Red [h. styles]

Three

3

AN: The Twitter handle is not real. Neither is the number. Sorry. The song, if anyone has not heard it:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BarDOBWuVg4&feature=youtu.be 

A little over a year passed, and Jena had all but forgotten about Harry. There had been lovers before him and lovers after him, as Jena wasn't particularly fond of being tied down.

She had, however, signed on with a firm in New York City. She would finally pursue her dream of developing contracts. While the idea was boring for most, it was all Jena wanted to do.

The office was having a little 'going-away' party for her in the lounge, and while Jena was honored, she just wanted to get out. However, Stacey would have been devastated if she up and left, so Jena dealt with it.

"We're all going to miss you," Stacey said sadly, and others nodded their agreement.

"I'll miss you too," Jena assured her, "but it's for the best. You'll find a new intern and I'll... I'll prosper. But don't worry, I'll keep in touch."

"You better!" Stacey scolded. "Now come one—let's cut the cake."

"Woo!" Jena shouted. "The easiest way to my heart: food!"

Stacey giggled. "You're so predictable."

Jena glared at her, but there was no malice behind it. "Yeah, yeah, I know."

"Oh, hey!" Stacey exclaimed. "Harry Styles dropped his new album! We should listen to it!"

"You know, I have to be... anywhere but here," Daniel, another ex-coworker said, and all the men filed out of the room, leaving only Stacey and Jena.

"Guess they didn't want to listen," Stacey commented, "oh well. You're still here!"

"Joy." Jena quipped, but the sarcasm went right over Stacey's head. She was a killer lawyer, but a few pies short of a picnic when it came to societal conventions.

Jena sighed, lowering herself to the floor and tucking her legs under herself.

Stacey squealed when Harry's raspy voice came over the small speakers they had set up, and Jena chuckled at her reaction.

"Ooh, this one's my favorite!" Stacey cried, and Jena cocked her head slightly.

There was something familiar with the lyrics, something off-putting. "Stacey, what's this song called?"

"Carolina. Turns out Harry hooked up with a girl in Oregon and wrote a song about her! Can you imagine Harry Styles hooking up with you?" She shrieked happily.

"Yeah," Jena said breathlessly, "I can imagine."

Jena could do better than imagine, she could still feel his hands in his hair, his lips on her skin. She could remember the beautiful sounds he made when she did something right, and the overwhelming smell of his cologne.

She was 'all he thinks about'. Jena wasn't sure what to do with that information.

She was in a bit of a daze for the rest of the 'party', and was relieved when it was finally over. Jena walked slowly out to her car, getting into the driver's seat and pulling out her phone. The redhead opened her Twitter, @jenatownes, DM-ing Harry immediately.

My number: 123-456-7890. Call me. Now.

Jena started the car, driving back towards her apartment complex. Hey phone buzzed, an unlisted number, and Jena immediately pulled over into a Target parking lot.

"Hello?" She asked cautiously.

"Red!" A familiar voice responded. "It's Harry."

"Red?" Jena questioned, and Harry laughed awkwardly through the phone.

"My new nickname for you. What's up?"

"What's up?" Jena snapped. "You wrote a song about me, that's what's up."

"Oh, Carolina," Harry said sheepishly, "yeah, that's about you. I wanted to throw in the fact that you're a ginger, but I thought that'd be too obvious."

"Too obvious? Too obvious? You fucking used my last name!" Jena screeched.

"That was also a reference to Two Girls by Townes Van Zandt. I really don't see what the issue is, Jen." Harry soothed.

"The issue is that I fuck you once and you write a song revealing intimate details about me, saying I'm 'all you think about'! What the hell?" Jena cried, frustrated tears springing to her eyes.

"Look, Jena, I'm sorry you're upset, but I'm really not sure why. Most girls would be happy if I wrote a song about them. Then again, you aren't like most girls." Harry rationalized.

"Okay, first of all," Jena stated, "don't say anything about 'most girls'. It isn't poetic, it's just pathetic. It's putting a large percentage of the female population down just to raise one girl's self-esteem. Secondly, who said I wanted a song written about me?"

"Duly noted," Harry conceded, "so you didn't like the song?"

"No," Jena sounded flustered, trying to get her thoughts in order. "I liked it, it... it was sweet. But that doesn't make it okay! You didn't even ask my permission!"

"Okay, yes," Harry sighed, "I should have made sure you were okay with it before writing a song about you. That was my bad, and I should have handled it better. But the album's already been released, and there's nothing I can do about it now."

"I know, I know," Jena muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. "I'm not really sure why I'm upset, I'm just really overwhelmed right now. And realizing I was going to have to deal with rumors and the press and have no support system, seeing as I'm moving to New York, I-"

"You're what?" Harry cut her off, and Jena rolled her eyes.

"I'm moving to New York, keep up," she spat out.

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry asked, voice growing in eagerness, "do you know what that means?"

"Yes, of course," Jena huffed, "it means I won't know anyone."

"No, no," Harry rushed, but Jena didn't let him finish.

"Look, I gave you a bit of a hard time, and though I won't apologize for what I said, I realize I could have gone about it better. I'm going to hang up now." Jena said softly, ignoring Harry's cries of protests.

Jena looked down at her phone, an inner monologue raging in her mind. Finally, against her better judgement, she saved the number as 'Boyband'.