The Bar Owner's Daughter

Clarke Stevenson is the daughter of the owner of the popular bar in London. Ever since she was 16 she would watch a local guy, Harry Styles get drunk and get into bar fights. One night after a violent bar fight Clarke takes care of Harry. They later develop a friendship that know one seems to agree with.


16. Come Here

2 months later*

Clarke's P.O.V

Today is the parade where we celebrate the Queen's Birthday. I'm going to take Kennedy there. She finally came back from America. My parents send every kid that's screwing up to America with my aunt. Kennedy was sent there at age 13, she's almost 16 now. She would hang out with stoners, and vandals. Then mum and dad shipped her off.

She's different now. She used to have black/brown hair, really pale skin, bags under her eyes, and she was really short and she looked like she had a eating disorder. Now she's taller than me, which isn't hard. Has light brown hair and tanned skin, the sun of America must've helped. The bags under her eyes have vanished, she finally gained some weight, and she just looks more mature.

Kennedy also dresses more preppy, and clean cut. She used to dress all trashy and wore a lot of black. Her makeup isn't all dark colors anymore, it's more sweet and simple. Two years with our aunt changed her.

"Clarence." She said. I shoot my head up. We share a room now, the old storage place is big enough I guess.

"What?" I rub my eye, then put on my glasses.

"I didn't know you still responded to that." She giggled. I've been called Clarke since I was 8. I was all about starting fresh when moved to Australia, it was a phase, but the new name stuck.

"Only when you call me that." I laugh. Kennedy was the only one who still called me by my real name. Her being the little sister that copies me, she wanted to be called Ken. I still.called her Kennedy.

"Do you miss Meredith?" I look at her for a moment. Meredith, she was one of the reasons I changed my name. It was kinda like a tradition in my family. My brother mark wanted to be called M. My brother Michael trying to annoy Mark wanted to be called Mike. Then Meredith wanting to annoy them demanded to be called Mere. Then I wanted to be called Clarke to be like her especially after she died. Then Kennedy followed after. Kennedy and I were the only ones who didn't call anyone by their nicknames.

"Yeah, I do."

"I wish I got to know her better." Kennedy was 3 when Meredith died.

"Don't fill you life with regret! Let's go to the parade!" I get out of bed. Kennedy followed after me.


At the parade we stood there cheering. Kennedy was finally back, and it was amazing. If only Mark and Michael came home one weekend. Except Mark hates mum for not accepting his wife. And dad practically disowned Michael for getting a girl pregnant at age 16. Of course dad did what we did with everyone, send them to America, but Michael being rebellious, didn't go on the flight and stayed with the girl he got pregnant, their married now and happy.

They wanted to keep up the M theme in my family when I was born. I would've been name Marisa, and Kennedy would've been named Malory. But mum loved the names Clarence and Kennedy. So they stuck with that.

I lost track of Kennedy, so I look around and find her talking to a guy. Not just any guy, Harry. I walk over and grab her arm.

"Hey!" She swung her arm away.

"It's a little early to be flirting with guys Kennedy!" I yell a bit louder than I wanted to. Harry just looks at me and smiles.

"Clarke we weren't flirting." Harry defends. He has a scar above his eyebrow and very noticeable scars on his wrist. That guy cut through one of Harry's tattoos.

"Wait, Clarence, you know him." Kennedy raises her eyebrow and smirks.

"Clarence?" Harry asks dumbly.

"It's my real name." I say quickly.

"So you guys know each other?" Kennedy says.

"Yeah." I say.

"You seen to have quite a history." Kennedy says while Harry sticks his tongue at me and I slap his shoulder. So immature.

"Yeah...." Harry smirks at me.


"So what are you guys like friends, sisters, cousins?" Harry asks.

"We're sisters. I'm almost 16 and Clarke is 20." Kennedy smiles.

"No wonder you look alike." Harry makes a face like he's just found a cure for cancer,

"Yeah." I cross my arms.

"Your sister is mad at me." Harry whispers loudly to Kennedy, he obviously wanted me to hear.


"She just is, she gets mad at me at the smallest things, look. Hey Clarke come here." Harry says with a smirk forming on his face.

"I'll tell you everything later Kennedy, let's go." I tug her arm.

"No, no, I'll just go, you stay here." She walks away and disappears in the crowd.

"You sister is nice." Harry looks down at me, him and Kennedy were about the same height.

"Yeah, she came back from America yesterday." I look around for her,

"Why was she in a America?"

"Whenever one of my siblings are screwing up, they are sent to America to stay with my aunt. She was 13 when she left." I look up at him.

"That's messed up, you can't just send your kids away when they mess up." Harry says calmly.

"That's just my parents way of, parenting." I shrug.

"Have you've ever been shipped off?" He asks.

"They threaten me before."


"Don't you remember? My mum and dad didn't want me to see you, so they threatened to ship me off." I say. My dad actually threatened me, but mum would've agreed.

"Yeah, I bet your dad is proud that his doll isn't hanging around me." Harry laughs. My dad calls me doll, he calls Kennedy sweetheart, and he used to call Meredith sweet cheeks.

"Yeah, he actually hasn't mentioned you or asked about you." I state.

"Really, I thought he would've been all like, 'doll where's that styles kid?" Harry said in my dad's accent.

"You can stop saying doll now." I cross my arms again.

"Why does he call you that?"

"I don't know, it's a Scottish thing I guess." I shrug.

"My dad called me Harold, and Gemma, Gemmy bears." Harry said in a serious tone of voice. I couldn't help but laugh, Gemmy bears.

"That's better than doll." I say.

"I still like you, you know that Clarke." Great Harry made this awkward.


"As a friend I mean, but we can't even be friends now." Harry leans on his right leg and crosses his arms.

"We can be friends."

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