Flashes in Time

All Mirabelle Sedora can remember is stumbling down a gravel road, lost and confused. When Harry Styles, a member of the biggest boy-band in the world devotes his time to helping her settle down, Mirabelle thinks this is her new start. Her new beginning. She wants to know of her past, know where she came from. She wants to know everything.

Until the flashbacks start coming.

Tensions rise, and a playful romance takes ahold, as Harry and Mirabelle push their way to answering one key question that changes everything:

Who is Mirabelle Sedora?

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7. Finding Out


Two hours later, Mirabelle was beating Harry at bowling.

“Another strike!” Mirabelle cheered as she watched the fallen bowling pins get swept up. Harry sat at the nearby table, playfully putting his head in his hands. Neither Mirabelle nor Harry had expected her to catch on so quick. Oh but she had.

“I need one more strike and I win the game.” Mirabelle pointed out, looking up at the television screen which displayed the total scores of each of the two.

“Come on now. Don’t boast.” Harry teased, standing up to bowl. Mirabelle giggled taking his spot in the seat.

Mirabelle ended the game with a triple strike.

Harry and Mirabelle spent the entire day at the bowling alley, taking a quick break for lunch before getting back to countless rematches. Harry realized Mirabelle really enjoyed this as a hobby. So she was the donut and bowling type of girl. Interesting.

At least seven hours later, Harry and Mirabelle sat at a nearby table, each of their arms worn out from the intense bowling.

“I think that deserves some food.” Harry grinned. Mirabelle nodded.

“I’m quite hungry.” She agreed.

“What are you in the mood for?” Harry asked, as the two of them headed to his Range Rover.
“Donuts.” Mirabelle answered honestly, with a straight face.

“Are you for real right now?” Harry smirked, watching as Mirabelle began to grin.

“Just joking.” She said. Harry rolled his eyes with a grin, opening the passenger door of his car which they had approached.

Harry began the drive to their destination for dinner. He was taking Mirabelle to his favorite Mexican restaurant in London. Mirabelle softly hummed to a song which played on the radio. Suddenly, Harry froze.

This was their song.

One Direction’s song.

What Makes You Beautiful.

Oh. No.

Mirabelle stopped humming for a second just when Harry’s solo came on. Harry focused on the road.

“This boy sounds exactly like you.” Mirabelle said suspiciously, eyeing Harry. Harry kept his eyes glued to the road.

“Probably just our voices that are alike. That’s all.” Harry shrugged.

“No. Harry. He sounds exactly like you.”

Harry was surprised by Mirabelle’s persistent attitude.

“That’s not me, Mirabelle. I’m sure of it.”

“Fine.” Mirabelle huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

When Harry and Mirabelle entered the restaurant, they were greeted by a lady at the front. When she saw Harry, she shot him a wink. Harry forced himself to not roll his eyes.

“Table for two?” the lady asked sweetly. She looked to be in her early twenties or so, twirling her hair as if she thought it would attract Harry.

“Yes.” Mirabelle answered, when he saw Harry not planning on answering first.

The lady nodded and led them to a table for two in the corner.

She handed each of them a menu after they had took their seats.

“What would you two like to drink?” she asked in a much to high voice, staring directly at Harry.

“Erm, I’ve take a medium sized margarita.”

“And for you?” the waitress asked Mirabelle, looking down as she wrote down Harry’s order.
“I’ll just have a glass of water.” Mirabelle answered, feeling uncomfortable. The waitress always asked for their food orders, staring at Harry as she licked her lips. This made Mirabelle squirm.

She watched as the waitress winked at Harry, purposely brushing past him as she walked off.

“Well she’s definitely not getting a tip.” Harry muttered, looking up at Mirabelle. She sat stiffly in her seat.

“May I ask you something?” Mirabelle said, cocking her head.

“Of course you can.” Harry smiled, telling her to go on.

“Is this a…a date?” Mirabelle questioned, keeping a straight and serious face.

“No.” Harry answered quickly. “It’s only dinner.”

“O-okay.” Mirabelle said hesitantly, keeping her head down.

When their food and drinks came, Mirabelle took her drink to advantage, constantly sipping her water so she could avoid talking to Harry. She chewed her quesadilla, kicking her feet under the table. Harry didn’t understand why Mirabelle was suddenly so quiet .She had been perfectly fine at the bowling alley, and now she had gone mute. Harry knew he would need a lot of time to completely figure this girl out.

“I think she is scary, if you must know.” Mirabelle sighed, crunching down on a tortilla chip.

“And why is that?” Harry chuckled.

“Because, she shows off too much. She needs to get a decent shirt, and please do not get me started on the skimpy skirt.” Mirabelle answered honestly, looking down at her food.

Harry laughed, gulping down a spoon of Mexican rice.

“Well if you must know, I don’t think she is very attractive, either.” Harry replied, just as honest. He too agreed that the lady needed to cover up. Her face was loaded with useless makeup that made her face look like a work of art gone absolutely wrong.

“She looks like she has crayon on her face.” Mirabelle giggled, as if she could read his mind. Harry cracked a grin, sipping at his margarita.

“What would you like to do after this?” Harry asked, biting down on his taco.

“I want to watch more television.” Mirabelle replied, putting a straw to her mouth the drink water.

“How about a movie night?” Harry suggested, giving Mirabelle a lopsided grin.

“That sounds like a –“

“Oh my god! It’s Harry Styles!” A girl squealed, running up to Harry’s and Mirabelle’s table. Harry stiffened, his eyes going wide as he stared at the young teenager running towards him with a blank paper in her hand.

“I am such a huge fan!” the girl babbled, fanning herself. “Can I get an autograph?”

Harry forced a smile onto his face, slipping out of his seat. “Of course. What’s your name love?”

“I’m Annie.” She grinned, handing Harry a paper and a pen.

Harry quickly scribbled a message onto the paper, signing it at the end.

“Here you go, love.” He smiled, handing it back to the girl.

“Thank you, Harry! May I get a hug?” she asked, rocking on her feet, the way Mirabelle always did.

“Sure.” Harry laughed, giving the girl a hug. She praised him one last time before leaving the scene.

“What the fuck was that?” Mirabelle growled, her teeth clenched. Harry held in a gasp; Mirabelle had never cursed before, and it sounded hot.

“That was you on the radio, wasn’t it? You are a famous load of shit, aren’t you?” Mirabelle spat, pushing her plate of food away.

This was what Harry was afraid of. He knew Mirabelle would misjudge him for a stuck up celebrity. This was why he hadn’t wanted to tell her.

“Do you think I’m going to fall for your tricks so easily? Just because you’re famous doesn’t mean you can take me home and expect me to love you. I bet you do think of this as a date.” Mirabelle snorted sarcastically, scooting her chair back. By now, everyone was staring at them.

“Mirabelle, please calm down.”

“No.” she barked, standing up.

Harry watched as she walked out of the restaurant. He couldn’t leave her to walk out on the streets of London all alone. Quickly, Harry threw some money on the table and ran after Mirabelle.

Her lean figure was fast, faster than Harry had ever expected.

“Mirabelle, wait up!” Harry yelled. They were getting farther and farther away from the restaurant, and Harry’s car. Mirabelle’s feet moved quickly, skipping a few lines of sidewalk every few seconds. She needed to get away from Harry.

“Mirabelle, stop!”

Mirabelle couldn’t stop herself. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t just trust some famous man who probably made a hundred girls faint ever second. He would forget her, anyways. Mirabelle knew she wasn’t important to him.

“Mirabelle!”

She was surprised he was keeping up. She could still hear his footsteps behind her.

“Mirabelle, I’m not stuck up. I’m not the famous ‘load of shit’ you think I am!” Harry yelled, trying to catch up with her. That was when he saw Mirabelle trip over an uneven portion on the sidewalk, falling face first onto the concrete.

“Ouch.” She muttered, flipping herself over to examine her scraped leg. Her chin hurt a bit, but a little damage wouldn’t hurt. She was already ugly anyways.

“Mirabelle! Are you alright?” Harry gasped, reaching her. He squatted down, meeting her eye level.

“I’m fine.” Mirabelle yelled back. The dark night sky made it hard for either of the two teenagers to see what her knee looked like. All Mirabelle knew was that it hurt. Her elbow was scratched up as well.

“Mirabelle, you need to stop hurting yourself.” Harry shook his head. Mirabelle took deep breaths, trying to steady her heart beat.

“That was quite a run, wasn’t it?” she exhaled, wiping her chin. Sure enough, she could see red blood on her hand.

“Oh, you’re bleeding.” Harry noticed. He pressed his thumb to her chin, wiping away the blood.

“Are you feeling okay?” Harry asked, sitting down beside her on the sidewalk.

“I told you. I’m fine.”

“I don’t understand why you think I would use you, or think of you as someone who was ‘easy’.” Harry huffed.

“Every celebrity is like that.” Mirabelle declared stubbornly, wiping away a small tear.

“Are you crying?” Harry asked softly. “Please don’t cry, love.”

“I’m not your love, Harry? I already told you that!” Mirabelle exclaimed, with a frown. She wiped away another tear.

“Sorry, sorry.” Harry apologized.

“Now, go away. I can handle myself.” Mirabelle demanded, pointing back towards the restaurant which seemed at least a mile away.

“I’m not leaving you.” Harry insisted, grabbing her wrist gently.

“Don’t touch me.” Mirabelle spat, shaking out of his grasp. Those were the familiar words she had said to him no more than a week ago. Her guards were building up again.

“Mirabelle, I will not hurt you.” Harry whispered, pulling at his hair.

“How do I know that?” she huffed, turning her shoulder to Harry.

“What I have I done to make you think that I would hurt you? Have I not taken care of you properly? Have I not comforted you when you felt down? Have I ever hurt you before?”

“You did tonight.” Mirabelle answered.

Harry’s heart dropped at her words. She was right. Maybe he should have told her in the first place.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Harry?” Mirabelle whispered, her voice squeaky from crying.

“Because I knew you would misjudge me, Mirabelle. The way you did tonight.” He gulped, trying to get Mirabelle to look at him.

“So now this is my fault?” Mirabelle raised her voice.

“No. I’m just saying.” Harry assured, squeezing his fists.

“Well, then.” Mirabelle scoffed, standing up. “I want to go home.”

Harry sighed and stood up.

They began their silent walk, and eventually, drive, back home.

Mirabelle ignored Harry all night.

Just like Harry had expected.

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