I Hate You (Larry Stylinson) ✅

4. baby

Feb 1 (continued)

My coworker decided to switch lunch breaks with me, so I ended up getting off at 12:40pm instead of one.

I still wanted to wait until 1pm, you know, to see if I could do it, so I headed out to the back of the cafe for a smoke.

Usually, there's no one around.

The only other store that has a back opening is a nail salon, and hardly anyone comes out of there, aside from one guy who occasionally takes a smoke break and has a screaming match with his girlfriend over the phone in a foreign language.

I light up and close my eyes, bringing the cigarette to my lips. It's kind of fucked up but I've found that cigs work well as an appetite suppressant.

I know it's kind of cheating, but sometimes I'm so hungry I can't take it, and this is my solution. And I've always been a big smoker anyways.

It's so blissful, so relaxing. I crave the release.

Unfortunately, my five minutes of solitude are interrupted when I hear voices coming from the parking lot nearby.

It's the voice of a man and a woman - though I can't really get a good look at them. They're behind the nail salon, on the opposite side, which is out of my view.

Rolling my eyes, I go to take a peak. Who the fuck is out here ruining my smoke break?

As the side of the building comes into view, I do a double take. This has to be a fucking joke...

I blink my eyes twice, just to make sure I'm not on camera for some sort of dramedy film or a reality TV show called 'How many times a day can we drive Louis Crazy?'

This is just too crazy to actually be real.

But it is. Sadly enough. As I re-open my eyes, Harry is still standing there against the wall with Eliza.

He's not just standing there either - he's having a conversation with her. A loud conversation. In fact, if I just inch a little bit closer, I can start to make out the words.

"Liza, please, baby," Harry says. This is the first time I ever heard Harry speak with any form of emotion or intonation.

His face actually seems to be showing emotion too. The pouty, conceited smile he usually sports is now gone, and has been replaced by wide eyes and a distraught looking frown.

"No," Eliza replies. Her voice is high-pitched, piercing, a comical juxtaposition to Harry's baritone. "I fucking told you, Harry. I don't want you to be a part of this."

Be a part of what?

I shouldn't be listening to gossip and I've definitely gone over on my lunch break, but I don't care.

This is just way too juicy to pass up. And if I could simultaneously be entertained and get some real dirt on Harry Styles?

That would be like winning the fucking lotto.

"Liza," Harry repeats. He's grabbing her face now, gently.

Their faces are so close that it looks like they might kiss, but based on Eliza's angered expression, that won't be happening anytime soon.

"I apologized so many times," he says. "You don't even have to forgive me... you can still hate me... but please, just let me have this."

I put my cigarette out, crushing it on the pavement with the heal of my sneaker. Is someone ever going to explain what the fuck this conversation is about?

"Harry, I seriously need you to get your hands off of me," Eliza snapped. She removed his hands swiftly, and Harry took a step back, placing his arms across his chest.