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.


11. Take Me Back

Harry's P.O.V

I walk into the hospital and Gemma and still unconscious. It's been 5 days. Turns out she was run over by a car, she went under the car. Clarke has called me till my messages were full. They started out short. Not long enough to make me feel guilty.


"Harry please call me."


"Hey it's Clarke, please call me back."


"You can't ignore me forever, call me back."


Then they became long and hard to listen to. I could hear her crying a little in some. It's not like Clarke to sound desperate, she doesn't want to sound weak.


"What have I done for you not to talk to me any more. We're friends, you can't change that. We became great friends in a short amount of time! Don't tell me that isn't a sign that we would stay great friends!"


"Harry please call me back. I'm bored stiff without you. I can't stand the fact that your mad at me, or something like that. I don't even know what your feeling. Just give me a call."


This one is the one I kept listening to over and over again. It doesn't sound like Clarke. It does but she just sounds so sad and empty.


"I miss you. I really miss you. I miss everything about you. Your warmth. Your wit. Your cheekiness. Your protective nature. I miss and love everything about you. I didn't realize how much I care about you. Maybe I am getting attached, so what? I just miss you Harry Styles and I'm attached. Like it or not, I'm attached. I can't help the fact that I care, love and miss you. I know I sound like a desperate fangirl, but I don't care. I really really-" The time ran out. She was sobbing a little in the beginning.


I wander the waiting room looking at all the different people. I haven't told mum about Gemma. She would just take me away right there. I keep looking and go back through the door way. I look back and see Clarke. She's standing past the doorway. She's wearing a oversized black muscle tee that says New York on it and has a picture of the city, it's from some store, Brandy Mel something. She wears black leggings with that and her glasses, not contacts. She's also barefoot, what the fuck. I walk up to her, she stands there tall.

"Get out." I point to the exit.

"No." She says confidently.

"Get. Out." I growl.

"Just tell me why it's bad to be attached." She looks me straight in the eye.

"Just get out Clarke." I push her back, not playfully.

"Tell me Harry!" She yells drawling some attention to us.

"I'm not in the mood for your childishness." I say.

"And I'm not in the mood to be treated like a child. Your only 2 years older than me!" Clarke yells. Why can't she just take a fucking hint and get out.

"Clarke, I don't like you. Your a pain in my fucking ass. I can't stand how stubborn you are. You act so independent, but your really so fucking clingy." I say to her.

"You don't mean that." She looks me in the eye. She seems so damn confident about it too.

"Clarke listen to me. I. Hate. You." I look at her straight into her hazel eyes. Her eyes start to water.

"Well, I-I um, better get going. Give this to your sister." She hands me a big thin wrapped up thing rectangular thing. "I did the best I could by memory, it was supposed to me for both of you." she walks away.

I tear the paper. It's picture of Gemma and I sketched by Clarke I guess. It's the picture where Gemma is sitting on my lap and I have my arms wrapped around her. The sketch it framed and everything.

Clarke's P.O.V

I have my head buried in my pillow crying. The problem is, my bed smells like Harry. Sweet, refreshing, and musky at the same time. I heard a knock at my door.

"Go away!" I yell. The door opens anyways. It's my dad.

"What's wrong doll?" He sits at the end of my bed

"I want you to go away!" I scream.

"Doesn't misery enjoy company." He rubs my leg. I move it so it's out of reach.

"Not all the time." I sit up.

"Come on doll, tell me what's wrong." He pleads. If I tell him what's wrong with Harry, he will just say 'I told you he was trouble.'

"I'm.... On my period." I lie. Dad gets up and backs away.

"Oh, uh, you need anything?"

"No!" I yell.

"Okay." He finally leaves.

What would make Harry say those things.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...