Well, get back on track and get your ass in that dressing room, now!" Anya chided Alliah.
"I will!" Alliah promised as Anya walked away. Alliah turned towards Harry, giving him an apologetic look. "I gotta go now."
"We'll talk more later about our mutual lack of culture, yeah? I don't wanna piss Anya off anymore. She scares me."
"Anya's a secret softie, but you should be scared of her," Alliah said. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but Alliah interrupted him. "I know, I know, two contradictory things. Shut it."
Harry chuckled. "Have fun in your chair! See ya."
"Bye, Harry," Alliah waved him goodbye, shutting the door behind her and practically running to her dressing room, not wanting to make Anya more angry.
As she entered her dressing room, she was immediately forced into a chair, and her hairstylist, Camila, got to work. "You're late."
"Sorry, I got a little distracted," Alliah sighed.
Camila raised an eyebrow. "Hm, is that so? Did you get distracted by a guy?"
Alliah laughed. "Yeah, but it's not what you think. Harry and I- we're just talking, as friends, and that's all it is. Nothing more."
"That's what I used to say, and then two years later, bada-bing bada-boom, I had a ring on my finger and he's worshipping the ground I walk on," Camila replied casually. She separated my hair and expertly clipped the spare to the top of my head. "Never say never."
"It's Harry, he's not interested in some fangirl who got lucky enough to open for him," Alliah protested, waving her hands around frantically. "I doubt he even wants to be friends with me."
Camila released the hair she'd been curling, and it bounced into place perfectly. "Alliah, it's Harry Styles. There's no one he wouldn't be friends with. A walking angel, I swear."
Alliah inhaled deeply. "Let's not talk about it anymore. How's Madison's internship going?"
Madison was Camila's sixteen-year-old daughter. Camila was a young mother of 32, she'd gotten pregnant as a teenager and raised Madison mostly by herself. Alliah wasn't sure what happened with the father exactly, all she knew was that he wasn't in the picture.
Camila had married the love of her life four years ago, after two years of dating.
Alliah had had the incredible pleasure to watch Camila go from a single mother, brave enough to handle everything by herself, to a married mother, strong enough to let someone else into the family she'd created.
No one made Camila more happy than her husband, Alex and Madison. Her family was everything to her, and Alliah aspired to be like Camila one day.
"Madison hates the hours, obviously. The girl can't wake up earlier than ten or she throws a fit, but the work- oh, she loves her work. Every day, she comes back after being away for six hours, and all she can talk about is what she did at work."
Alliah laughs, gettting comfortable in her chair, ready to listen to Camila talk about her family in such a loving way.
a/n: i swear we're getting to the good part.