Bad Intentions ↠ h.s.

Chapter One

-Harry-

I sit in the drivers seat of my sleek, coal colored car and waited for Ashley, as I always end up doing. She always takes forever when she's getting ready, especially with her hair. I understand that she takes a lot of pride in her looks, and I honestly am happy about that, but sometimes I wish that she didn't take this much pride in it. This is irritating. There are no other words I can use to describe it.

I hear my phone go off. It's probably Niall again, calling to tell me about some stupid bet he won against Zayn at some bar fight. When will he realize that I dont care? I have real things to worry about; things bigger than a dumb bet about a fantasy football team or fighting over girls? Probably never, because it takes Niall decades to take a hint. He's not dumb; he's just naturally himself.

After a while, the ringing subsides and I'm once more in the perfect silence of my stuffy car. My eyes trail over to the papers on the passenger's seat beside me. The words Arabella Marie Styles are printed very neatly on the bottom of one of the sheets in the social workers delicate, girlie handwriting. Arabella. I repeat the name offer over and over again in my head, trying to make my mind familiar with the pretty, German name in my head. Ive never heard the name before in my life, not before I saw her file. Not before I saw that sweet little face staring up at me with Arabella Marie printed underneath it in fading ink.

"Arabella Marie Styles," I say for the first time out loud. It sounds strange. "Arabella Marie Styles."

Her name is so sweet, so pure... I just love to hear her name. To think that almost everyday, in less than two hours, I will get the pleasure to not only hear her name but see the face that it belongs to.

"Harry," Ashley's loud voice suddenly hisses, breaking my out of my thoughts centering around our soon-to-be-daughter. She's at the door, hip popped out and arms crossed over her chest. That sour look is on her face, as always. She's always bitter.

"Hi, honey," I smile at her to the best of my abilities, reaching over the console to grab the papers off of the seat. I neatly place them on the back seat, making sure the paper clip keeps them together in order. Ashley slips in and nods at me, not saying anything. I sigh, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. My knuckles start to turn white, I'm gripping it so tightly out of the anxiety coursing through me.

She suddenly clears her throat, "Thanks for waiting. I know it's very inconvenient."

"No problem," I reply. "I had nothing else to do..."

"So, when are you going to go pick her up?" she asks, referring to Arabella. I cant help the smile that appears on my face when I think of how close we are to getting our little girl. The social worker, Ms. Sanders, said that we can come and get her today at four. Liam said he'd come with me, which I am so grateful for because I don't want Arabella's first impression of her new home and new family to be Ashley's lifeless, bitter personality.

Then again, maybe Ashley will be better towards Arabella. She is a child after all, and not even Ashley is hatefilled enough to be that way towards a child.

"Four o'clock," I state. Ashley says nothing in response, she just nods again. I place the key in the ignition and the engine hums to life.

She slowly tugs on the seat belt, gliding it against her delicate small frame. She throws her head back almost immediately after shutting the car door. She's careful not to disturb her newly trimmed and curled hair, unlike its usual form, as she lightly brushes it against the car seat head rest.

"Are you excited?" I question in complete joy, as she bobs her head up and down frantically. "This child will be the death of me."

"Me too," she replies, sighing as she lifts her loose curls into a messy bun. "I'll be dead by tomorrow from it."