Unfortunate Love (One Direction)

Chapter Two - Harry Styles?! Seriously?!

Charlie's P.O.V.

I debated whether or not to run away right then. I mean this was a guy that used to be in a boy band that my friends would obsess over when I was 12. He's that pus-cat loving, man-whore that the media always had a story on. Didn't he date a woman like 15 years older than him when he was 16? Well I guess an old dog doesn't learn new tricks. Although he has improved from a 15 year age gap, to an 11 year age gap. This is unbelievable.

"Hello, Charlotte." He greeted with a low and raspy voice. Does he have some kind of sore throat? He hadn't changed much from when he was younger and was on magazines all the time. His cheek bones were a little more defiant, like the baby fat finally melted away. He was still tall and lean, which is what I was able to learn when he stood up to pull me into a suffocating hug. He smelled like aftershave and Tide detergent. "It's so great to finally meet you." He said in my ear very quietly.

"Um...you too, I guess." I replied. Harry finally released me and then gave my mom a quick peck on the lips. If that doesn't make your stomach churn, there is something wrong with you. I sat down on the booth opposite Harry and my mom, who were holding hands in the open for all to see.

"How was grade 12?" Harry asked. I squinted and tried to understand what he meant.

"Grade 12?" I repeated.

"Your senior year." My mom clarified. Harry nodded.

"I forgot your schooling is much different from England's schooling." Harry apologized. That's because last year you were in high school. My mind mocked him but I didn't dare say anything like that out loud.

"Um, it was fine. Nothing special." I replied.

"And your Uni choices?" He asked. I frowned again.

"He means where you're going to college." My mom interjected before I could ask what he meant. It was like he was speaking a different language and my mom was his translator.

"Well I'm going to school in New York City so I won't be far from home." I said, emphasizing the word 'home'. My home was New York, not London. My mom looked agitated, like she was still nervous about this meeting. Well she should be, I'm not enjoying myself.

The dinner was mostly talking about me so Harry could get to know me. I didn't like talking about myself because I'm quite boring. I'm not talented in anything and the only thing I'm good for is making dinner for myself and Blake when neither Dad nor Heather would be home.

We did talk some about Harry, for my 'benefit', but so far I could care less what his favorite type of pizza was. I learned he owns a recording label with his friend and former band mate Liam Payne. They both had the idea to continue in the music industry while Zayn Malik went to modeling, Louis Tomlinson went to acting and Television Presenting, and while Niall Horan focused on his family. They all were still very close, says Harry, and get together to have a boys' night at least twice a month. They stopped making music and stopped the band about two years ago. It was all perfectly useless information.

We stayed at the restraunt for quite a while, chatting about random things. I smiled maybe twice. I don't like the fact that my 35 year old mother would be marrying some famous, billionaire 24 year-old whom my friends used to drool over. He's nice though, nicer than I'd hope. I wished he would be mean to me so that my mom would see that and then call off the wedding for the good of her daughter, but Harry is pleasant and interactive. He likes to know how you are and likes to know if there's anything he can do for you. He's, sadly for my case, a nice person.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" My mom said to Harry outside the car. I was sitting in the front passenger seat, my arms folded across my chest, frowning. They were saying their goodbyes, taking forever.