oh, anna [-hs]

ever since new york

a/n HARRY'S POV. this is a really long chapter :)

6.

Today is the last day of NYFW.

It weirdly feels like it's rushed by. All so quickly. From the moment she approached me, to today, I've barely had a moment to blink. She's different, strange, raw, interesting. I smile to myself. I've never met someone so carefree, who speaks their mind with such confidence.

Here she is now, turning the corner and making her way to her locker. I push myself up off the wall as she draws nearer. "Good morning, Harry Styles," she smiles, her bag and camera bouncing against her side. She flings open her empty locker and begins her habitual routine. She tells me she's not predictable, yet it's the same thing every morning.

"What's making you smile today?" I ask. She gives a happy shrug and makes her way over to the larger camera, leaning down into the control pad and adjusting levels and switches.

"Remember how I told you I was unemployed next week?" She reminds me. I nod, watching her movements hungrily. "Well, I guess I lied. I've been hired to film a music video, in France, I'm leaving in two days."

I feel my heart stop. "Wow," is all I manage to mumble out. I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't expecting her to suddenly disappear. Not when I'm just starting to really figure her out. "For who?"

"I can't tell you that," she smiles up at me playfully and hoists the camera up over her shoulder. I just stare, unable to move. She immediately senses my shift. I see her face scrunch up. She can read me like a book. "What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing," I brush away her comment. She stares at me a moment more, but nods. I change the conversation. "I like your earrings."

"Thank you!" She brightens up, shaking her head back and forth in appreciation. Today they are cigarettes pierced with metal wiring. I don't have to ask to know that they are real. They remind me of Wes, whoever he is. The one who makes her smell like him, who makes her want to cover up the smell of him.

"So, what are we filming today?" I ask. She tilts her head, the cigarettes swaying with her.

"Why do you keep coming back, Harry? As much fun as I'm having, you must be bored out of your mind all day." She chuckles.

Literally the exact opposite of that is how I feel. Even now, just getting to look at her, take her all in. I feel something in my chest that has never happened with anyone else. She is terrifying, and powerful, and soft all at the same time. And she can see right through me. The feeling I get from her, it's like a high. Maybe how I'm feeling is unhealthy, toxic, but damn it's going to make a good song. Suddenly I realize, I haven't answered her question.

"Vacationing in New York City alone can get boring too. You're by far the best local I've met. I figure I'll just stick with you, if that's alright." Until you leave for France in two days.

She rolls her eyes a little, but a smile remains on her lips.

We spend the day doing what we've always been doing. She films a model, a member of the public, a creative director, and I pass out consent forms where they're needed. It's a crucial job, she tells me, asking for consent. It's really fun, being her helper. We finish the first half of the day, and head out for lunch, when suddenly, she stops in the middle of the sidewalk, looking around.

"What is it?" I ask. She runs a hand through her hair.

"I don't want to go see Emma right now." She exclaims, and turns on her heel to walk in the other direction. I jog a little to catch back up with her.