Begin Again [Harry Styles Fanfic]

Reunited and I Want To Puke

I got to work earlier than usual just because I didn't feel like sitting in my room staring blankly at the essay that I was supposed to start writing to weeks ago. It was due on Friday but I was at that stage of procrastination where you're just kind of like "Well, I've put it off for this long, another few hours or three days won't hurt." I'll just stay up really late Thursday night and bullshit my way through it. I honestly did even know what the topic was about. Something dealing with history so pretty much about a bunch of dead people afraid of change. 

"Well, well, well," Elana called out as she walked in, smiling brightly at me."Look who finally decided to bring their sexy ass into work early and be an over achiever with me!"

"Nice to see you, too, babe," I said as I walked over to where we kept our overly advanced coffee makers and turned them on so they could start to brew.

"But look at dat ass," she yelled loudly as she walked behind the counter with me, dramatically whistling. And that, basically summed up my relationship with the always perfectly gorgeous Elana Teal, my bestest best friend since they day I moved to America after the whole Harry-Styles-Fulfilled-My-Dreams-And-Then-Crushed-Them-Drastically fiasco. Which was exactly two years, four months, and six days ago. Not that anyone was counting or anything.

We'd already been open for two hours and we'd only had four costumers. The Big Apple didn't get much business. But, then again, we did pretty good considering we were a coffee shop named The Big Apple in New York City. The owners were never known for their creativity. We still didn't know why they choose that name. Dumbasses.

I stood behind the counter, nibbling on a cinnamon roll -- even though you're not supposed to eat on the job, I was a badass that did what she wanted -- and scrolling through twitter. The bell above the door rang and I looked up quickly, sliding my phone into my back pocket. What I saw made me momentarily freeze but only for a few seconds. I quickly ducked behind the counter, crawling on my hands and knees to the edge and peeking over it. Yup, it was him. It was the curly ass bitch face that ruined my life. Of all the fucking coffee shops in New York he had to come to this one. What a shitbitch.

Harry walked up to the counter and rang the bell, looking for any sign of life. Shit, I hadn't actually thought about him ordering. No one else was even there but me. I'd let everyone go on their lunch break. Shit. Fuck. Damn. He rang it again and I sighed heavily. He looked over the counter with wide eyes that seemed to be filled with terror and confusion.

"Lost a contact," I said as I stood up, sweeping the dust off of my black jeans and mentally slapping myself for never even considering running into again in my life. He was world famous, now. I couldn't go to Wendy's without seeing his face, hearing his name, or one of One Direction's songs being played on the radio. I'd moved for England to avoid him and now he was everywhere. Once a life ruiner, always a life ruiner, I guess.

It's not like he would recognize me even if he did remember me. I'd died my hair dirty blonde, gotten rid of the braces, and broken my glasses into two pieces. You could say that I blossomed -- or forced myself to blossom -- into a semi-normal looking, less rejected loser.

I suddenly realized that I had to be glaring at him for at least two minutes. "Is there anything I can help you with?" I asked, trying to sound as nicely as I possibly could even though in my mind I had grabbed him by his beanie and slammed his face against the counter. Multiple times. There was blood and pain.

He gave me a half smirk and my mind uppercutted him. "Uh, I'll just have a large coffee." I mentally stabbed him in the throat with a fork.

"Will that be all?" It was becoming harder to keep my voice sounding calm. 

"If you added your name and number, I wouldn't mind," he said with a cheeky wink.

I gagged and rolled my eyes before walking over to the stand where we kept the coffee cups. I quickly picked up one cup and signed a very specific name on it and waited for the coffee to finish brewing.