Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 15

HARRY STYLES

I flip through the book, already I turned down the corner of numerous pages. These were the recipes I hope to try out someday. She made it seem so simple, but I am sure putting it into action would be a little more difficult. I would never consider myself an amateur in the kitchen, but also the skill set needed to excel as an actual chef is not in my wheelhouse.

"Looking through it again?" Mitch startled me by appearing in the doorway, dressed down in linen pants and a thin blue shirt. "I could get you a bookmark if you want?"

Mitch has never once since we have known each other approved of me folding down the corners of book pages. I know it's a nasty habit, but I picked it up when I was younger and never stopped doing it. Book lovers of the world would be horrified to know this, and it's one of my shameful secrets. I have a few in life that are just silly secrets I try to hide away from the world. Once your entire life is broadcasted you lose a lot of sense of secrecy and hidden moments away.

I place the book on my nightstand and instead stretch out as Mitch makes his way into the room. He was carrying a bag of food along with two drinks that looked to be a sort of healthy smoothie. I eye the bag for an answer, "drunken noodles with tofu and extra broccoli, a side of white rice for you, pad thai for myself, and two matcha blueberry honey smoothies."

Mitch, and the love of his life Sarah, were both vegans but during Sarah's pregnancy she craved ice cream a little too frequently. They both gave up and became vegetarians instead, which was great for me because being on the road as a vegetarian usually meant the rest of the group wanted fast food while I opted to want a different place. Mitch would go with me and we could both dine somewhere meatless instead.

Mitch unpacks the food while I shuffle my way over to the small tabled area of my suite. The food smelled amazing and I didn't even realize how hungry I was until Mitch showed up.

After we sat and ate a few bites I couldn't help but speak out the truth that was on my mind. "After that meal this tastes bland as ever right?"

Mitch chuckles with a speared piece of mushroom on his fork, "wild it's the same girl right?"

I choke back the cold drink in a confused stupor... the same...

Mitch could sense my confusion, always able to read me so well. "Harry, you must have realized right? It was the same girls we ran into in New York. Remember? They were drunkenly walking through the city and we bumped into them after the concert.

I started flipping through every memory of that night. I was so exhausted after the show. Mitch and I had to walk back to the hotel because some fans had bombarded the gates and buses. I remember walking and thinking to myself about the city being so stressful because of the bustling vibes, I always prefer somewhere warmer and more along the west coast. But then we...

I vaguely remember turning a corner to see Mitch picking up a purse and helping someone out. It was her. I didn't even remember it. We bumped into two girls who were giggling and nice. I was surprised they didn't recognize me and took it as an advantage, trying to hang back. The girls talked to us or made a joke, but when she yawned I took it as my moment to call the interaction to a close.

It was her. I met her before and didn't even realize it.

The groan I emit was audible despite hiding my face behind my hands. Mitch only laughs and continues eating. When I throw my head back to stare at the ceiling I tell Mitch the truth about why I am miniature spiraling in the moment, "you realize she hates me now right? She probably assumes I'm an asshole, a diva, and just like the tabloids say. I'm over privileged."

That was a new one lately to hit the covers but it was making its rounds. Apparently since I have another album out, another tour, and I still have refused to do any collabs, any features, and I haven't officially reached out to any of my old band mates that makes me over privileged, full of myself, and like I think I am just too talented to compete with.

If only anyone knew the truth of the matter. I have tried to collaborate, I wanted features in the past and present, and the whole One Direction rumors about reunions, Larries, me hating the boys, and anything else is the wildest from the truth. I will never not love my friends, but growing up sometimes does that, you drift. I will forever support them all, but after everything with management, rumors, and the internet creating feuds or fantasies it became easier to be in a bubble.

I'm sure if they knew Niall and I have a every other week skype call where we catch up they would lose their shit. Or if they knew I visited Liam seven times while he was in rehab. Louis and I celebrated his son's birthday at the zoo last year in Berlin and a tour of NASA the year before. Hell, Zayn was the one who I called the day I planned my tour to see if it would line up with his at all for a dinner event one night.

I have always hated how the internet portrays me, but it is something I cannot control. I can control how those close to me perceive me though, and show them the truth... not in this case though.

She probably thinks I purposely forgot about her or pretended I didn't know her.

Mitch places the lid back onto his own food, "you are overthinking this probably. She doesn't remember you either I am sure. So if you are sitting there doing that thing, the thing you do all to often, reasoning with yourself about why you are the bad guy here, it's false. That's the fake narrative of what a tabloid or manager would tell you about yourself, but the truth is you were walking in the dark, it was late, she was drunk, you were in your own head, and you two didn't learn each others names. How were either of you two going to remember each other? It's fine Harry, I promise."

He's right.

"I guess that makes sense. I just don't like when -"

Mitch cuts me off, because he has heard it a million times, "when people think you are rude or don't remember them. I know. Harry you try to memorize almost one thousand fans every single night on stage, so I am sure forgetting one stumbled moment in the streets of New York will be forgiven."

Mitch is right. I have to tell my brain to do a reboot and stop attacking me, because more often than not I am overthinking, overdoing it, and thinking the worst. It comes with the years of fame tearing you down and making you reconsider every interaction by combing over it with a fine tooth comb.

I finish my food while Mitch prattles on about some changes to the upcoming schedule, mostly in the form of times we have to get to locations, an added interview and photoshoot, and a magazine that asks if they can attend to write a review.

I had to start getting ready to head to the venue soon, because with hair, make up, early photos, sound tests, everything always took too long. I call Lloyd and ask him when he was arriving, and plan my schedule around that.

Giving one last look to the cookbook I recently acquired, such a strange thing to have on my mind before a show. I think the weight of feeling like now she may have disliked me was heavy. I didn't appreciate it when people thought I was who the tabloids created, and this woman was so talented and kind that I didn't want a bad version of myself living in her mind.

There isn't much I can do now to fix the situation though, and I try to start erasing it from my mind instead of fixating. Maybe the best I can do is recreate one of the recipes after the tour and post it, seeing if she comments or notices. She followed me after I posted about her and tagged her, hoping that she would say something... she did not.

Meeting Elle was a random encounter, and somehow it stuck with me, but that would soon end. The lights, sounds, and roars of the crowd that night muffled every other thought. I didn't once think about how I presented myself at dinner, if I said the right things, if she remembered me from New York, or if I could change her mind about me. I focused on the one thing that makes me feel happy and alive, my music, my performance, and everyone who supports me.