Little Miss Youtube (Harry Styles Story)

Chapter Six

Hallie's Point of View, Eight Months later.

 "I love you too, Daddy," I said, before hanging up the phone. I sighed, flopping back onto the bed of my flat. I had moved here, to London, about five or so months ago, and missed my old home terribly. As awesome as London was, I was homesick, and still hadn't decide what I was going to do with my life, other than be a YouTuber.

 I sat up, walking over to my closet and pulling out a pair of black skinny jeans and an old Beatles tank top. I slid them on, adding music note suspenders. (I told you a while ago; I have a lot of suspenders.) I pulled a lot of bracelets onto my left wrist - I had more cuts - and grabbed a nametag sitting on the dresser, pinning it onto the shirt. "Hallie" it read in bold letters, all capital. In much smaller letters underneath my name it read "Favorite music: One Direction, Beatles, Fall Out Boy, 5 Seconds of Summer".

 I walked out into my kitchen, grabbing a granola bar. I held it between my teeth as I sat on the back of my couch, shoving my feet into my converse. I grabbed my bag, leather jacket, and keys from by the door, slinging the bag over my shoulder. Finally, I stepped out of the little flat, locking the door behind me, and opened the granola bar as I walked down the hall, the stairs, and finally, into the slightly chilly London morning.

 I wasn't entirely sure why my father had called me at what would be four in the morning in Florida. All I knew was that it was nice to talk to him.

 I walked the two blocks to the music store where I worked, Flashback, a few blocks from my house. (A/N: My cousin, who lived in London for a while with my uncle and goes to visit a lot, claims this is the best music store in the city. I dunno, never been to Europe, so I'll take her word for it. All details that I don't know - read: most of them - are made up.)

 I walked in, heading towards the counter. Mike, the manager, poked his head out of the stockroom. "Hey Hallie!" he called. I waved back, before pulling up the stool behind the counter and sitting down. I propped both elbows on the counter top, tapping my fingers. The day had only just begun, so it wouldn't be busy for a while.

 Fifteen minutes later, Calum wandered in, waving to Mike and I, and collecting a box of vinyls that needed to be sorted. He disappeared into the basement, where all the vinyls were, and I knew the boy wouldn't appear again for at least an hour.

 About fourty-five minutes after Calum's arrival, Iz finally showed up. Mike had just emerged from the stockroom when she ran through the door, a splash of color against the grey London sky. Mike crossed his arms, glaring playfully, as Iz gasped out an excuse for being late in her Irish accent that both Calum and I were jealous of.

 "I lost me way, I swear!" she cried, "Kale's house is at a different stop on the metro than mine is, and I got mixed up." Kale was Iz's boyfriend of two years, so I very highly doubted that she had gotten lost on the way. However, Mike just rolled his eyes and took the excuse, like the good natured person he is.

 "Sure," he said, waving a hand in the air, "don't let it happen again." This was a joke, seeing as Iz was late about ninety-eight percent of the time, and we both let out a small laugh. "Take over the counter for Hallie. I need her stocking shelves," he added.

 Iz groaned. I knew she hated running the counter. While I enjoyed stocking shelves, and had wandered the store enough times in my five months of London, that I knew where things went much better than Iz, who had worked here since she was barely eighteen, did. (She had turned twenty-two about a week and a half ago.) 

 "It's okay," I said quietly, "Iz can stock shelves." Mike sighed and nodded,  motioning for her to wait a moment. As soon as he disappeared into the store, Iz smiled, wrapping her arms around my waist and squeezing tightly.