To Be Loved, To Be In Love. - (Starring 2/4 of One Direction) UNDER SERIOUS EDITING.

UNEDITED/DO NOT READ || Chapter 2 - The House Guest

Chapter 2 - The House Guest

Harry Styles

"The lad's weird, I'll give you that." I say, making a right turn on the road as I drive to school.

"He seems like a psycho killer to me. He'll probably just have us for dinner." Cher frowns on the passenger seat next to me and I can't help smiling when I glance to see her facial expressions. Too often, her glasses scrunched up on her nose make it hard for me to look away. "And you know what the worst part is? Mum would even let him eat us because she's too polite to say no." Huffing, she turns away to look through the glass and watches everything outside dissolve.

I chortle. "I don't think I completely agree with you. But on that note, I think your grandma's probably the one who'd literally just have you all for dinner one day."

"Wrong use of literally." She points out, turning to me.

As always, I ignore her criticism.

"What I mean to say is I don't get a bad vibe from him. I think we'd be great friends, him and I." Shrugging, I glance at her again, only to find her scowling at me.

"I can already see the two of you two walking right into the sunset. Harry and Louis, one epic love story." She clutches her heart, dramatically.

"It's Louis. The 's' is silent." I point out which makes her laugh for some reason. "What?" I inquire, slowing down the car to park it.

"It's funny how you felt it was more important to correct the pronunciation of his name, then to deny the gaymance I just narrated."

"Shut up." I roll my eyes and continue speaking to explain what I actually meant. "He'd be a great wingman. He'll even accompany to parties you're too chicken to go to." I say, turning off the engine.

"Sigh". She says it out loud, sighing nonetheless. "So you wouldn't mind coming to this dinner tonight too, would you?"

"I thought you'd never ask." I say with a smirk as we shut the doors and walk towards just the beginning of the endless day of torment.

***

After school, I drive Cher at the diner. The ride's quite silent since I'm a hundred percent sure she's sleep deprived and exhausted after attending lectures which somewhat went through her head from what I was told after every period. She and I, you could say, are inseparable. We fill each other on details ranging from as minor as having broken a nail or as major as moments of weakness.

I know how meaningless her "I'm fine" lies are which she seems to feed everyone all the time. And I guess she knows I don't buy that crap. But she's also aware that I never push her to tell me how she feels. We sit through hours of silence, I being there for her, reminding her how she'll never be alone.

Sometimes consolations aren't meant to be vocal.

We reach the diner and I walk in just to make sure the place isn't filled with pervs and that I am leaving her safely. Although I never fully feel content until she calls after getting home.

As soon as she opens up the door, the smell of coffee mingled with the smell of stew fills my nostrils. Mutton stew to be particular as I read the item written in a scrawl hand writing on the board with the heading, "today's special".

The place has been pretty much the same as far as I can recall. The fireplace and brick wall give the same warm home-like touch. It feels welcoming.

Yet the lack of customers says otherwise. This place needs some serious renovation. But from what Cher has been telling me, that's not on top of their priority list.