oh, anna [-hs]

miss you

a/n yo yo yo! here's the next chapter! 

15.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Mr. Styles?"

"Yeah?" His voice crackles from the other end.

"I'm in L.A., so now what."

"Wait, what?" I can hear him sit up abruptly, knocking something over. He curses.

"Hello?" I chuckle.

"You're here?"

"Well no I'm not like outside your house or anything. I'm at LAX, waiting for my bag." I look around the space. People bustle by, coffees and phones in hand, dragging their kids and suitcases behind them. "I'm here for work, but I thought I'd call and say hi, let you know."

From the other end of the line, I hear him moving around chaotically. In the background a few other voices are picked up, there's laughter. "Do you have a ride from the airport yet?"

"No," I smile. "What are you going to do, come pick me up or something?"

"Yeah that's the plan."

I laugh. "You can't, no."

"Why not?"

"Because you're Harry Styles. Besides, I'm going to rent a room and then straight to a meeting."

"I won't get out of the car. Let me be your chauffeur. Please?"

I sigh and kick the baggage claim belt with my foot, hoping the force might jostle it into motion and release my bag. "Fine. Gate ten."

"Gate ten." He repeats.

It takes twenty minutes, but I finally have my suitcase, and he's waiting outside. I match the license plate to the one he texted me and climb into his car. He grins at me.

"Hello, uber for Ms. Bellini."

I laugh, "Thank you."

"How was your flight?"

It's strange how normal this feels, like we picked up right where we left off, even though it's been a month and a half since we've seen each other. I glance over him. He's wearing the yellow corduroys he bought when we went out together, a banana yellow Led Zeppelin shirt and a blue Hawaiian button up hangs loosely from his shoulders. "It was good," I finally respond. "They ran out of Ginger Ale by the time they got to me, but it wasn't the end of the world."

He steals glances of me at stoplights, trying to keep his eyes on the road. His right hand rests on the gear shift, his thumb rubbing soft circles into it. That makes me think of that time when he held my hand in his apartment, he did the same pattern on my skin. And then my mind goes back to the infamous phone call I made two weeks ago. The one I don't remember. I look awkwardly at him.