the pretty ugly - harry styles

s i x

"OK, BUT THAT was almost five years ago. You can't hold me to that," Nathan and I begin cracking up in the back table of our favorite coffee shop. Eyes of annoyed students glare our way as they type from their computers. 

I forgot what it was like to reminisce old stories.

"You promised me that if we were both single at the age of 40, we would marry each other. Now you wanna back out? Geez' Logan, I had higher expectations in our friendship." 

"How bout' we make it 50? I have high hopes in myself to find a husband before menopause. Specifically a husband that isn't you."

"Ouch," he returns with a smirk. 

Nathan and I had been talking in Cafe 860 for what felt like hours. Conversation was easy between us; we were good friends. I almost had forgotten how close we were, ever since he started dating Libby. 

I wasn't jealous of their relationship. I was simply saddened that my friendship with Nathan wasn't as strong as it used to be. Before Libby, I could tell him anything without the pressure of his girlfriend finding out. More specifically, the one girl who hates me the most. 

There was a time I had feelings for Nathan. Feelings that weren't strictly friend  feelings. But it was absurd for me to rekindle those thoughts, especially with Libby out to get me. That is exactly why hanging out with Nathan is not a smart idea. But I couldn't help myself. I missed him. 

"Here you are," he places a blueberry muffin on my plate in front of me. 

"Why thank you, sir." 

"So tell me," he fidgets in his seat. "What's been going on in Sydney's world lately?" 

"Well you know, Libby and I-" 

"No," Nathan interjects. "I don't want to hear about Libby, or the party. I want to hear about something else." His blue eyes stared back at me with a warm glow. With his head tilted, he waited for my response. 

But what was I to say? 

I mean, I could tell him about my parents soon-to-be divorce, my slipping friendship with Annie, or, the best one of them all, the mystery boy who harassed me at a party, in which I recently found out is the high school hunk. 

"There's nothing really to tell. I'm kind of boring." 

"You are anything but  boring, Sydney." 

I shrug, while fiddling with the wrapper from my muffin. 

"Com'n, there's gotta be something interesting going on with you." As soon as the words left Nathan's mouth, I look up to see a face nudged within the pages of a book. With dark brown curls flipped above his forehead, the boy sat leaning back in his chair flipping through pages of The Great Gatsby. 

My eyes stared blankly ahead, fixated on the outline of the boy's who face I couldn't see. But laying eyes on his face wasn't necessary. The black boots and ripped apart jeans had already given it away. 

"Are you okay?" Nathan had noticed my blank stare. 

I shake my head back to reality. "Yes, yes, I'm fine." With my eyes still aligned with the boy across the way, Nathan turns his head over his shoulder searching for my distraction. 

I immediately regret staring too long. I noticed it happened to be a habit of mine. 

As the boy lowers the book that had covered his face, Harry's bruised eye is revealed, along with a white v-neck that seemed as if it was too tight.