Gone for Good //HS

Chapter 1

"How were you feeling when you wrote that chapter?" Jen places her notecards on her lap as she reaches for her tea, or whatever fucking hot drink, that's been strategically placed on the end table between us. Thankful for her overly made up face focused on her cup, I can have some silence for a few seconds. I knew I shouldn't have let my agent talk me into this bullshit 'let's talk about your feelings' kind of interview, with none other than the nosey as shit Jen Collins.

"Not very good." I curtly reply. I hear people laugh in the audience and even Jen has a smile, so I attempt to make it seem like I didn't mean that as rude as it sounded. Even though I definitely did.

Jen allows a laugh yet again, fake I'm sure.

"Harry, really. You've said before that this is based off a true story, right?" Fuck, do I hate interviews, and fuck do I hate Jen Collins.

"Yep, pretty much everything in it happened." I clench my jaw. It's getting really hard to be polite.

"Happened to...?" Jen raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

My hands instinctively find themselves pulling at the roots of my hair. I let out a loud sigh to get the point that I didn't even want to be here, across.

"Me." I shift uncomfortably in my seat, and she seemingly ignores it.

"How did you two meet?" Jen crosses her legs again. I swear she's done it at least 40 times since I've been out here.

If she'd actually read my book like she said she did, I'm sure she would not have asked me this, but it's one of the least intrusive questions she's asked so far.

"Well..." I begin.

____________________

"Niall, what the fuck!" He was 45 minutes late. A mum with her two kids sitting at the table next to me covers he children's ears, and I roll my eyes.

"I'm sorry, Harry! I just can't make it. My mum needs help with setting up some things in the new house. Since I can't make it neither can Liam, I was his ride." Niall's mum had just moved house with her new husband.

"I'm leaving and telling them to put it on your tab, have fun." With that I hang up. I already ordered my food, but it was half gone and I wasn't that hungry. I stand and walk by the mum with the two kids.

"Oh shit, fuck, damn." Damn wasn't really an ear covering  worthy word, but I threw it in for good measure. I walk away feeling proud, hearing gasps from the mum, and laughter from the kids.

I start my way towards the door when I'm stopped by my blonde waitress waving a piece of paper that I'm assuming is my bill. Well, Niall's bill.

"Can I help you?" I ask. She is hot, no denying that.

"Your bill?" Her eyebrows knit together in a mixture of confusion and annoyance.

"Niall Horan has a tab here, put it on that." I push past her and walk out the door, despite her yelling at me to come back.

I step out into the slightly chilly, October air of New York. Without much else to do, I decide to go back to my apartment.

My apartment isn't far enough away to spend time trying to hail a cab, and sitting in traffic, so I start on my probable 20 minute trek back.

New York is one of the best places for people watching, I'm sure. Just walking down the street for a few minutes, you see so many different people. I, myself, wasn't really one for caring about people's backstories, but that was one thing and living here was another.

I look up from the ground that my eyes have been focused on to avoid any unwanted eye contact.

My eyes travel from the cracks in the sidewalk, to the lanes of unmoving traffic, to the metal overflowing trash cans placed on the sides of the pavement every so often. I look around and spot a girl on a bench reading, alone.

Why she would want to read on a bench alongside the noisy, and busy streets of New York fazes me.

She didn't look like the type to read, with her quite off putting, but intriguing demeanor. Wearing a thin white v neck shirt, tight black jeans, and a leather jacket, it was strange. I didn't wear much colour, but with her it seemed different. Her ensemble wasn't just clothing, it was a statement, along with her reading.

I walked closer and closer to this girl that didn't realize how different she looked in a city where people were the epitome of different.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her, she was the darkness of such a bright city.

Right as I passed her and we were parallel, she looked up from her book for a few seconds at me.

Her green eyes looked up through her thick dark lashes, playfully. I wouldn't have noticed the slight smirk playing on her lips if I wasn't staring so intently. It was only a few seconds, and she looked back down at her book.

I stopped walking, but she didn't seem to notice. I backtracked a few steps, and sat down next to her. Again, she didn't seem to notice or care.

Over the years, I've gained some experience with talking to women, and if I say so I'm pretty good. But, in this moment I felt nervous.

"How is your day?" I ask her, my voice is slightly shaky but I'm hoping she didn't notice.

She looks up from her book again, and stares at me. I can't read her expression in the slightest, she just looks at me and studies my face, eyes darting everywhere. I feel uncomfortable and self conscious under her stare, until she looks forward and sighs.

"Uneventful," She glances at me but looks ahead again, "until now."

She surprisingly tries to engage in a conversation.

"How is yours?" Although the question itself is inquisitive, her tone is less than.

"Good." I try to keep my tone light, and keep my cool.

"Do you always do this? Talk to girls trying to read a book?" She crosses her arms, but she doesn't look angry. I don't know her yet, but I can tell that being able to see her emotions is a rarity unless it's annoyance.

She turns her head back to me, although this time not staring, just simply looking.

"Only the pretty ones." I smile. Her eyes are amazing, cold but soft and warm at the same time.

Her eyes narrow slightly, and one side of her lips raise, and she laughs.

"Flattered, really." She looks as uninterested in our sudden turn of conversation as she sounds.

"I'm Harry." I change the subject, and raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm Blake." She smiles, and I watch as her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

"Would you like to go out some time?" I ask. I may sound a bit too confident, but it's better than the latter.

"Maybe." She closes her book and starts to stand.

"W-What?" Who says maybe?

She bends down so we're eye level.

"I work at a coffee shop somewhere around here. If you want me to 'go out with you sometime,' find me. I work tomorrow, Wednesday's, Friday's and Sundays, 2-5. Thanks for the chat."She used her fingers in air quotes when she repeats what I asked. She smiles again, a real smile. Blake stands straight and starts walking away, when she turns again.

"Goodbye, Harry." She laughs as she walks away from me and around the corner, leaving me asking myself what the fuck just happened.