Far Too Many Good Intentions. (Harry Styles)

You can get addicted to a certain kind of sadness.

I awoke to the birds chirping loudly outside my window. It took me a moment to regain my bearings.

I'm in London. I think I met two famous people last night. My mother is halfway across the world.

"Holy shit," I muttered, sitting up and running my hands over my face. I reached over to check the time on my phone right as it began to ring. My heart jumped, and I laughed out loud again at the ridiculousness of his contact name.

I pressed the phone to my ear. "Hey, Sex Machine."

"Want to hide out in another alley with me this morning?" Harry's voice was whispery and low from a good night's sleep.

"Hmmm, how about coffee instead?" I giggled, and he laughed on the other end of the line.

Even his laugh was attractive. "That's definitely a better suggestion. I'll be there in thirty!"

I shot out of bed and sprinted to the shower. I still had airplane germs from the day before, and the shower left me clean and considerably less gross-looking. I pulled out clean leggings and a large dark blue wool sweater from my suitcase. This sweater was also something I had purchased with the thought of hoping my mother would hate it.

I did my makeup quickly, and let my hair dry. Just as I was pulling on my beat up pair of Uggs, my phone rang. I bounded over happily, thinking it was Harry who was calling. Oh, was I wrong. I was obligated to answer, seeing as if I didn't, she'd probably cancel the credit card. "Hello, Mother."

"Enjoying yourself, Addison?" her voice was heartless and abrasive, and it already put me in a bad mood.

"Yeah, actually, I'm having a great time. You know, I think I'll stay here forever, because I found people that genuinely care about me, so, yeah."

"Don't be silly, Addison. I cared about you! I clothed and fed you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, well that sure as hell doesn't make you a mom," I said, my voice wavering.

"I was a better mother than you'll ever be, you irresponsible, selfish brat--"

I hung up before she could say any more. She always did this. She always blamed her problems on how "ungrateful" I was. In truth, I had never done anything to her; I was her puppet for eighteen years, and I had lived a miserable life because of it. I'd learned to stop crying about the fact that she'd never love me, since there was no use in it.

As I forced the lump out of my throat, another text came through. This time, I was glad to answer it. "Come outside xx"

I was about to grab coffee with a handsome, famous pop phenom. Away from my mother, away from the people I was forced to associate with. Since when had this become my life?

I made my way to the entrance of the hotel, where I was once again met by a black suburban. I hopped in the back seat, where the fashionably dressed boy was sitting. He smiled widely, shuffling his hair around a bit. "We didn't want to take any chances like yesterday. Hello!"

"Understandable. Good morning!" I greeted cheerfully.

We chatted quietly before arriving outside a Starbucks. He pulled out a large grey beanie and shoved it over his voluminous curls. "Don't laugh, okay? I know I look odd," he chuckled.

"Wow, I don't even recognize you!" I smirked sarcastically.

We stepped out into the morning sun together. He held the door open for me, smiling shyly as he did so. It was a bit awkward waiting in line, neither of us having nothing to say. There were a couple of times where I had glanced over at him, and he looked as if he were contemplating some deep, distant thought, and it struck me as endearing. I had a feeling he was the kind of person who was always afraid of saying the wrong thing.

When we got to the counter, I smiled kindly at the girl taking my order. Ten minutes and two coffees later, we were back inside the van. I sipped happily, staring out the window. "I don't think I've ever met a girl who actually likes black coffee until now," Harry spoke up finally.

I blushed. The only reason I liked it was because my mother couldn't stand it. And I know that sounds pathetic, but after a while, the bitter taste grew on me. "Well, I've never met a famous person before, so we're even," I smiled, and brushed off my previous thoughts of my mother.

He turned his body so he was looking at me. "Hey, are you doing anything today?" My breath caught in my throat, his eyes smoldered under his lashes. His eyes were so beautiful. His brow furrowed in confusion as he stared at my astonished face. "Addison?" A smirk spread across his lips.

I snapped out of the trance his eyes had caused, shaking my head. "Y-yeah? Oh, N-no. I'm not doing anything today, nothing," I slapped my hands over my face. "God, sorry, I got really distracted for a second."

"Yeah, sure," he laughed. "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to...come over? Meet the rest of the boys?"

"The rest of them?"

"There's five of us altogether. Me, Louis, Liam, Niall, and Zayn." he smiled cheekily. "One Direction!"

I nodded. "Okay. Yeah, I'll go. Do they hide away in narrow passageways as often as you do?" I nudged his shoulder, and he nudged me back.

"Nope, that's only me," he laughed.

We reached downtown, where the van pulled up to a very swanky-looking apartment building. The difference between these and the ones I'd lived in for my seventeen years of existence, however, was the fact that his apartment wasn't overly flashy; they were effortlessly expensive.

"Home sweet home," I heard Harry mumble, and I smiled a little to myself. I said thank you to the driver, and jumped out onto the sidewalk. When he followed suit, I caught a glimpse of his pink striped Jack Wills boxers and I flushed bright red.

He saw my face and smiled confidently, noticing what I was staring at. I don't know why I was so nervous. Normally, going over to a friends house was no big deal for me, so why was this boy any different?