ripped jeans | hes

three

 hope you have a good read!!! xxx -g

burgeon (verb) -begin to grow or increase rapidly; flourish

Addisons's POV

"I think you have the wrong number, my friend." I began to make my way over to my bed. God, it looked so soft. "It happens to the best of us."

"This is Addison Montgomery, no?"

Ah. Di. Sun.

Wrong number calls happened all the time, so I didn't think much of it. But there was something different about this one. It didn't feel like a mistake.

That thick British accent and slow-paced voice that poured over the phone compelled me to stay on the line.

I jumped into my soft and airy bed, fascinated by my mysterious caller. "Who are you?"

I heard some light muttering in the background. I picked up my hearing, trying hard to listen on the distant conversations but was unsuccessful.

"It's Harry. Harry Styles."

He said it as if it were a question.

"Harry Styles?" I paused, trying to think of that chillingly familiar name. "I'm sorry, but I don't think-"

"No, no," he rushed, his syrupy voice raising slightly. "We met at a restaurant in LA when we were both 18. My friends dared me to get your number and I sat at your booth."

Harry Styles.

My jaw instantly dropped. "Harry?"

"Yes." He chuckled, sounding almost relived. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

I tenderly shut my eyes as he softly spoke, hoping that it would help me remember what he looked like. 

Harry Styles, the hot British kid with beautiful hair, rowdy friends, and piercing green eyes, who had kept me company while my date never showed up.

I couldn't help but laugh at the odd situation. 

I hadn't seen or heard from Harry for three years, and here I was, with only a faint memory of Harry to entertain my growing thoughts, on the phone with him.

"Woah, yeah, hi." I awkwardly laughed once more. I flicked myself for sounding like such an idiot. "I didn't really think I'd ever hear from you again."

Harry chuckled softly. "Yeah, me neither."

"You kept my number after all these years?"

"Yep." he chuckled. "Sorry for not giving you a ring sooner."

"No worries." A few seconds of cringingly awkward silence. I picked at the ends of my hair before bluntly speaking. "Why are you calling?"

"My friends dared me to." he laughed and so did I.

I was still completely dumbfounded that I was talking to him. "So, how've you been?

"Too complicated to explain over the phone."

He said it as if he were going to tell me in person.

"Try me." a mischievous smirk grew on my face. "Just give me the laconic version."

"Trust me, I wouldn't want to bore you with the details." He assured me, and I decided to believe him.

His voice was a lot slower than how it last was, his voice pronouncing ever word carefully and delicately. His pleasing British accent was still lovely, and his voice seemed handsomely deeper and raspier.