Part ten

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Indie

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I course through the dead streets, pressing my petal with concentration. It excels me further, pushing the limits set by the laws. I brushed it off though, kicking my leg up with nervousness.

With the strain I can already feel my old van depleting, begging me to slow down or change the oil for fucks sake.

My hands wander to my curly black hair, securing it in an awfully messy bun slopped on my head. I grimace at the frizz, wiping my face clean of my old makeup from last night I'd slept in. I looked like shit, zoned out of my mind.

Speeding faster, I scramble to fix my un-presentable appearance, glancing over and my bag in the passenger's seat and freshening up. Coming to a quick stop when I see the obnoxious beam of Clementine's glowing neon red sign. It lights up the surrounding, blinking and so damn straining to my hungover eyes. Even with its tacky-ness, a magical feel surrounds it, red glow mixed with the darkness and downpour. Wincing at its upfront-ness I pull into the dingy parking lot, parking like shit and then rushing out of my car. I throw my canvas bag over my shoulders, sprinting through the frivolous downpour to the back lot where the slightly less rough green exit sign is. I sigh in relief, wafting the small drops of condensation off my shoulders and hair.

One of the other busters leaned against the brick wall, chatting away on their cell whilst a cigarette stays glued between their lips. I nod politely, pushing past to fling open the industrial grey door.

In an instant, I'm greeted with the warming heat of the kitchen, and an intense smell of fresh baked goods. I lock my stuff up, throwing on my cherry red apron with Clementines printed in bubble letters. Washing my hands in the metal sink and clocking in.

I sit next to the expo, tying my unlaced docs. "Hey!" Styles exclaims, coming out of the manager's office. He's wearing a beanie and a matching red apron folded in half. I wave, taking the pen from my mouth and shoving it into my apron.

"What's up." I greet, focusing on my shoes.

"Didn't think you'd make it for a second there, thought I'd have to take your section." He mutters, scratching the back of his neck. He walks over sitting across from me on the other bench, resting his elbows on both his knees.

"Yep, sorry I'm late... Went out last night, didn't get home till like ten in the morning, and slept all day." He makes a face at my words, raising his brows.

"Rough." He elaborates, I nod agreeing with him.

"Uh-huh, and my shit car didn't want to start with the fucking layer of frost over it.." I complained further, taking the old receipts from my apron and chucking them into a bin.

"Fuck... my car does that too," He groans "You drive the Orange VW van right?"

"Yep," I reply

"Hm, I suppose birds of a feather have to stick together." He grins, untying the red apron from his neck.

"Huh," I huff out.

"You and Magnolia both have VW's." He clears up, wrapping the apron around itself and tying it closed.

"Oh.. yeah... We do..." He nods his head at the obvious "You know Meg copied me right? I had my van before she got her beetle, real shithead." I joke, raising my brows.

"She respects you... Looks up to you." He mumbles, I turn my head at him furrowing my brows.

"And how do you know such a thing?" I pester, he shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno, it's just kind of obvious.."

"How so?" I press

"Well, for starters she got the same brand car as you. But also... I think um... She just..." He pauses, turning the ring on his finger. "Looks up to you.." Harry trails off, searching for his lost words. I leave the question unanswered, nodding at his bleak response.

"So.. how did you and Meg get to be so close anyway.." I grin, challenging him. He pierces his lips, trying not to smile.

"We're not close..." He corrects,

"Oh, you're not?" I smirk

"No, I mean not really... I haven't got to know her... We just ran into either a few times. Had simple conversation but that's really it." His voice stays monotone but his eyes light with the topic.

"Hmm," I pace "You know the first time you 'ran into each other' you really had her fuming. When she told me about the jerky jock that interrupted her training I certainly didn't think it was you... I'm sure she still thinks you're just some asshole meathead..."

"She said that..." He recounts, letting out a breathless sign. With the newly forlorn look in his face I wished I would have delivered my words less seriously. Unlike Meg he struggles to pick up my sarcasm.

"Not directly, but she did mention how you were like a big angry toddler stomping off." I chuckle, seeing his face drop a bit. He fixates on the floor before letting his eyes track my own.

"I suppose I should have apologized for my rude behavior. But she wasn't very sweet considering." The second his words come out he smirks.

"Cheeky that one..." Harry continues, popping a singular dimple.

"She's got a bit of a god complex, but it's not really her fault..." I state, scrunching my nose at his expression. His brows shoot up in faked surprise, only now do I see how enlarged his smile has become, the star of the show. Outshining his eyes which usually took the attention.

"Wow. I never thought the adored Magnolia would have a god complex." He sasses, sarcasm pouring from his sharp tongue.

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After a series of hours, I had finished my shift. Thoroughly tired of pouring coffee and snacking on the miniature croissants I clocked out. The sun peeked over the horizon, slowly starting to brighten the cold uninviting sky. With the night of constant rain, the streets were bare, slick with freshly frosted over ice.

Right as I'm about to pack up Styles rushes out from the front house, nodding as he stamps his paper to clock out.

I can see the sleepy-ness through his eyes, his cheeks flushed from the lack of sleep. "So Cheech," He smiles at his own nickname for me, I roll my eyes, fixing my coat around me.

"I was thinking of having a party on Friday, I think you should come to make an appearance.." I nod, puffing my lips to the side.

"Yeah, sounds fun. Just text me the deat's." Fully drained, I show him a tired smile. He gives me the finger guns, grinning a full, implying simper.

Harry starts to trail off, walking out the door. I follow him, turning left to face my car. I walk further, tucking my coat. Letting out my breath, It wafts back at me in vapor.

"Oh!" He calls after me, I turn to face him. Shuffling closer to hear through the sprinkling pitter.
"And make sure to invite the ice ballerina.." I snorted at his remark "Sure thing pal.." I chuckle, he smiles trudging off to his jeep.

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