Life of Mine. [Harry Styles]

3. Lost Friendships and New Music.

Harry POV.

It was cold in New York.

It was late August, and after all the muggy dog days of summer, it was already getting cold. The people were getting colder, and already ordering pumpkin spice lattes and wearing those furry boots.

Like most days, I wandered the city alone. I was looking for myself this year, and hadn't quite found him. Harry Styles got lost somewhere in the past five and a half years in interviews and media training and fake girlfriends. I didn't do as much writing as I had hoped. Unlike my fellow bandmates, people didn't take my writing so seriously, and didn't let me write very often. I wanted to become the artist I had been trying to be for years, and instead, I was the world's favorite womanizer. As if.

I don't know how the hell I ended up in SoHo that chilly, late-summer evening. I had tried everything for inspiration. I drove to Ithaca, Niagra Falls, Boston, Philadelphia...nothing. They all had great stories and great people, but I couldn't connect in the way I wanted so badly. So I was going back to cliché places such as parks and coffee shops.

Niall wanted to meet at some random ass coffee shop in SoHo, of all places. He liked to go out, and he was surprisingly good at avoiding mobs of fans. I secretly missed encountering fans on a regular basis. As exhausting as it often was, most of them were so genuinely supportive and loved us, and it always amazed me. It was like we were connected on a level so deep, none of us quite understood it.

I walked down the street toward the coffee shop slowly, taking in the sight around me. The buildings were tightly packed together and people walked alone, deep scowls on their faces. I wondered if something was really wrong or if it was a rule to scowl in New York. People were friendlier than I expected, but did not mess around when they were in a hurry. I respected it.

My phone rang, snapping me out of my trance. I expected to see Niall's face pop up on my screen. I was fifteen minutes late for our six o' clock dinner at this little coffee shop, and he hated when I was late. It was usually the other way around. Instead of Niall's face, it was Louis'.

I pushed decline.

As I reached the coffee shop door, Louis called again. I knew I had to answer.

"Harry speaking," I faked a chipper tone.

"Harry Edward Styles, I know you did not just ignore my call," Louis snapped loudly.

"I'm meeting Niall," I answered shortly, rolling my eyes. Louis hadn't called me since my birthday in February. What could he want now?

"Niall can wait," his voice raised even louder. "Are you guys still in New York?"

"Yes," I leaned against the wall next to the door. As angry as I was with my best friend, he was right. Niall could wait. "Louis, why are you calling?"

"I miss you," he answered simply, as if it was obvious. "We haven't spoken in a while."

"When's the last time you talked to Zayn?" I snapped.

"I don't know, few weeks ago, why?"

"Exactly." I hung up and turned the phone off.

I entered the coffee shop more upset than I had been all year, and not even Niall's huge smile and wave cheered me up. I rushed over to the table anyway. Niall was a good friend to have.

"Hey bud," Niall grinned and pushed a plate of salad towards me. "I ordered your food since you decided to be late."

Did I want to mention my call with Louis? I wondered when Louis and Niall had spoken last. Niall likely would have told me if they had spoken, so I guessed not. Before I could answer, Niall's eyes lit up and his head craned under his shoulders like they did when he had a secret.

"That girl over there," Niall gestured across the shop at a girl sitting alone, scribbling away in a notebook.

She was beautiful. Long, curly, chestnut hair, light brown eyes, slender frame. She was focused on her writing so intently, the way I used to be. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her lips were slightly parted, and her legs were crossed, foot shaking over her leg.

"What about her?" I asked, turning back to Niall.

"I met her earlier today," Niall grinned. "At Starbucks. She was adorable. She babbles like a brook, that girl."

I chuckled at my friend who always had the strangest expressions.

"She's hot," I commented, trying my best not to stare.

"She's a little awkward, but yes, hot as Los Angeles. Speaking of which, Louis called earlier to ask if we wanted to come to LA for the holidays. I figured we could make a little trip there before going back to the UK for the holidays?"

"Wait...Louis called?" I took a large bite of my salad to remain calm.

"Yeah, he said he was going to call you later. Did he?" my clueless Irish friend stole a bite of my food.

"Yeah, a few minutes ago," I confessed.

"Well, what did he say?"

"We," I sighed, thinking of the best way to explain. "We got in a little argument."

Niall rolled his eyes so hard I'm surprised they didn't get stuck. "Again? What about now?"

"It was more like I'm done with his bullshit. Completely done." I sipped my water.

"You two have been in a fight for like a year. You can't keep doing this, we have to get back together soon."

"He doesn't listen to me." I shrugged nonchalantly.

"You don't listen to him either," Niall threw a crouton at me.

"That's bullshit," I shook my head.

"Is it?" he pushed up his fake glasses. "Haz, nobody has a friendship like you and Louis. You guys are throwing it away over the dumbest shit."

Maybe Louis really was trying to save our friendship. But I didn't know if I even wanted that friendship anymore. I wanted One Direction. I loved touring with them and our voices were a mixture so unique that only God Himself could've brought us together (and also Simon Cowell). I wanted to be in the band, but my only real friend in the band was Niall.

I looked over at the pretty writer girl again. The way she seemed to know exactly what she was doing while writing calmed me down in a strange way. Maybe this really was just writer's block. I couldn't help but think maybe, if I started being the person I wanted to be, I could write like that again.

I wanted to know what she was like. I bet she was graceful and smiled easily and wise beyond age. She also looked independent and free. I didn't know her, but I wanted to.

And before I could go introduce myself, show her I wasn't just some shallow celebrity, and sweep her off her feet, she packed up her notebook and left.

Even still, I think I finally had something to write about.