HARRY

"Try this one." Erin handed me my fifth plate of pie. Her hopeful eyes watched me as I reluctantly took a forkful of pie.

"What kind is this one?" I ask before bringing it to my lips. I was getting tired of testing pie. I could feel the five different varieties of the dessert rest at the pit of my stomach. If I had to eat another fucking piece of pie, I was ready to throw it in her face.

"Strawberry peach," she raises her eyebrows in expectance. Sighing, I take the bite.

It was bitter. God, was it fucking bitter. I swallow it anyways, not wanting to spit out another piece. After the apple pie, key lime, blueberry, and the coconut cream, I was ready to fucking quit. "Honestly Erin," I wipe my mouth, "If I have to eat another bite of fucking pie -"

"I know! I know," she hands me a glass of water. "I just need to change up the dessert here. Brad asked me to do this and you know how he is. He's so damn picky with everything that we serve at the diner. I want to make the best decision."

"Fine," I grunt, taking another long sip of water. "What others do you have..."

She was lucky I loved pie. Or else I'd be done. I'd probably be quitting - claim that she tried to kill me with fucking food poisoning. "Really?" She looks at me skeptically. Shrugging, I nod once. She gives me a warm smile. Her eyes lighting up with gratitude, "Thanks kid."

"Yeah. Whatever."

I grab the dish cloth, making my way towards a now empty table. As I begin to wipe down, I hear the diner door open. The ring of the bell signaling a new customer. I don't bother to look up. Too preoccupied with this fucking nasty dish cloth. I should really get a new one -

"Hey!" I yell as someone spills a whole thing of salt on the table. "You got to be fucking joking me." I turn around, my eyes a blaze. My fists ball as I am met with piercing blue eyes.

"Chase."

His lips are quirked into a smirk. His eyes narrowing as he looks at me. Our faces eye level. I don't remember him being this fucking tall. His hands are stuffed into his jeans. His greasy blonde hair gelled back. "Missed a spot," He smirks.

I take a few deep breaths. My heart was racing. Being this close to Chase did that to me. I hated being near him and that arrogant look that was always plastered on his face. His judgmental eyes watching me. "What do you want," I ask him curtly. I am doing my best to hold back from punching him square in the jaw.

"I was in the mood for something... salty." He flicks his hand over the pile of salt on the table I had just cleaned.

"Then go to a fucking salt bar. Get out of here before I make you."

"Oh Styles," he begins to shake his head. His lips curled into an amused smile, "Are you really going to kick out a paying customer? What would your boss say about that?" He takes a seat on a chair. His long legs stretched out in front of him.

"If you're going to order, then fucking do it. But don't be surprised if you find a piece of hair in it." I begin to turn away from him. I couldn't stand looking at his face. Memories of how he had touched my girl, my Iz. I wanted to punch him all over again at the mere thought.

I walk back to the counter. My body was fuming. Every muscle tense, every hair on my body raised. The guy had a lot of nerve to come here. It had been a few months since I had seen him. Since Izzy had seen him. Ever since I had punched him in the face.

"You okay, kid?" Erin walks out from the back. She has another pie in her hands. She sets it down on the counter, her eyes watching me, concerned.

"Yeah."

"You're not," she states. "What's up."

I nod my head towards Chase, who is still sitting at the table and looking at a menu. "Ah. Isn't that Isabella's ex?"

I tense at the reminder. "Yeah."

Erin begins to shake her head. "Never liked that kid. Bad vibes." She hands me a new fork, sliding me my sixth piece. "Cherry."

I take a bite. An involuntary moan escaping my lips as I swallow the small bite. "This one." I wasn't one for cherry pie, but this one was fucking delicious.

"Are you just saying that?"

"No. This one, Erin." She smiles, nodding her head.

"Thanks kid."

"Yeah." I lean against the back counter. My eyes staring down Chase. He was still looking at the menu like the pretentious dick he was.

"Listen, I'll take his table. You take the one near the far left window, alright?"

I turn towards Erin. My eyebrows furrowing, "You sure?"

"Yeah. You're like my son. I got you, Harry." She bumps me on the side with her hip. "Now finish this damn piece of pie and get back to work."

-

One hour. One fucking hour he has been sitting there with that smug smirk and pretentious sweater and gelled back hair. God, what the hell did Isabella ever see in this idiot. He has been eating the same french fry for the past ten minutes. Ten. Fucking. Minutes. Who the hell takes that long to eat a damn french fry? I was about ready to stuff it down his throat and throw him out.

"Bloody hell," I walk over to where he sat. "Here's your bill." I slam the piece of paper on his table. "Hurry the hell up, Chase."

He looks at me with that same damn smug look he has been sending my way for the past hour. "Why the rush, Styles? Paying customer, remember?" He takes his knife... his knife... to cut his last damn french fry into pieces.

Taking a deep breath, I pull out a chair and take a seat. I throw the dish cloth on top of the table. I rub the back of my neck. "What do you want."

Chase takes his glass of coke, taking a long sip from it. He places it back down on the table. His head turning to face me fully. He runs his hand through his hair. His eyes watching me as he leans in closer. "You to go back home." He says slowly.

"Not a chance," I growl. What was wrong with this kid?

"You are not welcome here. You need to pack up your shit and go back to Manchester. We all know that Isabella is going to leave you soon. They all do."

Deep breaths. He was not worth it, I talk myself down from punching him right here and now. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Murphy. And don't you fucking dare bring Isabella into this. She's my girl, not yours." I sit up, my hands holding on to my knees tightly. "This isn't some small town. You can't tell me to fucking leave and go back home. This is where I live now. I have a life here. You are going to have to get over it. Got it?"

Chase scoffs. "You don't get it, do you? You're a screw up. Always have been and you always will be. You may have the girl right now, but she isn't going to want to stay with you. You have nothing going for you. No degree. You have a shitty car. A shitty apartment. Working at a diner... You're pathetic, Styles. Isabella will soon realize that and will move on. She's not like you. She's from a family of wealth and power. She will get tired of slumming and will go back to what's better for her."

"Let me guess... you?" I scoff.

"Maybe. Maybe not," he smirks. "But it's not going to be you. This little fairytale isn't going to last long enough. You're only fooling yourself."

Before I have the chance to say anything back, Chase throws a few notes on the table and walks out. Leaving me feeling like a fucking idiot.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she will get tired of all this and move on. What did I have going for me? Absolutely nothing. I didn't go to university. I didn't have any goals or dreams. I was working at a diner and drove the shittiest car in all of London.

Isabella was smart. She was beautiful and had everything going for her. What if this was all a phase and she realizes that I'm not enough for her? She'll leave me and find some fucking trust fund kid with a business, mansion and a fucking Corvette. Someone that can provide for her and support her. At the rate we were going, she was going to be supporting us. Not me.

I fucking hated Chase. But - maybe, just maybe, he was right. Maybe I wasn't going to be enough for her.