"I think the first year of our relationship was the absolute best. Our love had started blossoming, I started to become more independent on my own, and I had finally had the courage to get my own apartment and move out of my parent's house."

The shrink writes down short excerpts of what I have said moments ago, and it annoys me to the maximum of why she would do that. But, I guess that is what those people are here for, to help people suffering. I'm not suffering, whatsoever, but my parents, whom have absolutely nothing to do with my relationships, decided it would be the best to make me go to a shrink and talk out whatever the hell was wrong with me.

A stupid idea it is in my own opinion, and this is my first ever appointment with her, Mrs. Forman. I have known her through one of my professor's at college, whom is her husband, but I am not very familiar with her until now. Her eyes have followed my every move, from my nailbeds being picked at or how my eyes every so quickly twitch. He did this to me.

"Ms. Young, could you tell me on how you two met?" She asks in a slow manner, pulling me out of my trance. Her blue irises are cast on mine in this moment, and I easily recognize the worry in her eyes.

"Why, of course," I mumble, taking in a deep breath to tell one hell of a long story. "We met on a Friday, God, and I loved Fridays because Harry would always be in the best of moods. It was March seventh, six years ago, and we were at another damn party."

The smoke made my insides wheeze inside due to the amount surrounding me. Alcohol isn't the problem, it's just the large amount of fucking weed in this large house, and I have never felt so suffocated in my life until now. I don't understand why people would even get stuck on it in the first place. My lips took it in once, and it burned the hell out of my throat, so that was a big reminder to my body of not to smoke weed anymore.

Hell, I am seventeen years old and have a life ahead of me. There is no need to ruin it all by taking in an intoxicating breath and ruining the road before me. But, as I stand here in the midst of the somewhat drunken crowd, I feel the intoxication already kick in, and I haven't even had any type of poison in my blood yet.

One of my close friends, Jamie, had brought me here tonight to get my mind off of another crush I had, whom I saw snogging another girl in the parking lot this afternoon. It was sad to see them lip-locked against his truck, but I mean, it's not like we have a relationship. The boy doesn't even know I exist except when we are in physics class together and are partnered. But, the handsome boy has a large reputation in the nearby areas of our high school, so I probably would not want to have any contact with him either. Niall Horan is his name.

"Brooklyn!"

My head immediately snatches up to the voice, noticing Jamie standing in front of me with a two bottles of beer in both of her small hands. From what I am guessing, one is for me and the second is for her. My mind automatically clicks to the drunken nights of when Jamie could not physically hold herself up, which resulted in me taking her home and covering for her from her parents due to her massive hangovers the next day. Jamie can get rowdy when drinking so I sometimes try to steer off from the whole situation to not get embarrassed when she slurs out terrible scandals. She tends to do that, though, when not drinking and it really does scare me on our future friendship.

"You ready to get over that fucker yet?" She asks whilst walking closer to me, almost to the point of where her drink is poking my stomach. I can smell the alcohol on her, and due to her actions already, I know she is tipsy, or even more.

"Yeah," I laugh at her scrunched up face as she tries to take off the top of the bottle for me. "I think I can get that."

"Oh, yeah. Sure," she mutters, handing over the bottle to me and looking around the crowd that seemingly surrounds us.

My green eyes immediately dart to her features, noticing the way her lipstick is slightly smudged over her puckered lips. Her pupils are full-blown, making her look a little more innocent that she honestly is. The makeup rubbed into her face has a small layer of sweat upon it while her mascara is making its way on the dark bags under her eyes.

By the way her appearance is, I can tell that she has either got laid or done something sexual with another. Her green, cocktail dress looks as if it has been handled and tossed with many times due to the wrinkles in it, and I know it was not in that condition when Jamie drove me here. She always makes sure her appearance is in the best shape she can to impress.

"Looks like Styles is single now," Jamie somewhat slurs, my eyes instantly following hers.

And by God, it looks like he is single.

His messy, dark hair is soaking wet from the mysterious alcohol beverage that was just dumped onto his head. His girlfriend, well, ex-girlfriend just screamed out the words, "We are over you, little bitch!" and I instantly notice her as the girl who was snogging Niall Horan in the parking lot today. Wow, that is just low.

Harry's black shirt is now stained with whatever the drink was, but it seems as if he doesn't care. It's not noticeable of the colour, of course, since his shirt is black, but I can see the dark outline of the substance. His face shows absolutely no emotion in what has happened moments ago, possibly because there is a chance he might be drunk as well, and many drunk people I know don't have many emotions going through their head, except Jamie.

Although he is on the other side of the room, I can easily see his vibrant green irises. The tight denim clung to his legs compliments the black shirt easily as well as the sleek, brown boots slipped onto his feet. That is what Harry Styles is known for, his outrageous while fashionable style.

I don't know him well, but from what I have heard, he has a small reputation, too. Harry is directly known for being in his small town band, The Stoners, and the lead singer of it. Once, when I was out with Jamie and a few other friends, we had stopped at the bar they were playing at, and for starters, it had surprised me that the owner let seventeen-year-old girls into a bar. But, Jamie had somehow knew the guy and some relations with him, so he let us in. Plus, I am positive that Harry and his fellow band members are my age as well.

The name of his band has always struck me, and I know they did the name as a joke. Well, possibly Harry, but The Stoners are known to literally smoke weed many times, and their inspiration is The Rolling Stones for the band. Everyone knows that because their symbol is closely related. When I heard them for the first time, I thought they were really good despite the fact that there were some off keys, but the band was just starting out. Now, around half a year later, their minds and music are very successful.

"Man, that motherfucker is one hot boy," Jamie brings me out of my deep thoughts, once again, nudging my side. "Let's go talk to him," she suggests, not waiting for my answer and grabbing my elbow, dragging me with her.

I barely know this guy, hell no. "No, what-Jamie, I can't. I don't even know him."

"Well, now you can get to know him," and we are now standing in front of the one and only, Harry Styles.

Right away, he is aware of mine and Jamie's presence, a small smile making its way across his face. It's very rare for him to show any teeth of a facial expression, and damn, Harry should smile more.

"Hello ladies," his deep, accented voice vocalizes, and I wonder if he has forgot about the alcohol bathing in his hair and shirt. "What brings you over here?" He asks, his green eyes scanning over Jamie's appearance and then mine.

It's not like I am wearing anything special or eye-catching. I am simply wearing a pair of dark, skinny jeans and a black long-sleeve. What a mistake because it feels like the fucking Sahara, but I can make do by rolling up the sleeves and an occasional walk through outside with the cool breeze. Jamie's appearance, well, it still is way more revealing than many of what the other girls are wearing at the party. She likes the attention, enjoys it, and always has.

"Just wanted to say hi and have a chat," Jamie flirtatiously says, her small hand that had previously been put on my elbow is back to swaying by her side.

She wants to fuck him, simple as that. I can tell by the way her eyes have darkened more, and the alcohol in her blood is not helping. Jamie's invariably had a small crush on Harry, well more as lustful, and that has always been her goal. Harry is very attractive, but I'm not so sure if he would be one of those guys to have sexual interactions with many and many girls.

"Ah, well that's fine," he playfully scoffs, and I feel as if I am going to internally vomit from him flirting back. "And who might you be?" The smile has grown onto his face, now in a dimpled grin, and I cannot help but return one. His smile is contagious, dammit.

My cheeks turn with a red tint added, but I quickly clear my throat and make my smile to the smallest, as if his grin did not bother me. "I'm Brooklyn," my voice is comes out as a croak, and I cannot help but laugh at it, Harry joining in. What the hell? I should be embarrassed, but from the looks of Jamie, her face is giving me the 'what the fuck' look, and telling me that I should run off so she can have her ways with him.

"Lovely name, Brooklyn," a large hand is offered to shake, and my eyes dart to the cross tattoo inked onto the skin between his pointer finger and thumb. "I'm Harry."

"What happened the rest of the night?" Mrs. Forman questions, her pen quickly working ink onto the paper.

"I believe that Jamie got a little too wasted and I had to take her home," my eyebrows push together in confusion as I try to recall those past events. It's been six years, God. "Harry and I had continued to chat the night away while everyone else just disappeared in a blur. Jamie steered off because Harry didn't really seem interested in her ways."

"Her ways of trying to seduce him?"

"Yeah," a smile makes its way across my face as I remember Harry telling Jamie that he was only interested in a conversation, nothing more than that, and she stomping off. He was so happy to be along and talk to me, but I couldn't have felt more nervous in my life. I thought his happiness was fake when he had told me that, but from the next few hours and on, my happiness was spiraling upwards.

"What did you think of him from then on? Did you think you would ever talk to him again?" She queries, and my eyes change to look at the scuff on the wooden floor.

"I thought he wouldn't really talk to me anymore, honestly. It was just a couple hours conversation, and we had our laughs. But, I mean, I was jittery about it all when I got home and could finally let out the ecstatic scream I had been holding in," I chuckle, swallowing the large lump that has seemingly been stuck, down my throat.

"And just one last question since our session is nearing its end," Mrs. Forman looks up from her notebook, taking off the squared, black glasses off her face and folding her hands together to put on top of her desk. "You mentioned before your story of how you both met that Harry and you had kissed the first year of your relationship, but had fought moments before. Did you guys always fight?"

"I mean, hell yes. Look at me now. Harry and I had met at the wrong time, and I had kept telling myself not to be so happy that he had talked to me. I told myself it was all wrong, but people kept telling me that we would make such a great couple. And there it is, three months after that damn party, we are a couple, but we didn't have one of those happy-dee-go relationships," my eyes stay cast on the floor as I speak once again.

"And although my heart ached all those times in our many of fights in the first year of our relationship, I had hoped we were okay. I knew it wasn't a healthy relationship, I told myself that countless times, and here other people were telling us that we were great together. I was afraid, but I wouldn't regret our relationship. There were times when I thought I did, yes, but my official answer will never be a complete yes of regretting it."

started: June 3rd, 2016; 10:39 pm

Ended: June 10th, 2016; 10:02 pm