vegas | H.S.

f e a r f u l i n t r o d u c t i o n s

a/n: above is an idea of what Harry's old family home will look like. Subject to change. - dani xo

c h a p t e r t w o 

Before today, my daily trips to Urban Decaf to score a cappuccino were always ordinary.

The shop wouldn't be crowded during the morning hours, which made my morning even easier. I was one of the shop's usuals, along with Sara, the future med-student who couldn't stop drinking her espresso, not for a minute when her finals were biting her in the rear.

Ashton, my neighbor and friend, worked from the break of dawn to serve customers like myself. I couldn't find anyone who actually wants to get up at four in the morning besides her, but she is a rather strange person anyhow.

As of now, Mr. Horan sent me a chilling email while I was sitting in the shop, practically saying that he was expecting me to actually question this Harry Styles, and to be quite frank, I don't want to. For all I know, he could murder me.

Liam attempted to reconcile, soothing my fears with his second offer to drive me. But again, I denied, seeing that I have to do this on my own, if I really want the job.

I'm starting to question my sense now.

"Vegas, you alright?" In the middle of a gulp of my second cappuccino, Ashton's South Shields' accent interjected.

I paused, my eyes jetting up to view her shaken expression.

"Ah, y-yeah," My fingers clamped to the glass mug, the warmth nearly gone.

"You don't seem too sure," She slid into the booth, placing her wooden tray to the table in the center of us. "What's the dealo?"

For a few seconds, I actually questioned whether or not, I should tell her the information. Ashton is a reliable listener, and makes the person of the hour a priority. Regardless of her job's demands.

Maybe, she will listen...

"I have to go to a certain address for my job," I told, taking a duration of the seconds of silence to swirl around the remaining coffee in a trembling circle.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"The house is in Holmes Chapel, and its in one of those houses in the scary movies," I referenced, hoping she would get it, and agree with me.

"And you are going alone?" She seemed concerned like a true friend should.

The pad of my finger circled the rim of my mug, an obvious object to imprint with my nervousness. "Liam offered to come along, but he has loads of work,"

As I turn my attention to view Ashton, her eyebrows were kneaded together. When she's thinking, she does this obscured thing of rubbing her chin as if she is in one of those cartoons. If she comes up with a helpful idea, she taps her own nose and her thrilling idea is spilled from her lips.

Like, now.

Just like I said, she poked her own nose, then lit up with a spark of intelligence.

"Why don't you just go to the house, then have your phone on standby to call the cops if anything happens?"

Not her best idea, but it's decent.

"I'll try that."

Within a couple minutes, Ashton is then called back to work. A few customers are begging for her to refill their mugs of the various coffee combinations and types. She said her goodbyes, leaving me to relish on her idea further.