cherry red chapstick | h. styles

prologue

I sit here in silence, letting my mind process the past eight months and all the things that happened during it. I watch as the text cursor blinks on the blank document, taunting me to type something, but I don't know what to write. My job was to tour with the Sex Tapes and write a remarkable article detailing the experience and documenting their life on the road. This would boost our careers, but I got too caught up with the one person I told myself not to. The mother fucking, Harry Styles.

At first, I despised his guts because he would get on my nerves solely to get on them. I hated him because he'd always find a way to tease me:  how I looked, how my hair was, whether or not my glasses were bulletproof, and most of all, what shade my lips were. Oh, how infatuated he was with my lips that he called me cherry. He'd always stare at them when I spoke as if the words that came out of my mouth were pure magic. Then he'd smile when I told him to stop every time with the same cocky smirk that would catch me blushing every single time. But most of all, I hated how much of an impact he had on me and how much I miss it.

I miss it. I miss everything about it. I miss the chaos and fun he'd bring into my life every day. I miss how he'd show up at my hotel door after every show solely to talk or annoy me. I miss the talks where he'd ramble about something and flirt with me every two seconds. I miss when he'd listen to me like I was the important thing in the world at the time. I miss his sloppy, wet hair that I had to blow dry because it wet the pillows before we slept. But most of all, I miss him.

Now, I sit here a week after I said my goodbyes to him, with the pressure of writing something that reciprocated the impact he had on me. Instead of silence, the motivation of accomplishing the goal now replaces it as I type passionately and the click of my keyboard fills the air. I watch as the text cursor no longer has the time to wait to blink, and the words fill the blank document. I type with one thing in my mind- the green eyes that set eyes on my lips.