Hello. I hate you. Goodbye [A Harry Styles love story]

About fourteen years ago, Evangeline Jay Mason moved with her father from her hometown, Holmes Chapel. When she left, her best friend, five-year-old Harry Styles, gave her a present to remember him by. But as Evangeline goes into her junior year of the prestigious arts academy known as Lumen High, her old friend finds his way back into her life, and possibly her heart.
The only problem: Evangeline doesn't remember Harry, and he doesn't remember her either. And Evangeline has an extreme disliking to a certain boy band...
Will Harry and Evangeline remember their pasts? Will old promises be kept? Will a lifelong friendship blossom into love? Will Niall ever stop eating all the pizza?

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2. Long Time No See

                -Evangeline-

                The gentle chiming of the grandfather clock in my room woke me up.  I sat up and stretched luxuriously, my lean muscles rippling at the movement.  Rubbing a hand over my eyes, I looked at the mahogany clock that was on the other side of my spacious room.  It informed me that it was five a.m. exactly.  I nodded in satisfaction and climbed out of bed, heading past the elegant dresser and vanity in order to get to my adjacent bathroom.

                As I stepped into the marble-floored room, the lights automatically came on, dimming up slowly in order to get my eyes accustomed.  I turned on the shower, removing my silk nightgown before stepping under the relaxing spray of hot water.  Rinsing my hair and then running my loufa over my body, I soon stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around me.

                I headed to the Victorian era wardrobe that took up a good deal of my elaborate room.  Opening it up, I picked out a black and red plaid miniskirt, a short-sleeved white dress shirt, and a red blazer.  From the drawers underneath, I also grabbed a bra and undies before laying it all out on my king-sized bed.

                Pulling all the clothes on, I then headed back into the bathroom, where I stopped in front of my huge mirror to check my hair.  My hair was honey blonde and fell down to the small of my back in a sheet of flat deadness.  I didn’t mind too much how it looked, so I simply combed through it a few times before throwing it up into a high ponytail.  Since I didn’t look very pretty, I applied enough makeup that it covered my ugly blemishes and everything.

                I went back to my room and started to make my bed.  Gingersnap, my old and cranky cat, meowed grumpily as she was shifted by me moving the sheets.  She was a bright ginger tabby that only had half of her tail left; her bones were beginning to poke out of her sides, as she hadn’t been eating all her food recently.

                “Yeah, I know, Miss Cranky Pants,” I murmured, smiling playfully down at my only friend.  As I had originally been born in Britain, I still had the remnants of my British accent, but it was mostly dialed down by the ‘American-ization’ it had gone through.

                Said friend slowly climbed to her feet and carefully jumped to the ground, cautiously striding over to my double doors.  She ducked out of the room via the cat door, her stumpy tail flicking at me as if to say goodbye.

                Sighing, I finished up with my bed and followed the cat out into the hall, which was still dark with the absence of light from the early time.  The lights that lined the long hallway were out, as they usually were this early in the morning.  As I headed down the hallway, I passed several intricately carved doors, all of which led to multitudes of rooms, both trivial and overstocked.

                I reached the grand stairs, a spiraling staircase that was made of the finest materials.  Descending the steps, I headed into the dining room.  It was filled with dawn light, as the entire outside wall consisted of several huge windows.  The long mahogany table, complete with fancy china and silverware, took up the majority of the spacious room.  I held back a sigh when I noticed that my dad wasn’t at his seat at the end of the table.

                I wake up early, just to see him before work, and yet he still leaves before I do, I thought dejectedly, but schooled my face to keep it completely neutral as the door leading to the kitchen swung open.  An elderly man, his temples graying slightly, entered the room with the same poise and presence he always had.

                “Good morning, Young Miss,” he greeted me in a polite tone.  “Isn’t it a bit early for you to be up, if you don’t mind me asking.”

                “I don’t mind at all, Wilson,” I offered a small smile and received one back from the butler.  “And no, it isn’t too early at all,” I decided.

                “Of course not, Miss Evangeline,” the kindly butler agreed.  “If you’ll be seated, I’ll have a healthy breakfast prepared for you.”

                “Thank you,” I seated myself near the end of the dining room table.

                As he disappeared back into the kitchen, I contented myself with leaning back against the chair and gazing out at the slowly rising sun.  The light from it reached across the finely trimmed yard, staining the green grass with an orange glow that slowly spread up to the branches of the trees that lined the paved driveway.

                Wilson returned from the kitchen with a silver plate of steaming food.  He set it down in front of me with a flourish, opening the container to reveal sunny-side-up eggs, toast, and a bowl of various fruits such as strawberries, blueberries, and melon.  The butler also set down a glass of apple juice.

                I waited until Wilson disappeared past the door until I reached down and took a bite of my food.  It was sweet and savory, like it was every day.  After a few minutes, I was downing the rest of my orange juice and standing back up to head out of the room and up the stairs.  Moving down the hall, I stepped through a set of double doors and into what was my music room.

                Inside, there were a multitude of instruments all along the sides, while bookcases full of music lined the walls.  The middle of the room was occupied by a stool and a music stand.  One corner of the room was completely taken up by a concert grand piano.  I grabbed my absolute favorite instrument, my cherry red Gibson 1959 Les Paul which I had to play upside down, and settled down on the stool, expertly plucking the strings and tuning them all by ear.

                Strumming out a few warm up chords, I hummed a little tune to myself, closing my eyes and nodding along with the melody.  I let myself be absorbed into the music, like I had always loved to do.  My fingers glided over the fingerboard, seeking out the right notes to add to my hummed song.  There was my prized journal already set up on the music stand and I flipped to the first free page, scribbling in the chords with my left hand.

                After going through a few more chords, notes, and even a few lyrics, a gentle knock sounded on the door, startling me and nearly causing me to knock over the music stand.  The door opened and Wilson stepped in with my orange canvas backpack and my gray pea-coat.

                “It is time to head off to school, Miss Evangeline,” he informed me.

                “Of course, Wilson,” I nodded, setting my guitar on its stand and grabbing my leather bound journal.  I put the journal into the backpack before Wilson helped me into my coat.  Before we left the room, I grabbed my violin case, which was a dark purple color.

                In silence, we both left the room and headed down to the eight car garage, where my dad had a multitude of fancy and elegant cars including a Ferrari or a Lamborghini (I couldn’t really tell which) and a few older cars that were apparently ‘really cool’.  Wilson went to one of the classical cars, which was an old British model that my dad had bought for nostalgia sake.

                As I climbed into the back seat, Wilson started the car.  “Your playing was very magnificent, Miss, if you don’t mind my saying,” he commented politely as we backed out of the garage.

                A blush crept up to my cheeks and I looked down at my knees.  “You were listening?” my voice sounded small against the roar of the engine.

                “Not intentionally, Miss,” Wilson replied politely.  “I did not mean to intrude on your playing, but we had to leave and I heard a bit.”

                “T-that’s okay, Wilson,” I nodded slightly.

                The rest of the car ride passed in silence, the streets of California going by as we made our way to my high school, a prestigious performance arts academy known as Lumen High.  By the time we reached Lumen High, the sun was half-way up, dawn light painting the streets and the intimidating building of the school.

                “Your father has requested that you come by Sunset Records after school,” Wilson informed me as we were pulling to a stop in front of Lumen High, where a multitude of well-dressed and creative students were filing in.  “Jack will come pick you up and take you there, Miss.”

                “No need for that, Wilson,” I waved off quickly, gathering up my things.  “I’ll just walk there.  It’s not too far.”

                “As you wish, Miss Evangeline,” Wilson nodded to me as I stepped out of the car.  “Have a good day.”

                “You too,” I offered a small smile before turning on the heel of my ballet flats and striding up to the school.

                People swarmed around me, chattering amiably with one another in loud and excitable tones.  They were all dressed with varying style, as Lumen High had no uniforms and little to no dress code.  It was supposed to allow all of us to express ourselves more freely, as that was the main point of the entire school.  Someone ran into me, knocking my violin case to the ground.  Around me, the crowd laughed a bit as I kneeled to the ground and retrieved the case.  Just as I was picking it up, someone stepped down on it.

                “Good morning, Mason,” a male voice sneered.

                Already knowing who it was, I looked up from my spot on the ground to see Chad Eddington, the school’s most popular jock and the starting quarterback for the high school’s team, the Meteors.  He was about a head taller than me, with close cropped blonde hair, a strong jaw, and dark brown eyes.  On either side of him were his goons, Alexander Michaels and Jeff Tlingon.  They were all on the football team, something that they stated proudly by wearing their black and blue jerseys.  Alexander had light brown hair that was styled up slightly and Jeff had black hair that was kind of shaggy.

                “Good morning, Eddington, Michaels, Tlingon,” I nodded to all of them, still attempting to pull my violin off the ground.  “Can you please step off?”  No matter how much they bothered me, I never let it show.  That’s all they wanted, and if I gave it to them, then they’d just get worse.

                By now, the majority of the crowd had disappeared inside the school.  I noticed that it was nearly time for the bell to ring.  If I didn’t hurry up a bit, then I was going to be late to class.

                “Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Chad replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  He picked up his foot, letting me lift up the violin case, only for him to kick my shoulder and send me onto my back.  Both of his lackeys chuckled like idiots.

                My hands flew back to catch me, and I ended up scraping them on the concrete.  The three jocks just laughed, kicking some dirt at me before they calmly strutted into the school.  As the last few straggles walked past, they mostly ignored me, a few sending sympathetic but helpless looks.  Shaking my head, I wiped my hands on my skirt and gathered all my things up.

                I hurried through the school and managed to drop off my coat in my locker and make it to my first period just as the bell rang.  Lumen High was an experimental school that offered lots of extracurricular activities.  Unlike other schools, it only provided the basic requirements for graduation, so no advanced placement classes for any of the core studies.  Then it also had a ton of classes centered around performing arts, such as several different dance classes, a multitude of music groups, lyric and script writing, stage management, special effects, and all of that sort of stuff.

                Most of my day passed by like every other: I sat in the front of all my classes, stayed focused on every word of the teachers, answered every question I could, ignored all the idiots that tried to pass notes, had food thrown at me during lunch, and finally made it to my last period without too much incident.  For last period, I was free to basically do whatever.  Typically I would head over to one of the many band rooms and practice, as the orchestra teacher was probably the only adult I could talk to in the entire school, or I would go to the lounge in the library and work on song lyrics.

                On that day, I decided to go visit Mr. Tanner, the friendly and eccentric orchestra teacher.  For some reason, most of the kids didn’t really like him.  I think that’s what let us get along so well, neither of us were very popular.  As I stepped into the professional orchestra room, I heard something crash to the ground.

                Wincing at the noise, I looked around and saw Mr. Tanner getting up and brushing himself off.  Around him were piles of sheet music.  A small smile came over my lips as I walked over and kneeled down, helping my favorite teacher gather up all of the papers.

                Mr. Tanner was a younger man, only in his early thirties, but normally acted like a fourteen-year-old on a sugar high.  His black hair was always gelled up, spiky in the front, but shorter in the back.  Like every day, he was wearing a collared dress shirt and black dress pants.

                “Ah, hello Evangeline,” he greeted me.  “How are you today, kiddo?”

                I shrugged slightly as we picked up the last of the papers.  “I’m fine.  What about you, Mr. T?”

                “Oh!  I’m wonderful!” he smiled widely.  “Do you know what happened to me this morning?” the teacher wondered brightly.

                “What happened this time?” I wondered, used to Mr. Tanner’s talkative nature.

                “I was on my way to work, right?  And then suddenly, a limo pulled up beside me,” he spoke animatedly, with wild hand gestures and constantly shifting facial expressions.  “Now, I know that in itself isn’t too weird.  After all, there are a lot of rich people around here.  But the windows were down and you’ll never guess who was hanging out of them like a bunch of idiots!”

                We carried the stacks of sheet music over to his personal office and set them down.  “Who?” I asked curiously, my brow furrowed slightly.  Mr. Tanner didn’t get excited over just anyone.

                “It was One Direction!” he shouted.

                I rolled my eyes and wrinkled my nose in distaste.  “What’s so great about that?” I muttered sourly.  Out of every music group in the world, One Direction was my very least favorite (not counting rap, scream-o, heavy metal, or dubstep, as none of those were music, but purely noise).  I hated One Direction with a burning passion.

                “Nothing, really,” Mr. Tanner shrugged.  “I know you don’t like those guys, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool to have them visiting here.”

                “Not really,” I dead-panned.  “They’re nothing but an annoying pest in the music industry,” I commented drily.  “And they’re only a nuisance.”

                “You know, for a supposedly quiet girl, you’re oddly opinionated,” Mr. T remarked casually.

                “Thank you,” I nodded.  “I take pride in that.”

                Mr. Tanner chuckled, turning to sort through all the unorganized papers, me eventually going to help him.  The rest of the period passed like that, and the two of us worked together in companionable silence.  Eventually, the bell ran and I finished up with all the papers.

                Normally I would’ve stayed behind longer, but my dad needed me at Sunset Records that day, and I wasn’t about to be late in case it was important.  Mr. Tanner and I said our goodbyes before I gathered all my stuff and headed out of the band room.  As I hurried to my locker, my school binders clutched against my chest, someone stuck their leg out in the hall and I tripped over it.  All my stuff fell to the floor and I collapsed to my knees.  More laughter rose up and I scrambled to grab all my things.

                As I got back to my feet, I met the face of Victoria Galloway, the head cheerleader, long-term girlfriend of Chad, and the biggest prep around.  Her hair was a brilliant shade of red that matched her lips and her eyes were a bright green.  She had her posse behind her, complete with Monique Simmons, Aliana York, and the twins Alice and Alain Cairn.  All of them were dolled up with an abundance of makeup, their hair expertly braided, and their clothes the perfect example of fashion.  Everyone was smirking and laughing at me.

                “Sorry, Victoria,” I looked down at my feet.  “I didn’t see you there.”

                “Obviously,” she replied snidely.  “You’re too blind to even realize how hideous that outfit looks.”

                I didn’t even bother looking at my outfit.  Victoria was right, just like always.  It was like this every day, and every day I realized just how awful and ugly I really was.  Nobody liked me, and I’m sure Mr. Tanner was even getting annoyed by my clinginess.

                “Why don’t you go do us all a favor and wear a paper bag,” Victoria continued, before flipping her luxurious hair and stalking away, her posse at her heels.

                I kept my emotions under control, locking them up in the recesses of my mind like how I always did.  My face was the perfect mask of emotionlessness as I grabbed my pea-coat from my locker and headed out of the school, walking quickly so as to avoid any unwanted people.  Luckily, I made it off of school property without anyone else bothering me.

                Sunset Records, the company that my dad personally owned and ran, was only about two miles away, so I didn’t really mind walking there.  On my way there, I kept my head down and tried to walk faster when I received a few wolf whistles from a passing car.  My checks heated up and I began to speed walk, just wanting to get to Sunset Records.

                Finally, the fancy-looking skyscraper-like building loomed in front of me.  I ducked through the revolving door and headed up to the front office.  As I strode there, several people turned to stare at me, either wondering why the owner’s daughter was here or why a young woman like myself was there anyway.  I kept my eyes trained on the ground.

                “Hello, Evangeline,” Mrs. Leah, the head receptionist, greeted in a bored tone.  “Your father is in his office with his latest clients.  He wants you to meet them.”

                “Thanks,” I replied shortly, turning and heading over to the elevator.

                Once I stepped inside, I sighed in relief that it was empty.  My hands were kind of shaky and sweaty.  Even after spending most of my life visiting my dad’s work, it never got any easier for me to meet famous people.  I decided to let my lifeless hair out of its ponytail, running my hands through it several times.  At least with it down I could use it to hide my face.

                As the doors dinged open on the top floor, a huge spacious room with windows on all the sides just for my dad’s office, I looked up and stepped forward.  My backpack weighted down on my back, and my violin case suddenly felt heavier in my hand.

                “Ah, pumpkin,” my dad greeted me from behind his desk, standing up and walking over to me.

                “Hi, Daddy,” I smiled softly, giving into his customary hug and pecking him on the cheek.

                “I’d like for you to meet my newest clients,” he led me over towards his desk, but his back was blocking my view of the people there.  “They are from Europe and will be staying here in California for a few weeks in order to promote their next tour.  Pumpkin, I’d like you to meet One Direction,” my dad moved aside to reveal five boys, who were all turned in their seats and looking my way.

                My stormy gray eyes widened a bit in surprise before I narrowed them.  Well, wasn’t that just ironic?

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