Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Nine.

Lily's Pov.

I had only been in Harry's truck twice, once by default and now by total surprise. I was surprised that Harry had asked me to come with him after work because I honestly believed that he hated me.

Harry's truck smelled like him. The scent of his cologne seemed to stick to his leather seats. It was a pleasant smell, it had become my favorite in the short time I had known him.

I had no idea where he was taking me, but I was content with oblivion as he drove to our destination. His taste in music consisted of people screaming out their feelings and heavy guitar chords, and he sang along quietly. He had a good voice, but I would never tell him that.

"Why were you late this morning?" He asked. I watched his fingers as he tapped them against the steering wheel.

"Traffic was crazy," I lied. If I told Harry I had overslept, I would never hear the end of it.

Trying to be Harry's friend was exhausting. One minute he was completely fine, like the night we barely escaped that party. He was so full of life and his eyes seemed to light up as we spoke. But then he goes right back to the mean and cold Harry that I met the very first day at the police station. He said we could never be friends, but I made it my goal to prove him wrong.

"Yes! I can't believe this place is still open," Harry said as he pulled into the parking lot of a hut sized building. The lot was empty apart from Harry's truck.

"What is this place exactly?" I asked nervously, picking at a loose thread in the leather of his seat.

"It's a record shop," he explained. "When we first moved here, I used to come here everyday."

"It looks dead," I told him. He smiled as he helped my jump onto the pavement.

"That's the beauty of it," he said.

The inside of the place was dark and the air felt stuffy. The room had the same smell as if you were to open up an ancient library book. There were totes on a long table just filled with CD's.

Harry literally ran to the first tote and began flipping through it. The smile on his face was a genuine one, one that was extremely rare coming from his lips. He looked like a small child on Christmas as he flipped through the A's, pulling out a few records and placing them on the table beside him.

"The only reason this place is so dead is because people don't appreciate records anymore," he said. "You can just buy something so easily on your phone, it's ridiculous. Nothing is greater than organizing your collection."

I hadn't realized just how passionate Harry was about music. When I stayed at his house, he had a few records lying out on the table but I hadn't thought anything of it. By the time Harry made it to the front desk to pay, he had two large stacks of CD's.

"It's great to see you again, son. How've you been?" The man behind he desk was older and rugged. He had tattoos covering both arms and four piercings in each ear.

"I've been alright, Matty. I've missed this place a lot." Harry was beaming as the man rang up the CD's. This was Harry's safe place. I had never seen him so happy in the time that I have known him.

Since Harry had it good with the man behind the counter (who was apparently the owner) he got thirty CD's for ten dollars. He walked out of there with prominent dimples and glowing eyes.

As soon as he got into the truck, he rummaged through one of the bags. He quickly pushed one of the CD's into the player.

"Who is this?" I asked as he pulled out of the parking lot.

"The Killers," he explained as the sound of guitar chords began to fill the small space.

We drove around like that for awhile. He skipped the songs he thought weren't as important that I hear and I gawked at him as his deep voice sang along. He asked me how I thought about each one after they ended, a smile playing on his lips when I gave a good review and a frown when I disagreed with the song. The frown always came with a "are you kidding me? That song is great!" Or something along the lines of it.

I was seeing a side of Harry that I had never seen before. The Harry I knew was always so guarded and angry, the Harry that sat next to me now was free and giddy. I wanted this Harry all the time.

We had been driving around listening to CD after CD for almost three hours. I didn't mind, though. Who knew that hanging out with Harry Styles could actually be pleasurable?

"Are you hungry?" He asked, cutting off the music all together. I had been so hypnotized by the song playing that I hadn't notices that we were now parked in the parking lot of a diner.

"I could eat, I guess," I thought aloud. My thoughts were still on the song, and I was dazed as I climbed out of the passenger seat. How could the lyrics to something so simple hit me so hard?

"Harry, what was that song?" I asked him as we settled into one of the few booths at the back of the restaurant.

"The one that was playing when we pulled in?" He wondered as the waiter stood impatiently in front of our table. He stared at Harry with disbelief. As in he couldn't believe that I was here with a boy who looked like Harry. Sure, he had a lip ring and a lot of tattoos, And maybe he was a bit broody and didn't give off a great first impression, but he deserved just as much of a chance as anyone else. The waiter's judgement made me angry and it took a lot of self control not to ask him what the hell his problem was.

"Yeah, that one. What was it?" I asked as soon as the waiter was out of sight. If Harry had noticed it, he surely didn't mind.

"Woah, does Lily actually like a song that I picked out?" He was mocking me.

I rolled my eyes. "Just tell me what it was, Harry."

"It's called Exit Wounds. It's by The Script." He explained. He traced one of the tattoos on his forearm as he spoke. I was too far away to make out what it was. "They aren't really that great of a group, but I like the lyrics to that one song."

I nodded my head in agreement. "The song was amazing."

We both ordered a burger, and I laughed at Harry as ketchup dripped down his chin. He refused to let me pay for the bill no matter how much I argued with him. We walked out of the restaurant laughing at how ridiculous our waiter's hair looked. Usually, I would have stuck up for anyone being made of. He deserved it for being so judgmental, so I would let it slide just this once.

"You know, Lily," Harry said as he parked his truck in front of my house. "Just last week, I couldn't stand you."

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. "You aren't so bad yourself, Styles."

"I actually had fun tonight," he said. His eyes widened as if he didn't expect himself to say that. He pulled the CD out of the player and placed it in a bag, handing them to me as I stepped out of the truck.

"You want me to keep these?" I wondered, closing the door and leaning through the window.

"I want you to be able to listen to good music whenever you want," he laughed.