This is my first story on wattpad. Go easy on me here, okay? I literally have no idea what I'm doing so just bear with me
ALSO I really dislike this story. I'm keeping it up for the sake of other people wanting to read it. I feel like it's not my best. enjoy it, though! (and at the end with the plane and flying technically it made like no real sense time wise)
** This fanfiction is based on real life events, and fictional events. I wanted it to be realistic and yet again have my own twist to it. So, don't be confused if real life events happen, and then something else happens that did not occur in real life**
I ALSO WROTE THIS 2 YEARS AGO WHEN I HIGHLY DISLIKED TAYLOR SWIFT. I DO NOT FEEL THAT WAY TOWARDS HER ANYMORE, AND I DEEPLY REGRET HOW I PORTRAYED HER IN THIS STORY AND IT IS IMMENSELY EMBARRASSING
This fanfiction mostly revolves around an 18 year old girl named Kirsten. Also her friend, Zoe.
Kirsten lives in L.A. and doesn't take much interest in celebreties.
Kirsten has so many dark secrets, thinks she won't tell anyone. Kirsten has trust issues that get in the way of so many things.
"Who's Harry?" You ask? Can't you guess?
~~~~~~
Chapter One
Kirsten's P.O.V.
"Do you think it will hurt?" I asked, brushing my wrist, my blue veins bulging out, feeling the crevices in my skin. I was exploring the idea of getting a small, meaningful tattoo there. Maybe one that says "Hope" or "Faith", or maybe a cross or a treble cleff. Something important. Not a tattoo like an infinity or peace sign, that's so mainstream. Wait, is it too mainstream to say "mainstream" ?
"Well, what would you expect?" My friend Zoe said, breaking my train of thought. I sighed.
"I guess you're right."
"Does your mom know?"
"No!" I said, my eyebrows furrowing. I am legally an adult, I turned 18 last August.
"Just saying...what if your mom gets angry at you or something?" Zoe said, scrolling through pictures on her Instagram newsfeed. My mom is always so careful, so strict! I should be glad she is, I guess. I mean, I wouldn't her to not care about me, right? She justs need to let loose, is all. Besides, I liked the idea of me getting a tattoo without her permission, even if it is small! It would show her that I wasn't afraid to take risks, which most of the time I am.
"I don't care," I finally said.
"Suit yourself," Zoe said raising her eyebrows, not glancing away from her iPod. Zoe is so unique. She has this short hair, that has a chopped kind of look, but it looks great on her. She's always changing her hair color. Right now it was a deep red, and you could see the orange roots peeking out from when she last dyed it. Her eyes are the most beautiful I have ever seen. They are wide, and they almost look teal. With hints of hazel near the pupil. She always has her winged eyeliner so perfectly measured out, same with how she gels and hairsprays her hair. Her style is so laid back, and thats what I love about her. Sometimes I wish I could be her, especially since she's skinny, what compared to my size 10 jeans, boring brown hair, brown eyes, and a thousand freckles on the bridge of my nose. The only thing special about me is a red blotch in my left eye, which I always get asked about. "Want me to come along with you?"
"No, I want to go alone." I said, pushing my chair out from the table. We were having a drink at the cafe inside a little local bookstore. I love going there after school just to cuddle up in a corner and get lost in a fantasy book. Zoe doesn't mind when I drag her along, she likes reading and getting the occasional latte. Yuck, I hate coffee.
Anyways, I just wanted to be alone for once. Not that people cling onto me, it's that I cling onto people. I always need to have someone to lean on, I keep telling myself to grow a back bone.
"I'll catch you later, Zo-EEEEEEEEE." She hates it when I call her that. Her name is pronounced "zohe". She just plugged in her head phones and grinned.
I pushed through the glass doors, and smiled at the old lady behind the counter who always gives me a student discount. I'm a senior in high school, I just want to get out as soon as possible. It was a bright and sunny day in L.A. Did I mention I live there? Don't worry, I'm not a skimpy bleach-blond barbie that prounces around in her size 00 shorts. Just a typical girl with an ACDC muscle tee and scratched Raybans. The sun felt great against my skin, although it's bittersweet, because I burn until I look identical to a lobster.
There was a small tattoo parlor a little ways from Venice beach. I scurried down the busy streets, almost crashing into someone on a bike. I was careful not to have my phone slip out of my pocket.
"Medusa" was the name of the place, the picture plastered on the doors of a woman with snakes coming from her head was always SO welcoming. When I walked in, there were lots of men with furry mustaches and beards with Harley Davidson T shirts and gloves. There was a man creating a tattoo on some guys arm in the other room, but he must have seen me though the glass window. "Just one minute!" He said, doing a double take at me, probably thinking I was 15 or something. When I was younger, people always said I looked older. Now that I'm older, I look younger?
He gave me a concerned look, then hollered "How old are ya, miss?" His country accent immediately annoyed me.
"Eighteen," I said flatly.
"Just gotta sign some papers, then. You got a ID?" I nodded, and then remembered he was working on a tattoo.
"Yes."
"He'll take you to sign your papers, it's just gonna be like, a half an hour or so before someone can take ya." I smiled weakly at all of the people inside. They looked at me like I didn't belong there. That's the typical look I get. Do people even think before they get a tattoo? I take mine into consideration.. I mean, you can never erase it, ever. That's why the idea of getting a tattoo with someone's name makes me cringe. Breakups happen, so do divorces. Sadly. A nice guy with kind eyes called me over to the counter.
"Name?" He said, clicking a pen.
"Kirsten," I muttered.
"Last name?"
"McKinley." Agh, too many K's in my name. I showed him my ID and told him the information needed.
"You ran this by your parents, right?" I swallowed. I only had a mom. The word "parents" made my heart ache, but I ignored his remark.
"Is it required?"
"No," he said smiling. "Don't worry, my lips are sealed." I grinned and signed my name at the bottom of the paper, and then sat down in one of the chairs. I tipped my glasses over my eyes and watched everyone in the room without turning my head. Kindof like a spy, in a way, I thought. Having glasses like the mask of Iron Man. Having all of these things on the screen, and someone speaking to you in a lttle voice. Imagining is fun. I heard the bells jingle on the door, and the wind made my hair blow. I had to set my phone down and fix it. My hair always has to be perfect. Nothing scruffed up, no dandruff flakes in sight. I feel if my hair isn't perfect, I can't be taken seriously. Like if someone's hair for example had a strand on the wrong side of their head, or a piece of hair in front of their face, I would start to giggle.
Anyways, I felt someone sit down next to me. I didn't even glance at them, and I don't know why. I didn't want them to think I acknowledged their existance. Why do I think that way?
Oh well, gave in and glanced. But before I could discreetly turn my head, whomever it was leaned over and whispered "This your first tattoo?" I nearly jumped. I get scared so easily. But, who would have a British Accent in L.A.?
I looked up, and it was a very tall guy. He couldn't be any older than I was. He was wearing an orange beanie, and a distressed Ramones' muscle tee. Nearly identical to mine. I raised my sunglasses to my head, which pushed some of my hair back behind my ears. I took a minute to look at him. I always do that with people, I study how they look and their features and I'm not that secretive about it. He had various tattoos, the one that I found interesting was the bird cage, which I could see though the arm hole of this shirt. He sat there with a smug grin, like it was normal. He had curly brown hair, which swooped over his beanie. I was paying much more attention to his eyes, though.
They were a brilliant green, with specks of gold near the outer circle. Sort of similar to Zoe's, except hers were a little darker and mysterious. His were warm and inviting. Like a green meadow with marigold's popping up. And they twinkled, to make it better. The sun was facing him, so his eyes were even brighter. He started to cringe, and then put on his sun glasses. Raybans, just like mine. Except his looked brand new.
"Yeah, yes," I sputtered. Stay cool, I thought. "But it's not yours, I'm assuming." I said looking away, trying to act edgy. Then I remembered I hated how my profile looked from that side and turned back again. He chuckled, which made me smile. He held out his hand and smiled at me. Sort of a half smile.
"Harry."
