Don't Make Me Fall in Love. (a Harry Styles fanfiction) [hold]

Chapter 5: The Most Beautiful Place

---KRIS' POV---

Oh Dear Lord, what is that infernal beeping? I thought groggily. My eyes stayed pressed closed as my hands popped out from under my comforter, searing for the dreaded alarm clock. I grabbed it and hit the "OFF" switch, only an amateur would press snooze just to have it ring in the next 5 minutes. I looked at the time and saw '7:00AM' flashing back at me. I groaned as I tossed the clock back onto my bedside table, as I thought back on my ridiculous night.

Harry Styles. An unwanted picture of him popped into my head. Did I really talk to him last night? Dance with him? KISS HIM?

Nope, it was just a drunken hallucination. Kiss Harry Styles?!?! You are imagining things, Kristal Edmonds. It was probably just a guy who looked like him. I repeated that to myself as I rolled out of bed. I mean, this was California, for goodness sake, there were tons of curly haired boys here. With green eyes. Right?

I walked into my bathroom and began brushing my teeth. I looked at myself in the mirror, almost shocked at how tired I looked. Spitting the foam out of my mouth, I frowned at the bags under my eyes. Sighing, I rinsed out my mouth and pulled my hair into a high bun. My wavy hair fought with me for a moment, until I managed to tug it into place.

I walked into my studio apartment to finish getting ready. I really did love this apartment. It was basically one big room with an attached bathroom. Most of the space was used for my art, canvases filled most of the open spaces. My bed sat in the corner of the room beneath a massive window that looked out onto the street. A dresser hugged the wall at the end of my bed, and across from there was my squishy couch, facing an average sized flatscreen on the wall. It was open and modest, I was desperately in love with my home. The tiled kitchen area was squared off with a morning bar and a few stools, where I promptly went to get a cup of coffee.

I reached into a cupboard to find my tin of coffee beans, but I found only air. On my tiptoes, I looked up only to remember that I ran out of coffee last week.

Cursing, I grabbed my purse, keys, and phone, and made my way to the independent coffee shop on my way to work.

Did I kiss him? I mean, him being a complete not-Harry Styles stranger? Why would I kiss a strange guy? I'm blaming it ALL on tequila.

I was jolted from my mental rant as my phone rang suddenly. Unknown number?

"Hello?" I said into the speaker after rushing to answer.

"Kristal? Hi, its Harry" a soft, gravelly, very English voice came drifting over the phone like silk over skin.

I nearly dropped my phone.

"I-I'm Sorry...who?" I stammered, standing frozen outside the coffee shop.

A chuckle came from the phone, "Harry Styles? You ran off after I got your number and kissed you last night? One Direction? An excessive amount of tequila? Any bells ringing, love?"

Harry Styles. Kissed. Phone number. Tequila. Kissed me. Harry Styles. One Direction. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. My mind seemed to be stuck in a circle for a moment as I inhaled quickly.

"Maybe a few bells, Curls" I whispered into the phone.

He laughed at the alias. "Yes, well, now that you remember me, are you free? I'd very much like to see you again, and properly this time."

"....Uhm....I...I have work" I said, bewildered. Why would he want to see me?

"Then I'll just come to your work. You can't run from me there." He said in his deep morning voice. Obviously, he was still in bed. Oh great, now I'm picturing him in bed. He probably sleeps naked.

Pushing my traitorous thoughts out of my head, I answered him, "Fine, but I won't tell you where I work. If you find The Gallery, then I'll speak with you."

And with that, I hung up the phone and told myself to forget the entire conversation. If he wanted to find me, good luck to him. There were hundreds of art galleries in Los Angeles. And I would not let him bully me into any information. 

Coffee completely forgotten, I turned on my heel and began to walk the short distance to The Gallery.

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"KRIS?"

I jumped as I turned to see the gallery owner, Geoff, looking at me.

"I'm sorry, Geoff," I put my head into my hands, "You just scared me." I got up from the stool I was sitting on at the front desk of the gallery. I had been working as the Receptionist/Consultant for the past year. It was a smaller gallery, named THE GALLery (ironically, I suppose), in a more hipster-esque area. The building was in a small, ex-fabric warehouse so there we exposed beams in the high ceilings, and mainly one big room. The walls came into the gallery floor in strange angles, and displayed all kinds of art. A lot of unconventional art was displayed, such as sculptures made of shopping carts and hairdryers, paintings with hyper focused figures, and pieces made entirely of broken camera lenses. It was the most beautiful place I knew.

"Krissy, darling, I would ask you why you spent the past four hours staring at the door, but I'm afraid of the answer." He said, putting a hand under my chin. The VERY gay man had been a father to me ever since I showed up at his gallery a year earlier with only my paintbrushes, a dream, and a couple hundred dollars cash.

"Geegee, I'm just in a daze, I promise."

"Alright, my dearest, I'm out for the day, off to look for some more artists for the big Winter Exhibit! Have you finished anything lately?" He looked at me, the concern showing in his eyes. He knew of the whole Jackson ordeal. He also knew that I had been struggling to find inspiration throughout that entire yearlong relationship. He knew my skills, my talent, but also that you can't display talent.

"Not yet, Geegee, but I'll find it again. My muse is out there." I responded.

He air-kissed both cheeks before he waltzed out the door.

I stood to stretch and take a stroll around the gallery, as no one had been coming in today. I walked back to the huge exposed brick wall, it had light fixtures set to light something, but the wall had remained blank. It was the spot I had reserved for myself. This is my motivation. This will be my wall. I won't let another man keep me from it. Not like Jackson did. Not some British pop star, not anyone.

"'ALLO? KRIS?"

My head whipped around as I head his voice come from the front. He found me.

I closed my eyes for a second, and opened them to my blank wall. Love made you blank. It took away the desire to paint and turned it into a desire for words and touch and affection. "Love" had taken away my inspiration and almost killed my dream. I wasn't going to let it happen again.

Walking up to the front, I had a mask of indifference on my face.

"Looks like you found me, Mr. Styles, what can I do for you?"