Cold Coffee [Harry Styles AU]

   ☯Chapter 1

About 3,000 moons ago, or 8 years to be exact, I wanted to be involved with crime investigation.

I was intrigued by the superhero-like detectives, and how they solved each crime as if it were a jigsaw puzzle. When I saw my first episode of CSI, I knew I needed to be one of those people on the screen. Most kids only desired to be something like an astronaut, or maybe a ballerina. Pirouettes or wearing space suits wasn't exactly what I wanted at all. And twelve years later, I'd still be thinking the same.

I landed my first "legit" job at a police station in the city of Boston. I mean, all I did was get officers their daily cup of joe, but it still was something. I pursued a career as a record organizer in an old record store, and I actually loved that job. I was infatuated with records. Bands from the 80's and 90's is what I mostly listen to. Vintage records and CDs cluttered my sight as I stepped into that dainty shop. I remember I met a boy with blonde hair and a Nirvana tee behind the counter.

"You're new?" He asked, looking at me. His expression was confused yet excitement sparkled from his blue eyes.

"I-yeah," I fumbled on those two words.

Kate, you can't even socialize for your life.

"I'm Luke," he smiled at me, his eyes resembled warmth.

"Kate," I grinned softly at him.

And that, was when I met one of my closest friends, Luke. We met in the spring of 2009 at the record store. He was the cashier, and I organized all the records. Maggie, the owner, wanted to hire more employees since she only had Luke and another girl who never bothered to show up. So Maggie hired me.

Maggie and I grew closer as the years went by. She was about sixty years old, and wore old band tees from the 70's and 80's. She was the coolest person to talk to. Maggie would tell me stories of her in college, and how she met Jimmy Hendrix before he died. Luke, Maggie, and I always spent time together, even after work. It was just the three of us, and after work hours were over, we stayed in the record store, blasting Pink Floyd and Rolling Stones music. We danced and sang along to each song every Friday night after closing hours.

But things changed.

Sales kept dropping. Records were piling up with no one purchasing them. Maggie decided the store needed to retire, and it broke her heart. And even mine. It closed down almost a year ago.

 Boston University is where I attended my classes at, and during my late afternoons, I've been working as an assistant of Detective Miller, the head honcho. All he did was what all I ever wanted to do. And that, was to interrogate the criminals in that damn room. Although I was never good at words, I always daydreamed about that moment. It's what I've been anticipating to do for so many years, and each day, I just serve him coffee with "two packs of Splenda and a drop of cream".

As of this moment, I'm making my way up to the police station, walking from my university. The day was transitioning from radiance to dusk. The dark clouds with sunlight glimmering through the cracks littered the sky. It was a cold December day, and the rush of chilled air made me shiver in my own coat.

 Damn, it's so cold. I might as well freeze to death.

Once I reached the Boston Police Station, I pushed the glass doors open, and grabbed my ID card. I let myself in, and walked through the entry room to the doors where the employees worked. The heater instantly gave me warmth. I hastily grabbed my card, and swiped it through the slot. The door became automatically unlocked. Desks and officers cluttered the room.