Luck & Love {A Harry Syles Fan Fiction}

Courtney is dragged to a concert by her younger sister and by fate meets Harry. She doesn't know him and doesn't listen to his music but he enjoys her company and witty remarks. When she goes to visit her mum in London, he can't help but want to go home every chance he gets. Harry charms her in every way but she can't help thinking of her old flame, Elijah, and the broken heart that came along with it.


2. The Beginning

As I grew older, my father always said I looked too much like my mother. I always took that as a sign that he would always love Kameron more than I, but I seemed to be all right with that because I had mum.

While my dad lived in New York, my mum lived in London, England. He wrote and composed music and lyrics for Broadway shows while she designed clothing for her own fashion line.

Our time was mostly spent in New York going to school and living with our father, but we travelled to London on holidays, long weekends and any other chance we got.

Everyone always said that Kam looked like dad, and at the age of 15 it was obvious. Their hair was a beautiful dark brown, his short and hers curly and long. They shared the mysterious hazel eyes, pale complexion and were both tall and lean.

I was compared to my mother because of my coppery red hair. It was long and flowed in every which direction, completely impossible to tame. Our eyes were a dull green, similar to moss. Our skin was light and our height was short. Kam always said we were two small Barbie dolls that could get knocked down by the wind. In a way, she was right.

Kam was outgoing; wanting to go on adventures, climbing trees, tossing rocks. You name it. As children, Kam was always the one to get into trouble but could always use her beautiful face to get out of it without really knowing the advantage she had. I was the eldest, therefore the guinea pig and commanded the responsible role with everything, earning me the respect that I craved.

Our tastes differed in the arts. Kameron took after our mother in the sketching and designing clothes, knowing fashion before anyone else. “Plaid will be in next fall mother, I’m sure of it,” she would say. Everyone knew she would take over mother’s company, and skyrocket it to the moon and beyond.

I took after my father with music; I had to admit it was a passion. I would sit in front of a piano and write a beautiful score for just about any mood, but if you asked me to preform it? I wouldn’t be able to. The thought of large groups of people paying to stare at you for a night was daunting and scary. My father always said it was a pity that a voice like mine met its match with stage fright.



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