Summer Styles (Harry Styles)

The Call

Growing up as a preachers kid and having a mother who worked for the CIA really made life difficult. Even though she retired when she got married, I suspect that she still has connections all around the world. And with those connections, she will probably be checking up on me often while I'm away.

She never told me any stories of her previous life. She always said that it wasn't my business and that she didn't tell me for my own good. I'm curious though. If I was as badass as she acts like she was, I would want to know. Wouldn't she want to seem like a badass to me? That's what you call a role model.

"Mom," she looks at me with emotionless eyes. "Can you, please, tell me something about working with-"

"No," she cuts me off. "I've told you time and time again that my life previous to you and your father doesn't concern you. Not even he knows what I did while working."

There is no use. She will always be silent when asked about the subject. Well, she will blow up, but be silent.

" where are you meeting Payson?" Nice save. Changing the subject is something she does often.

"We're meeting in the airport. The flight is at 8:15. She said she would be there at 7, and that's 20 minutes from now. I'll just wait for her inside."

"That's nonsense. I'll come in with you. You should not be waiting around for somebody at your age inside of one of the most populated airports in the world."

She has a point. The airport in Atlanta is pretty crowded on a regular basis, but she can't come with me. It's time that she lets go. I'm not her little girl anymore. Her job is done. I've turned out better than she expected, probably.

"No. No that's okay. I can wait. She will only keep me waiting for about 10 minutes by the time we get there," I say, hoping that the words will work; Hoping that she will not park the car and come inside.

With an extended sigh, mom pulls into the drop off area at the airport. I look over and she is tearing up. Great. Now she makes me feel like shit for not letting her come inside.

I reach over and give her a hug, trying to calm her nerves. She grips me tightly and lets me go moments later.

"Stay safe," she says. "Don't talk to guys with piercings or tattoos. They're always the dangerous ones. Here," she hands me pepper spray and a sharp looking key chain with fingers holes so you can hold it tightly and stab someone. "Take this. Remember, your father and I love you. So much. We only want the best for you."

"I love you, too, mom. I'll be back in a few weeks and we can have a girls day. Just the two of us."

She nods and I hug her once more. Tears are flowing down both of our faces. Releasing her from my grip, I turn to the visor above me and pull it down. After checking my make up in the reflection, I conclude that it's not necessary to reapply anything to my face. I open the door and jump out. She pops the trunk and I dig my bag out from the trunk, close it, and walk on to the side walk, waving my mother goodbye.

She leaves and the world around me comes to life. I hear honking and cursing all around. I take a deep breath and make my way into the airport.

After minutes of searching, I find the check in counter where Payson and I are supposed to meet. I decide to take a seat and wait. It's only 10 until 7. She has time to get here.

Regardless of how much battery I wanted to save, I pulled out my phone and put my head phones in to listen to music. Minutes float by so quickly. I tap the screen and it lights up. The time 7:23 comes up on the screen in bright white numbers. My eyes go wide. At that very moment the phone starts to ring.

"Hello," I say into the speaker.

"Had. Oh my gosh. You wouldn't believe it. So, I walk into the airport-"

"Okay. Where are you? We have to leave. Like, now," I cut her off. It seems my mother and I have the same problem with cutting people off while they're speaking.

"Well, you see, the thing is, I walked into the airport and remembered that I forgot make up bag on my dresser," she pauses, so I begin.

"Okay. That's alright. You can use mine,"

"The thing is, I decide to go back home to get it. On the way out, I met these guys. Turns out they play football for Duke. You know? Where you will be attending. Thinking of you, I started asking questions about the campus and they invited me to go there with them. You know that this is a one time chance for me. Like chance with college guys who play for Duke. What I'm trying to say is that I'm on a plane to go back with them," she stops talking. There is a long silence and I hear "Hadley, I'm sorry. It's just that, London will always be there and I want to go with them."

Are you fucking me? You have got to be kidding. My best friend in this whole world just fucked me over worse than I even thought possible. How do I reply to this news? Shit.

Instead of cussing her out like she deserves, I say, "you know what? That's okay."

I can imaging her wide eyes at what I just said. "W-wh-what?" She asks, obviously taken back.

"It's okay. I completely understand," controlling my anger is easier said than done.

"Really? Good. Thank God. I for sure thought that you were going to be mega pissed," she giggles.

"Oh. Of course not. It only took me two years to save up enough money for this trip and the only person I could imagine myself going to fucking Europe with has fucked me over worse than anybody else in my damn life. So, best friend, you have a hell of a time hanging out with guys that will be with you long enough to get into your pants, then drop you like a fly. And for God sake, please use protection. Nobody wants another one of you running around here. One of you is more than enough. The world can only handle so much slut and bitch in one person."

Okay. I probably said some things that I shouldn't have, but, really, who does this? I'm the worst friend picker ever.

Over the phone, I hear soft sobs. Good. I hope she does cry. Maybe she will realize what she has just done.

"Hadley, please underst-"

"No. Nope. I will not. Have a nice life, Payson. And may you have a blessed day," I slam my phone on my lap. Good thing is has such a protective case, or else it would have broken. I know it for sure.

Grunting, I get up and start walking towards the check in. I should ask for a refund for my ticket and go call my mom. I can't. This trip has kept me going for the last few years. Going across seas alone is really scary. I can't think about all the shit I'll have to endure myself.

When I get to the counter, I begin to ask how to find a way to refund my ticket, but instead, I check in for flight 836 to London, England.