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

Chapter 73

Since tomorrow is a "holiday" (ew). I will upload this today instead! Enjoy friends. CHAPTER 74 is about to be SOMETHING ELSEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Are you ready?!

HARRY STYLES

I left the loft before Elle was awake. The sunlight hadn't even danced over the skyline. I knew I was in a battle with time today. It was the last day before this stupid event, and who knows what could happen during or after that.

I already summoned the car before I got downstairs, unsure of when the lobby attendant would be present. I knew Elle was friendly with him, and I didn't want any questions that could give away what I was doing. I slipped through the hallways and lobby like I was guilty of something.

Maybe I was just nervous.

The night before had ended quietly in my favorite way. Elle draped across me, her body a little too warm where she kicks her feet out of the covers and pulls her hair into a faux bun on the pillow. I'd laid there beside her, my chest tight with so many emotions.

It all remained as my first thought that morning. As soon as I blinked awake it loomed over my mind again.

The cab driver was talkative. I wasn't. Quickly he gave up, distracting himself instead. He turned the radio up, and some weatherman with too much cheer in his voice said there was a chance of scattered showers later, some wind gusts, something about heat rising toward the weekend. I watched the buildings change through the window, watched the glass-and-steel of Midtown give way to older brick, faded murals, bodegas not open yet.

I clutched the paper scrap in my pocket like a charm, I wrote it as fast as I could when she told me where I was heading.

I didn't mean to start the phone calls at nearly five a.m., but Mitch was awake on kid duty anyway, and didn't even think it was odd. Mitch had told me to ask Sarah. Sarah said to ask Ny-Oh. Ny-Oh said she knew a girl who was dating this other girl who owned a place down in Queens.

Yes, I am aware of the hoops I jump through daily.

Supposedly it was a small place. It didn't have a website or a sign, just a pale green door and a window that always looked fogged up, even on dry days. She told me the alley looked more sketchy than anything, but once you find the comic shop you walk past and then you'll find her.

Simple enough I guess?

When the driver pulled up the sun was barely scraping the tops of the buildings. He looked just as confused as me, the address seeming to lead us no where, a thirty minute drive for this?A guy with a broom swept the front of the deli next door. I stepped out, heart in my throat, and stared at the alley.

The storefront was narrow, behind the deli, down a brick alley, wedged between the comic shop and a laundromat. Just like described, the window glass was frosted, not by design, but by time, too scuffed and gritty.

I hoped inside was better than the bleak outer shell. I unfurl the paper from my pocket again.

632 147th and Union - call 914-324-5983

The letters were already wearing away, the paper scrunched back into my pocket while I wait for someone to answer the number I dialed. I think Ny said her name would be Marigold.

After a few rings I gave up. The phone call was transferred to voice mail instead.

Shit. What do I do now?

As I started to panic, thinking my plan was meeting an ill fate the door opened ajar, "Harry?" A small girl with numerous ear and facial piercings, neon blue hair, and a face tattoo spoke softly. "Come on, Naomi said you'd be here soon. Sorry, I heard my phone go off but it's on the charger."