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h-styles-babes · 7 years

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No Control | Chapter Twenty-Two

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

*This chapter marks the beginning of Part Two of the No Control series.*

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

TWENTY-TWO

February 2016

The air is crisp as it blows through the open windows of the flat. Los Angeles is already warm in the spring time, but the mornings are still a bit chilly from the temperature drop overnight. The sun is beaming in as well, making the space cozy and absolutely perfect for my one day off this weekend.

Trevor and I are sat side by side on the sofa, mindlessly watching episodes of Botched, a favourite of ours that runs marathons before new episodes every Sunday. Trev and I only ever have Sundays off together, so this is usually what we do all day, with the occasional pop down to the center of the city to do some sightseeing or messing about. We’ve only been in California for a little less than three months, having moved at the end of December when I finished my final semester at NYU. Trev made the decision to transfer after I got the job offer at the children’s hospital and started up at USC in the spring.

“I’m hungry,” he announced one an advert starts. I look over at him, where he’s slouched in only a pair of trackies and his classes perched on his nose, hair a mess. I’m not much better in my knickers and a t-shirt with the NYU logo on it, and knee high black socks to keep my feet warm on the cool hardwood floors, hair up in a half-arsed bun.

“Then eat some cereal,” I suggest.

“I want a breakfast sandwich, though,” he whines. “From that little donut shop down the street.”

“Then get your arse up and go get one.”

“I got them last Sunday!” he protests.

I roll my eyes and heave myself off the couch, something the steals my breath these days. “Fine, but you’re paying for them. My paycheck doesn’t deposit until tomorrow,” I remind him.

He nods and beams at me as a thanks for walking the few blocks to the shoppe. “There’s a twenty on my dresser. Thanks, babes!”

I trek into my room and pull on the first things that touch my fingers. Cut off shorts and a black jumper with the words ‘but ur not harry styles’ printed on the front in white—which would have caused me a lot more heartache a few months ago than the short, stabbing twinge I get now—that Trevor got me as a joke for my birthday in October (only days before my life had turned into an actual shit show). I take my hair out of the bun and pull on a maroon Yankees cap to try to tame the mess on my head as best as I can. Trevor’s twenty is right where he said it was, so I snatch it up quickly and pocket it along with my phone before slipping on my Vans at the front door.

“You want the regular?” I ask, nearly falling over standing on one foot.

“Careful,” Trev urges, shooting me a concerned glance. “And yes. If James is there, he’ll know what I want.” We’ve only lived here for a few months, and Trevor’s already got the guys working at this donut place memorising his orders.

“Alright. Anything else? Coffee?”

“Yeah, medium iced, please.”

“Got it. Be back in a mo’,” I announce, grabbing my set of keys off the counter before exiting the flat.

The shoppe is only a four block trip down from our flat, so it’s about a ten minute walk, foot traffic willing. On Sunday mornings, this area doesn’t tend to get too busy, especially before noon. It’s also slightly off the beaten path from the center of the city, straying into the Beverly Hills area, so tourists don’t really come out this way, unless they’re itching to get a look a celebrity.

The sun is a bit hotter than I anticipated, so I roll the sleeves of the jumper up to my elbows and continue on, smiling when I see that James is standing at the counter, chatting with a lady I see in there every so often. Her kids are sat nearby at a table, waiting patiently for their mum to bring back their donuts and chocolate milk.

There’s two people ahead of me in line, so I play around on my phone, taking my turn for a game that I’m playing with Georgie. The time difference makes getting back to each other in a timely manner a bit difficult, but, seeing as it’s already mid afternoon in England, I should get a play back rather quickly.

The bell jingles behind me as I step up in line to order. I don’t bother to look over my shoulder, almost certain it was the little family leaving since I saw them vacate their table only a few moments before.

James smiles at me and greets me like an old friend. At the rate we visit this place, he’ll be round our flat for dinner invitations and game nights in no time. Trev’s got a bit of a crush on him, since he really is a good-looking lad, but I can definitely tell that he isn’t gay. He flirts with me way too much for him to be into Trevor, no matter how many times I’ve made it painfully obvious that I’m in no position to be dating anyone right now.

“Hey, Micky, how’re you doing?” he asks, and a person behind me startles out a cough. I jump a little as I look over the menu, having not thought there was anyone behind me. “You alright, man?” James asks, brow furrowed in concern. The person must answer in the affirmative, because James focuses back on me.

“I’m good, enjoying my day off. Trev demanded a breakfast sandwich, so here I am,” I shrug, smiling at him.

“The regular, I’m assuming, then?” he asks with a chuckle.

I nod. “Yeah, Trev said you’d know. I want the same.”

“I can do that. Anything else?”

I play with the ring on my middle finger, something I haven’t removed even when all I wanted to do was scream at the person who gave it to me in a fit of anger. I have a feeling I won’t take it off until my fingers swell too much to keep it on comfortably. It means too much to me. It’s about the only reminder I have that that time in my life actually happened and wasn’t just some vivid dream—aside from all his band tees that sit in a drawer of my dresser and the ring on my right thumb.

“Trev wants a medium iced coffee, but that’s it.”

James types in the order on the register, and I see his eyes flicker to where I’m fidgeting on the counter. “That ring is really pretty,” he comments. He tells me the total before continuing. “I’m afraid to ask if they’re real diamonds.” He chuckles a little uncomfortably.

I look down at the ring that’s shaped like a tiara, that same twinge squeezing at my heart. I chuckle a little sadly before nodding. “They are. A friend bought it for me a while ago while we were in London. Harrod’s.”

His eyes widen as he takes my offered money. “Isn’t that, like, a luxury store?”

“Yeah, they sell a lot of designer stuff. Real expensive shit. Nearly have a heart attack every time I read a price tag in there,” I joke.

“No kidding,” he mutters. He counts out my change and hands it to me. “I’ll bring you your food when it’s ready.”

“Thanks, mate,” I say with a nod, moving out of the way for the person behind me. I go to find a seat at a two-person table, not wanting to tae up too much space.

My phone dings with a game notification as soon as I sit, letting me know that Georgie played. I see her move and groan when she racks up another thousand points. I’m absolute shit at this game, and I don’t even know why I put myself through the torture of playing against her. I just end up losing every time.

A throat clears right beside me, and I can sense the presence of someone from the corner of my eyes. “Just a mo’, mate,” I say, since I haven’t finished my go and I’m running out of time. I’ll be damned if I let some stranger mess up my chance of winning against Georgie for once.

“Just wanted to say I like your jumper.”

My thumbs freeze on the screen as I ear that voice again. A voice that I haven’t heard apart from videos and the radio for far too long. A voice that has my heart re-splitting in my chest and my stomach bursting out in a round of butterflies that feel way too much like nausea for me to be comfortable. I didn’t know what type of hold this man still had on me until this moment, and it is quite an unpleasant, yet totally expected, realization.

He pulls out the chair across from me as I remain speechless. He looks the same as he did when I last saw him face to face, back in August. Except he looks well rested, which is the opposite of how my last several months have been—and how my foreseeable future will be. He has his hair up in a bun today with a beanie over it, hiding his hair. His eyes are darting over my face, and I feel my throat constricting at the overwhelming emotion of being in his presence again after the complete radio silence over the last several months. I’m also praying to whatever god will hear me that he keeps his eyes on my face.

My phone dings, letting me know I’ve run out of time for my turn, and I’m not looking forward to telling Georgie why I wasn’t able to play this round. She’s going to shit a brick and then probably fly out to LA in the middle of her term just to rant and possibly hunt him down to kick his ass.

I feel my lips twitch to keep in the frown wanting to form on my face, my eyes filling with tears. I don’t know what to say to him or if I’ll even be able to form coherent words. All I can do is stare in the face of the man that broke my heart so quickly and easily, like it meant nothing to him.

His face is just beginning to blur as the tears threaten to fall when James comes over with my back of food and the cup of iced coffee. I thank him quietly as I pocket my phone and grab my items, getting up so quickly from the chair that the legs screech against the linoleum floor. I push past James, a little upset that I’ve acted poorly toward him, but needing to get out of there as soon as possible. The bell clangs violently on the door as I throw it open, halfway to the nearest crosswalk by the time I hear it bang shut.

I’m stabbing at the button to get the light to change when I hear him come up behind me.

“Micky!” he calls. I can hear his shoes quickly approaching on the pavement. I’d make a dash for it across the street, but the flow of traffic is heavy and I don’t feel like actually dying any time soon. It may be a better option right now, than talking to him, but I’m a big girl and can ignore my problems when they’re looking me in the face with the best of them. It’s what I’ve been doing for a while now.

“Mick,” he breathes out. I keep my back to him, hoping if I blatantly ignore him, while hiding the majority of me, for long enough he’ll get the hint. Unfortunately, I know him, and I know he doesn’t give up easily.

Except when it comes to me, of course. So maybe I’ll get lucky.

“Mick,” he tries again. I feel his large hand wrap around my shoulder, and I immediately shrug it off.

“Go away, Harry,” I demand, my voice shaky and less intimidating than I want it to be.

“Mick, I haven’t seen or heard from you in months,” he says, sounding like he’s pleading a bit.

The light changes at the crosswalk. I trudge off the curb and throw a “Yeah, well you made sure of that, didn’t you?” over my shoulder as I do a half-run across the street. I’m way too out of breath by the time I’m only a quarter way there, but I power through it.

I want him to stay back on the other side of the road, but I feel him beside me as I continue on the other side.

“What are you talking about?”

“Changed your number, didn’t you? Called one day and suddenly the number I was calling was unavailable.”

He groans. “I had to get a new number for security reasons. New phone, too. Lost your number in the midst of it.”

“That’s fine, Harry. I don’t want to talk about it. Actually, I just want to go home, eat my breakfast, and watch mindless reality telly for the rest of the day. So, if you don’t mind….”

We’re only half a block from my flat now, and I’ve never felt less thankful that I live so close to the beloved little donut place. I don’t necessarily want Harry knowing where I live, and I was banking on him giving up a long time ago.

“Mick, I’ve missed you, you have to know that,” He pleads, reaching out for my shoulder again. “I never meant to hurt you. I would never do that.”

“I don’t care anymore, Harry,” I tell him, digging in my pocket for my key to the gate when we come up to my building.

“Then why do you still wear the rings?” he asks pointedly.

I finally turn to face him, glaring and cradling the bag and drink to my chest. He looks a little taken aback at the fury I’m sure he sees in my expression. “Because they’re all I have left of you, Harry. Believe me, I wanted to burn them in a fit of rage, but Trev talked me down more than once.”

“Why were you so angry with me? I don’t understand. You had Paul’s number. And Grimmy’s. You could have gotten to me if you wanted to.”

“You think I didn’t try that?” I ask. “Every time I tried someone new, all I got was, ‘He’s busy. He’ll get back to you when he can,’” I say, imitating Paul’s thick accent. “But guess what? That never fucking happened, Styles.”

His brows furrow, dipping low on his forehead. “What? They never told me you called.”

I shrug. “I’m sure your management had something to do with that. Never liked me after the media got wind of us together. You could have just as easily gotten ahold of me. Grimmy had my number, too, yeah?”

“Mick—“

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it. Go have fun with your super model girlfriend and your trips to exotic islands on fancy yachts. You’re none of my business anymore. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with that lifestyle, anyway. Now, you’re raising my blood pressure, and I have specific orders not to do that.” I mutter the last part under my breath, thankful he seems to be clueless still and not wanting to draw attention to anything amiss.

“You know about Kendall?”

I roll my eyes. “The whole bloody world knows about Kendall Jenner, you dolt. Couldn’t fucking escape it even when I wanted to. It was the shitty topper to my already shitty year.”

“You have to know that didn’t mean anything to me. It was just a short holiday with friends.”

I scoff. “You mean how we were just friends and fucked each other for a week straight? And you mean to tell me those photos of you with your tongue down her throat were faked? Yeah, alright.” I want to laugh at how ridiculous he sounds, but I don’t have it in me to laugh right now.

“My family was there. It wasn’t like that.”

“You have all your flings meet your family, then?”

“Micky, I told you, you w—“

“Weren’t a fling,” I finish with a nod, cutting him off. “Yeah, see, you said that, but look where we are now. Kinda makes it hard to take your word for it. You also said we’d figure something out, and here I am, in February, not having spoken to you since September. I’m kinda over believing what you say.”

He growls in frustration and takes my face in his hands, his hold gentle for all the pent up emotion I see in his eyes. “Micky, knock it off.”

I scowl at him and move to jerk my face away. “Oh, fuck off.” Except my attempt to rear back from him is stopped by his hand sliding to the back of my neck and drawing me closer to him, pressing our fronts together.

I can see the moment on Harry’s face when he realizes something is out of the ordinary between us, aside from the food I’m still holding. His eyebrows pull together in the center and his mouth drops open. His eyes take on a stormy quality, the light in them dimming slightly as some sort of connections are made in his head. I feel his grip tighten on my neck. I try to scramble back a bit to try to rectify this situation, but I’m pretty much pressed up against the gated entrance of our building.

“Harry…” I begin in a warning. “How ‘bout we take this inside, yeah?”

His eyes narrow, looking nearly as menacing as I’ve ever seen him. “Got something to tell me, Micky?”

I swallow past the lump in my throat noisily. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

His nostrils flare and he takes his hands off of me, taking a step back. “Let’s go. I’ve got some shit to say that doesn’t really need an audience.” He nods his head to the side where a few people are lingering on the other side of the gate, looking at Harry and I curiously. I’ve got nosy neighbors, and he’s right.

So I nod and turn, finally gripping my keys in my hands and getting them into the lock. Harry, though he’s obviously angry, takes the bag and drink kindly, freeing my hands. I make sure the gate closes behind him and escort him to the stairs that’ll take us to my flat. He’s quiet as he follows behind me, probably seething, but I’m too scared to turn around and check for myself.

I hear the commentary of the patients on the telly, and Trev pops up into a sitting position when he hears the door open.

“Thought you might’ve got lost,” he teases, eyes still trained on the screen before him. “Took you a while.”

“Uh…” I trail off, dropping my keys in the bowl on the counter.

Trev finally turns around as the show cuts to the adverts, just as Harry closes the door to the flat. Trevor’s teasing smile drops off his face when he sees the man behind me.

“Oh shit,” he breathes out, eyes trained on Harry as he takes his beanie off and sets the food down on the counter. He throws a nod to Trevor, a slight smile on his face but otherwise still upset. “Oh…shit!” Trev’s eyes widen in realization as they shoot over to me.

I just clear my throat and nod. “Yeah.”

“Uh…” Trevor drags out, eyes darting between me and Harry, who are standing awkwardly by the front door. I can feel the anger radiating in waves off of him, but I know the type of cool exterior he can keep. His face is blank and the only sign of distress is the stiff set of his shoulder. I know Trevor can sense it, though, and he hops up from the couch. “Well, good seeing you, Harry. I’m sure you and Mick wanna talk, so I can either stay here and you can go to her room or I can go to mine and you two can stay out here.”

“I think Micky’s room would be best,” Harry admits. I think the same thing, since I’m sure there’s some yelling to be done that’s best to be done behind closed doors.

“Cool, cool,” Trev nods, grabbing the bag of food and his drink. “I’ll just watch…a war movie or something. Really loud. You two go chat.”

“Thanks, Trev,” I mutter, dragging my feet to my room. I hear Harry trail behind me, his boots clicking against the wood floors.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he offers.

“Will do.”

“And remember, Styles: You hurt my best friend, I hurt you. I like you, man, but I will not hesitate to kick your ass. I don’t care who you are.” He says it with a smile on his face, but there’s an edge to his gaze that I know is completely serious.

Harry’s eyes flicker with some sort of emotion and his mouth softens at the edges a bit. “Wouldn’t dream of hurting her, mate.”

Trev looks at him for a long moment before nodding his head once resolutely. “Good.”

TWENTY-THREE

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