California Dreaming - A Harry Styles Fanfic

Chapter One - Different

- Harry -

 Her hair was a light shade of blonde, not a bleached tacky color, softer. The one thing that set it off edge though, was the streaking of a light, pastel pink that painted the ends of her hair and random sections here and there. Her blonde hair was so light the pink just blended into it perfectly, on most women it'd look cheap, but on her it looked great. Her hair was naturally pin-straight and thin, and long to a half-inch above her waist.

 Her skin was light, very fair and pale. Not a blemish or scar to be seen, other. The tone worked well with her light hair, but drew out her vibrant grass-green eyes even more, like a stroke of green paint on the white canvas of her skin.

 Her lips were full and dark. Not dark and sad, but naturally crimson, with a deep, intense look about them. From that minute so forth, I'd wanted nothing but to smash my pink lips into her beautiful, full ones.

 She was tall, and thin. Very thin, to be more specific. She wore a loose-fitting, wifebeater shirt, that I soon realized was a cut-up Sex Pistols tee-shirt. On her legs were cut-off, bleached, high-waisted Levi's that exposed almost a quarter of her bum from the back. One her feet her old white converse. Just like mine.

 I could make out every last crevice and curve in her collarbone that was so openly revealed. The skin on her torso being thin and smooth. Her elbows and knees were practically larger as joints than the actual bones they attatched, and her fingers the same way at the knuckles. She was hazardously thin, and it set an edge of concern off in my system, but I quickly blew it away.

 Zayn was holding an arm around her tiny waist, and trying to lift his rain jacket over her head as they came through the small doorway. Zayn slammed the door behind him and took his rain jacket off, shaking the rain droplets out of it before handing it up on the iron coat rack.

 I immediately stood up from the couch, the cold, wet air from the door opening and closing hitting my chest after a second, but then fading away thanks to the crackling fire in the fireplace ten feet in front of me. Niall was sitting next to me, and Liam in a recliner to my left. They both stood as well.

 "Who's this?" Paul, my manager, asked from behind me, as he quickly went over to the girl, who was shivering.

 "I just," Zayn stumbled, and thought. "I saw her out on the sidewalk when I was driving back from the Indian take-out restaurant, and she looked so cold, and I just-" He stopped himself, realizing her had no real alibi to his taking a beautiful, cold stranger from the side of the street.

 "Oh, so now we're just picking out girls on the street?" Paul asked in an annoyed tone.

 This wasn't why Zayn brought her home. This was why. Zayn had a very definite type. He liked these beautiful, hardcore-looking women. Spikes and studs, leather. You know, kind of tough, metal looking. This girl seemed to hit his key perfectly though. He'd check out a few pretty girls his type, here and there on the street while walking or driving, but not this time. Regardless of the price he'd have to pay, he picked her up, in his car, and driven her to our flat. Not only forgetting about the publicity she was to get, the paparazzis, the rumors, and the magazine front page covers, he still took this poor girl in his car, and drove her home. I sometimes wondered if he was actually delirious some times.

 This girl though, was different. I usually was into the cute, flirty, fit girl. Not these badass, metal ones Zayn was fond of, but there was something about this girl, that sent a throbing to my chest, and I don't know why.

 I picked up the knitted blanket that Niall had taken off him when he stood up, and rushed it over to the frigid beauty standing in the hallway.

 "Sorry about," I paused and looked away for a second, hovering near her ear. "Him." I said quietly, meaning Paul.

 "Miss, I apologize for Zayn's actions, I'm not entirely sure what had gotten into him. . ." Paul spoke. "Zayn." He glared in Zayn's direction.

 "Get her something warmer to wear, it's the middle of January in London, England." Liam spoke. "Might I ask what you're doing wearing this?" He said softly and smiled, gesturing to her outfit. There was something in his smile though, a bit too toothy, a bit too interested. I thought for a moment.

 Oh, not him too. A slight pang of something went off in my hands.

 I saw Niall out of the corner of my eye ruch up the small, white staircase, and quickly come down with a large, chanky sweater thirty seconds later. He eyed the girl meticulously as she took the sweater from his hands, pulling it close to her wet chest quickly. I hope Niall wasn't getting fond of her too. I really hoped.

 "I," She spoke but looked around the room carefully speaking, as if to check for something. "Don't know." She said after making sure the area was a self-proclaimed 'okay'. I caught the accent in her voice. American. Interesting.

 "What's your name?" Zayn asked, looking at her with a glint of hope flickering in his eyes.

 "Anaelle." She spoke quickly as she trembled a bit from the cold weather. The sound of her beautiful name swirled around in my mind. Beautiful name, beautiful girl. I licked my lips before looking at Zayn, who had an awed look in his eyes.

 Niall and Liam both smiled at her as Zayn and I managed to hold ours in. No one moved for a quick moment until she let her eyes surveyed the room, and us. She looked at each one of us and squinted her eyes a bit in a slight realization, I felt her gaze on mine for maybe a milisecond longer than the other boys. Seeding a drop of aspiration in me, before I let myself unacknowledge it. By the looks of her, she'd most likely go for Zayn. Him the most recalcitrant and hard looking of us all. Or maybe she'd switch it up a bit, and go for Liam. Totally flipping the card deck, the naughty girl for the sweet, kind-hearted boy. Either ways, I couldn't see her falling for a guy like me.