Forbidden

Pistanthrophobia ~ the fear of trusting someone.

Aspiring writer Calida 'Cali' Mackenzie has it all; a beautiful New York apartment in Manhattan, a prospective job offer at the eminent Vogue magazine, surrounded by supportive family members and friends. Outwardly, Cali is flourishing.

What more could a girl want?

Inwardly, Cali's a wreck. After her last disastrous relationship ended in tears, Cali is determined to shut the entire world out. No more pain. No more mistakes. No more boyfriends.

She didn't count on Fate intervening; and Fate is desperate to entwine her life with that of serial heartbreaker Harry Styles... But with a prosperous career looming, Cali is unwilling to risk everything for a boy. She'll resist temptation, even in the form of curly hair and shockingly green eyes...

But when tragedy strikes, Cali will be forced to seek guidance in unexpected places and rely on people she'd never have dreamt of trusting in the past... Secrets will be revealed, friendships brok

1Likes
0Comments
494Views

1. o n e

 

-New York City, NY-

"I just think," Calida Mackenzie swallowed the last bite of her pain-au-chocolat with relish, "that if she said she wanted red velvet cupcakes, we should abide by her wishes."

Ryder Mackenzie looked exasperated as she glared down at her meagre portion of muesli. The two sisters sat in a booth of their favourite cafe in New York City, a tiny breakfast diner named 'Morceau de Plaisir'. "It's a complete nightmare. We know exactly zilch places in England where we'll be able to get them, and after a seven hour flight I'm not going to be in the mood for wandering aimlessly through the streets of London."

"There'll be tons of places, trust me." Cali insisted, tapping her well-manicured nails against the table, a gesture of impatience. Why wasn't Tristan replying? She rechecked her iPhone screen for the fifth time- no messages. She sighed and tapped him another message:

I'm not the one that's done something wrong here.. you need to realise that if we're going to sort this out.

Cali resisted the urge to add a snide remark and slipped her phone into the pocket of her black leather jeans. She had walked in Tristan, her long-term boyfriend making out with a Gucci model the previous day, and since then had heard nothing from him. She had expected, at the very least, a heartfelt apology and a plea to take him back. Though Cali was openminded about a reconciliation, she had no interest if he wasn't going to admit that he was in the wrong. Cali put the thoughts out of her mind before tears began to threaten; she had shed too many tears over that man before, and she certainly wasn't going to allow him the satisfaction of any more.

Ryder seemed oblivious to Cali's frustration; she was busily poking at her half-eaten meal and looking dejectedly at her lukewarm hot chocolate. "Fine. But don't blame me if we can't find any and have to resort to some crap leftover cakes from Marks and Spencer."

Cali checked her watch; their flight was due to leave in three hours, but the girls liked to be prompt. Throwing a wad of dollars down on the small circular table, Cali took a last gulp of her cafe mocha and stood up. "Coming?"

"Do I have a choice?" Ryder grumbled.

"Come on, Ry. It's Mama's birthday party. She'll expect you to be there, even..."

"Even if we haven't spoken a civilised word to each other since her last birthday party?!" Ryder pushed her hand through her cropped dark hair. The two sisters could not have been more different. Whilst Cali was tall and slim, with a torrent of aurulent curls, her sister was petite and buxom, sporting an elegant dark bob hairstyle. In personality, however, they were much the same- both brash and confident and determined.

"We better go," Cali reminded her, putting on a falsely cheerful tone, "Flight 815 isn't going to wait for us!"

*

Harry Styles awoke to find three brunettes sharing his bed.

Harry extricated himself from the jumble of bodies with ease; he had long since mastered the art of getting up without waking his bed partners. The three brunettes barely stirred as he plodded across the room and entered the bathroom. Yawning, he examined his face in the mirror. Turquoise eyes stared solemnly back at him. His dark curls fell in a tousled mop onto a face bronzed from recent days in the sun.

He combed his fingers through his hair, trying to ignore the niggling sensation in the back of his mind that was telling him he needed to be somewhere. There was something he needed to remember, something happening today that could not be missed...

Ten minutes later and freshly showered, Harry was just wrapping a bath towel around his waist when he heard his familiar iPhone ringtone, a tribute to his favourite singer, Elvis Presley.

"But don't you step on my blue suede shoes, you can do anything but lay off my blue suede shoes.."

"Shit. Shit, shit, shit." Harry raced into his bedroom and scanned the room, attempting to locate the offending device. The girls in his bed shifted, exposing the corner of his beloved phone, tucked beneath one of the women. He had no choice. Harry dove onto the bed, disrupting the pile of limbs and causing the girls to titter in delight as they awoke to find Harry Styles frantically scrabbling around beneath them.

"Sorry, my love," Harry apologised as he located the phone and pressed it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Harry," the lilting voice on the other line seemed, for once, entirely serious. "Where the fuck are you, man? We've been trying to get through to you for ages." 

"I was in the shower, mate." Harry yawned, readjusting the towel around his waist. He wasn't used to Niall being serious. Was he late for an important interview, a photo shoot? His mind was like a sieve; he usually relied on the other boys as a wake-up call. "Sorry. What's up?"

There was a long pause, followed by a slow intake of breath. "Harry. We're at the airport. Our flight leaves in like half an hour. Please God tell me you're joking."

Harry resisted the urge to throw his iPhone across the room. Shit. Shit. Shit. "Uhh... I'm joking?"

"Dude, you better get your ass over here in record time, or Paul's gonna have your head on a plate for dinner." And with that optimistic message, three dull beeps indicated that Niall had hung up.

"Ladies, I'm really sorry," Harry was already tugging on a pair of discarded black jeans, not bothering with underwear, "but you're going to have to go." He was already escorting the women to the door, shoving various undergarments and skimpy items of clothing in their direction. They sleepily nuzzled against him, giggling as he pushed them out of the door. He didn't have time. Shit, he didn't have time for this. He slammed the door on their pouting faces and raced towards his cupboard.

Two minutes later, he was desperately trying to shove his belongings into his suitcase when his mobile phone began to ring again. Swearing profusely, he grabbed the device and pressed it to his ear.

"What..?" He snapped.

"I've booked you another flight, which leaves in two hours. Flight 815, going to London Heathrow." It was Paul, professional as always. "And Harry, i'm beginning to doubt whether you're worth the trouble you cause. You realise the newspapers are going to go mad with this story."

"What, Harry Styles forced to catch later plane after oversleeping? I think they have better things to report then my sleep patterns."

"They're going to question why you didn't fly with the rest of your band mates. You remember what it was like..." Unsaid words hung in the air. When I was with Taylor. The thought felt like a stiletto dagger, stabbing straight in his heart. "There'll be rumours that One Direction are breaking up. It's not good publicity."

You cannot fathom the immensity of the fuck I do not give, Harry thought to himself"Rumours aren't going to kill me. I'll see you at Heathrow. Sorry for causing you so much trouble." With that, he hung up, left with an empty apartment and a heavy heart.

Taylor Swift had come into his life almost a year ago; she had caught him with her ease and her simplicity, and she had left him as quickly as a passing storm. She had been beautiful and fathomable and he had fallen for her as easily as falling asleep. And then she had taken his heart and smashed it into thousands of unsalvageable shards, and left him to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship. The thought of her still caused him immense pain. He had tried to drown his sorrows in alcohol, or drown them out with loud music and girls, but nothing worked.

He was half the man he used to be, relying on slutty girls and booze to mend a gaping wound that desperately needed to be stitched back together. He had shut everyone out, even his best friend and confidant, Louis Tomlinson. He was hollow, bleeding out emotions until he was empty.

"Pull yourself together, man," he told himself with a sigh. He had a plane to catch.

*

"Pull yourself together, girl," Cali urged her anxious sister. Ryder hated flying; her stomach churned at the thought of seven hours in a flimsy metal contraption, and though Cali rehearsed her its-the-safest-mode-of-transport lines continuously, Ryder could not be comforted. She sat curled up in her business class seat, a pair of headphones stuffed over her ears to block out the noise of the engines revving, biting her fingernails ferociously.

"I hate it, I hate it, I hate it." Ryder insisted, shaking her head. "And the only thing that comforts me is listening to Justin Bieber turned up to full volume."

"Why?"

"That, Calida, is one of life's greatest mysteries."

Cali smirked and pulled her phone out one last time. No text messages from Tristan, although her vigilant mother had sent her a message bidding them a safe journey across the Atlantic Ocean. Her heart sunk. Tristan clearly had no intention of sorting out their relationship. In all honesty, it had been falling apart at the seams for weeks. They barely talked to each other except to complain about the other's irritating habits, and although the sex was good, Cali had felt him fading away from her. No. She tapped out one last message to him before switching off her phone and tucking it back into her bag.

Leaving for england soon. See u when i get back so u can clear out ur stuff from my apartment.

She turned her head to stare out of her window, her last glimpse of her home city for a few days. New York looked as alluring and enchanting as always, and Cali hoped that when she returned she would feel ready to face the city and all the memories it held. She swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed back the tears that were threatening. And in that moment, Cali swore to herself that never again would she let herself become so attached to someone.

All they ever do is break your heart and leave. Men were nothing but trouble and heartbreak, and Cali was sick of aching. No more dashing young men would turn her head. No more troublemakers.

The air stewardess came striding past, asking her in a twangy Texan accent to fasten her seatbelt. Cali did as she was told and did the same for Ryder, who was already absorbed in her music and had turned a delicate shade of mucus green.

"It's going to be a lonely journey," Cali mused to herself, and she wondered whether she was just talking about the seven hour flight, or something else entirely. 

*

Harry settled into his spacious First Class seat with a smile of satisfaction. He had arrived at the airport right on time, unwilling to risk offending Paul any further by missing the second plane of the morning. As an air stewardess came to ask him in a nasal voice to fasten his seatbelt, Harry felt a sense of relief wash over him. He needed to go back to his home country, albeit for a few days. He needed to spend some quality time with Gemma and his Mum, and to see some of his old friends.

The next couple of days promised to be uneventful. And that what exactly what Mr Styles was looking for. Everything in New York reminded him of Taylor, and her constant presence in his mind was daunting. He needed to escape; something that was difficult to achieve as a world famous celebrity like himself.

Harry closed his eyes as the airplane engines began to gain momentum and Flight 815 made its methodical process to London Heathrow airport

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...