The Journey Of Love *Harry Styles Love*

Axle Winters has never been willing to love someone.
Never willing to trust someone with her heart.
But when she runs into a boy with sharp green eyes and curly brown hair, she forgets it all, and falls into the dream of Love.


10. 165998


I run into the Styles home, using the key I was given, and head straight to the telly. My phone rings just as I sit down and I look at the caller ID. It’s Harry. I press Ignore and turn on the telly to the channel where X Factor will come on. I wonder if it’s actually live.

Once I turn the volume on, I run up to the guest room, where I stay. I grab my belongings, and stuff them back into my suitcase, dragging it downstairs. But when I get downstairs, I’m in for a surprise.

I stand stock still, placing my hand firmly on my suitcase, staring down my stalker.

“Why’d you run?” He asks.

I shrug my shoulders, “I wasn’t needed.”

“Axle, you have to stop running.”

“What in the world makes you think, that you even know me?” I snarl.

Harry flinches, “I thought we were friends.”

I sigh, “Styles get back to your audition.”

“I’m not going back, unless you come with me.” Harry says stubbornly, his green eyes firm.

I growl, “You are not ruining your future, just for me Styles, now go.”

He sticks his tongue out, “You’re not my mum.”

“No, but I can call her to come and pick your bum up, and drag it back to the auditions.” I threaten, whipping out my cell.

Harry lunges for it, but I step back, and he crashes to the ground. My eyes widen and I’m down on my knees, helping him back up. But instead of taking my help, he just snatches the phone from me, holding it out of my reach.

I glare at him, “Give it back.”

“I will once we reach the building.”

“Seriously, Styles?!” I snap.

He nods, grinning, knowing he’s won.

I let the air escape through my clenched teeth and stand up on my own. I snatch my phone back, walking right out of the door, and my suitcase still sits in its original place…unfortunately.

Harold follows and when I reach outside, I stop abruptly.

“You,” I hiss, once I know he is right behind me. “Are going to pay.”

“I know, now come on.” Harry whispers joyfully and hops into the passenger side of the car.

I get in on the left side, right behind him.

“Axle, thank you for coming back,” Anne Styles says gleefully, glancing at her center mirror.

I give her a fake sweet smile, “Of course.”


We are now at the front of the line, or at least close to it, and the nerves are kicking into Harry. Seriously, every time his mum taps him on the shoulder, he jumps. Finally, I decide I’m going to go comfort the poor lad.

“Harry,” I call out to him, pushing past his pals.

He looks down at me, worry twinkling in his eyes, “Hey, Axle.”

I bite my lip, “Why’d you come back for me? You might’ve been missed your audition.”

“I had to.” Harry says, a slight smile playing on his lips.

“But, I’m a ‘nobody’.” I whisper, moving forward into the building now.

He pokes me softly in the side, “You’re a ‘somebody’ to me. You’re my friend, Axle.”

I shrug my shoulders and then focus back on the line.

I’m a friend of Harry Styles, interesting.

“Do you think you’ll pass as solo artist?” I ask without much thought.

“I dunno, hopefully.” Harry responds, crossing his fingers.

“Oh, Axle, you silly of course Harold here will get through!” Will’s voice cuts through our conversation, and my blood turns cold.

I turn and look back at him, “Thanks for your unwanted opinion.”

He smiles, “Anytime, Axle.”

I roll my eyes and face forward.

And then an arm flings itself around me.

“Harry, you’ll get in! Don’t worry, the lads and I got your back!” Will’s enthusiastic voice hits my eardrum.

“Thanks mate.” Harry smiles at Will, chuckling at the sight of my uncomfortable looks.

“Get your arm off of me,” I hiss, wriggling out of Will’s grasp. “I don’t want to get sick.”

Will cocks his head, “But I’m not sick.”

I glare at him. “Sure, Styles come on, it’s your turn.”

I drag Harry forward to the table, to get his number. He tells the lady his name and age, and who he’s brought with him. She nods, noting the information, and then hands him his number.

I watch him paste it himself and then we walk off. Had I known, those numbers would never be forgotten, I would’ve locked them inside of my brain.


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