PATCHWORK- HARRY STYLES AU

Chp:01

51 Sundays.

I had been in the same run down diner in downtown New York for 51 Sundays in a row.

I was always in the same corner, in the same red tattered booth, and in the same seat. I would never change it up. This booth was our thing, it held sentimental value.

If he ever came back, he knew this is where I would be, no questioned about it.

"Sweet tea Lola?" Karla asked as she grabbed her note pad out from her blush pink apron that was covered in stains from what I presume was the lunchtime rush.

Karla had been here with me every Sunday. She was the head waitress at 'Micks' diner ever since I had first found the hidden gem which was this diner 3 years ago. Looking in from the outside the diner didn't look to be all that. The outside could do with a clean up and rebranded as it looked like the outside hadn't been touched since the late 80's. It's retro red sign with lights that flickered on and off gave it a late Hollywood vibe.

The inside was where soo the charm was. Checkered board floors and the walls were covered in old vinyl records and posters of late artist such as Elvis Presley and Martin Gaye. Red booth and steel table and chairs littered the space and in the middle was the counter in an oval shape.

It wasn't much but it had a homely feel.

It was kind of like patch work, all these different elements sewed into one big piece.

Karla etched beauty. She was in her mid 40's and always housed a sleek up-do whenever she was on shift. She took pride in her make up to, very natural but she always wore a signature red lip that gave her a vintage look. She was a rare beauty in this run down district of New York.

Karla stood out like a sore thumb. She was a southern bell, her southern accent never faltering even if she had called New York her home for over 15 years. She was a hit with the locals, especially the men. She had an essence about her that naturally made the customers gravitate towards her. She was never short on the tips that's for sure.

"Do you even have to ask Karla" I raise my eyebrows at her and offer her a warm smile as I shrug my arms out of my beige winter coat and lay it on the booth next to me.

She throws back a smile of her own as she walks away, balancing an assortment of plates and glasses in her hands. I could never do what Karla did. She could be in a circus with her impressive juggling skills. Me on the other hand, I would surely break everything in site.

Sitting back in my seat I grab my bag from beside me and rummage through the disorganised mess within. I had everything a girl would ever need in this A4 size bag. Tampons? I had them. Copious amounts of hair ties? I had thousands. Hand cream? Had it. Chewing gum? 4 packs. Paracetamol? Check. I had everything a girl would ever need.

After a minute or so rummaging, I pull out the compact mirror and open it.

I had to look perfect.

Looking at myself, I wiped around my lips, trying to get off the red smudges that always seemed to form whenever I wore my favourite red shade. Once that was complete I moved the mirror around the top of my head, ensuring that my pinned up hair laid exactly how it was suppose to do.

That itself was a challenge. Naturally graced with curly hair that was to unruly most days to even try and run a brush through it. It was always a struggle whenever I did tbis certain hair do.

A bun clipped at the back of my hair with my natural out brown curtain bangs being the only section of my hair that was pinned down to my head. To even get this to stay I would nearly use a whole bottle of hairspray.