Red [h. styles]

Two

2

Jena threw open the curtains, allowing the sun to bathe the room in light. Harry stirred in the bed, still fast asleep. Jen gave a slight smile, pulling out a pen and paper.

One of my ex's t-shirts should be in the top drawer of the blue dresser. It should serve your purposes fairly well, seeing as I brought you home in a dress shirt. Hope you like pancakes! –Jen

About twenty minutes later, Harry shuffled into the kitchen, wearing the shirt she had laid out for him. "How did you know I love pancakes?"

"Female intuition," Jena teased, turning back towards the stove. "I can make blueberry, banana, or chocolate chip. What do you want?"

"Chocolate," Harry decided, and Jena beamed at him.

"A man after my own heart." Jena gasped dramatically, laying a hand on her chest.

"I try my best," he shot back happily. "So, what brings you to Oregon?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.

"Work. I'm a lawyer. Or, well, I'm training to be a lawyer."

"You seem a bit young to be done with law school." Harry commented.

"You're quite right, Harry. I'm twenty-two but I graduated early. The importance of education has been impressed upon me, and when the opportunity came to graduate college in three years and law school in two, I took it. It was very stressful, but a worthwhile experience."

Harry was quite floored at her school record but tried not to make it painfully obvious, instead redirecting the conversation back to his previous question. "Impressive, but that still doesn't quite explain why you chose Portland of all places to work."

Jena rolled her eyes at him but answered anyway. "I got offered a job here in Portland, and my grandmother told me: 'Jenavieve Townes, you better take that job—it's the best thing that's ever happened to you.' So I took it." Jena flipped a pancake, the smell drifting through the apartment.

"You must love your grandmother." Harry commented, spotting the freckles on the back of Jena's neck. He hadn't noticed them before.

"I do. She lives up in Carolina, I have family over there. She practically raised me." Jena said, carefully keeping emotion off her face.

"Why?" Harry asked, studying the ginger in front of him.

"Ah, ah, ah," Jena warned, turning to face him once more. "You can't unlock Tragic Backstory until you've reached Friend Level 10. And while seeing me naked did take you up some notches, you aren't quite there yet."

Harry laughed, taking the cue and changing the subject. "So, always imagined yourself as a West Coast girl?"

"Not really. It's always been a dream of mine to live in New York. The big streets, the tall buildings, the bright lights—I want it. I want to live in New York and be a business lawyer and help companies draw up contracts and be useful. Isn't that just the best feeling in the world? When you know you're needed?" Jena breathed, blue eyes wide.

"Absolutely," Harry answered, but with the way she was looking at him, he would have agreed with anything.

"So what are you doing in Portland?" Jena asked after a moment, taking the pancakes off the stove.

"One Direction's on tour," Harry explained, "and we've stopped in Oregon. We get back on the road tonight."

"Ah, right," Jena smirked, "your boyband. I think I'll call you that: Boyband. It has a nice ring to it."