Big Yellow Taxi [Harry Styles]

Prologue

            I brushed my thick brown hair back behind my ear, watching as the rain poured down outside the window of my Benefit store. I groaned inwardly, turning back to my client, focusing as I contoured her cheeks. Makeup had a way of opening up people’s faces, showing off their gorgeous features in new ways. I smiled at my handy work, lightly dusting away the fall out that had been caused from the eyeshadow off of her cheeks.

            “Take a look,” I told the girl, handing her a mirror. She looked into the mirror, studying herself before allowing a bright smile to form on her cheeks.

            “I love it!” She exclaimed, checking herself out in the mirror. This is what I lived for, the expression on people’s faces as they took on their enhanced beauty. I smiled down at her, handing her the paper I’d written all the products I used on.

            “Hey, so, my shift is about to end, but if you need any other help you can just ask Marista,” I pointed at my coworker, who smiled happily at the girl. She nodded, taking her slip of paper in both hands and heading over to Mar, but not before thanking me once more.

            I walked into the backroom, grabbing my jacket and one of the spare umbrellas we kept for visitors to borrow. Heading back into the main room, I waved goodbye to my coworkers before entering out into the torrential downpour that was London.

            “Shit,” I said to nobody in particular, watching the rain attacking me and my fellow street dwellers. Sighing, I found myself quickly having to admit that there was no way I’d be walking home, not even in wellies and a proper rain coat would I stand a chance in this weather. I stepped onto the main streets, a swarm of cars and busses and taxis coming from every which way, and stepping up to the curb I took on the challenge of trying to hale a taxi. I picked my hand up, waving it out from under the umbrella.

            After what felt like fifty taxis had passed me, one finally slowed down, coming to a stop for me. I smiled at the driver, going to grab the door when a head appeared in front of me, grabbing the door and ripping it open.

            “Sorry love,” said the figure, giving me a wide smile. I blinked back at them, taking in their appearance as a boy. I knew him from somewhere, I had to – his face was entirely too familiar, with his deep set dimples and bright green eyes. There was no way a person could forget a face like that.

            Coming to my senses then, I scoffed, pushing him away from the taxi and making my move to crawl inside, “No way pretty boy,” I said, bumping him with my hip.

            “No can do,” he said, crawling in along side of me. Soon, we were both sitting in the taxi, the Middle Eastern looking driver giving a quizzical look, “Together?” He asked.

            “No,” we both hissed, the curly headed boy next to me stealing glances behind us every three seconds. I groaned, trying to push him out of the taxi.

            “This is my car, pretty boy,” I hissed at him, only to find him trying to push me into the other door.

            “You don’t understand,” he said, “I really need this car.”

            “Sucks to be you,” I said, turning back to the driver and giving him my address.

            Before I could even tell what was going on, the boy was yanking the door closed and allowing the driver to take off into the night, his windshield wipers going a mile a minute trying to force the rain away.

            “Change of address,” said the boy, leaning forward and giving him a new address – probably his own. I gasped, yelling at the driver to ignore him.

            “Shut up!” The driver finally exclaimed, gaining a look of surprise from both pretty boy, and myself. He took in a sharp breath, looking at the both of us through his rear view mirror, “I’ll talk you both to both places, yes?” He questioned.

            I looked at pretty boy, but he ignored me, asking the driver to drop him off first.

            “Excuse you,” I said, “Who died and made you the boss of this taxi ride, pretty boy?”

            Before he could answer, the cab came to a halting stop, and looking up, my eyes settled on the bumper-to-bumper traffic we’d found ourselves in.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” pretty boy groaned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning into the seat – I couldn’t believe it, the kid was actually pouting.

            After a long silence, I turned and looked at him, “You act like you’ve never seen traffic before,” I said, watching as he started to scan the area once more. Whatever he was trying to avoid by getting into this taxi was obviously bad – it was like he’d encountered the plague itself, and was now trying to get as far away from it as he could by use of a taxicab service.

            “It’s kind of important that I keep moving,” he told me, giving me a look as if it were obvious. I allowed myself to study him now, trying to figure out just where I knew him from.

            “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked, my face blank of emotion. He blinked back at me, like he was shocked.

            “I mean, well,” he stuttered.

            “Maybe you’re on a TV show,” I said to myself, more than him. He watched me, trying impossibly to figure out who the hell he was. I was shit for this, giving names to faces, and faces to names. It was a miracle I remembered anybody, hell, I got my coworkers mixed up more than I got them right, “Can I have a hint?” I asked.

            He just looked at me and started humming.

            “Ignoring me is not going to help this traffic move along any smoother,” I told him, glaring. I crossed my arms over my chest, allowing my eyes to crinkle into slits, probably disappearing behind the lines of thick black liner I’d applied that morning.

            “You’ve got to be kidding me,” pretty boy says.

            “You say that a lot,” I said, “Is it a catch phrase in the show you’re on?”

            “Are you being serious?” He questioned, allowing his jaw to hang low. I shrugged, “For the most part.”

            “My name is Harry,” he said.

            “PRINCE HARRY!?” I exclaimed, “Why are you taking a taxi?” I added as an after thought.

            “No!” He groaned, turning away from me.

            “Oh wait,” I said, the gears in my head beginning to work properly, “You’re from that band,” I grinned.

            “Ladies and gentleman we’ve got a genius on our hands,” he mumbled.

            “Whatever, Pretty boy,” I said, rolling my eyes and turning back to look out of the window, watching the rain pour down on the London streets, the traffic barely moving.

            “It’s going to be a very long night,” I heard the cab driver say.

            “Amen to that,” I agreed.

It has been entirely too long since I wrote a first chapter, or prologue, or beginning to anything, basically. I’m sorry if this is complete shit. But whatever. It’ll get better later… I hope.

            Dedicated to Kenz because I adore her.