Chapter One
"Tall Chai Tea Latte for… P-Phryn-Phrynia?"
I walked up to the counter and quickly grabbed my drink, my face visibly flaming with embarrassment. I cursed my mum and her unhealthy obsession with Shakespeare. I could understand wanting to name me after a Shakespearean character, after all it fit with the English major stereotype that was Susan Miller, but couldn't it have been something more common like Juliet? I'd asked this many times throughout my childhood, secretly hoping that she'd reveal this had all been a practical joke and my name was something more normal like Jessica or Jennifer. Sadly, I'd lived 18 years without this wish being granted and as the years went on I slowly started to accept that my name was just another one of the things that made me stand out in the sea of Ashley's, Jennifer's, and Hanna's I'd gone to school with.
As I looked back on it, most of the things that made me stand out could be blamed on my mother; either her genetics or odd ideologies. My wild, red hair that took many uncomfortable yanks and tugs of the brush and litres of leave-in conditioner to be tamed had come from my mum's side of the family. When I was 5, it had seemed like the best hair color to have, especially when my favorite Disney movie was the Little Mermaid, but then as I moved up in the grades and started being compared to Raggedy Ann; I became less than enthused about my fiery locks. Second thing was my mum's insistence that I ignore dolls and other such girly toys in favor of trucks and 'educational' toys; the former led me to brief interaction with booger eating five year old boys while the latter scared any potential playmates running straight for their mums. Lastly, my mum's insistence that I disregard society's beliefs on weight and body type, and exchange fashion magazines for cinnamon buns with extra cream cheese icing. This lead to me being particularly "round" as my mum would put it or "fat" as both relatives and strangers alike would term it.
Now, that I've gotten in my daily rant about Susan Miller and her unfortunate parenting skills, I set off towards school. I'd finished my A-levels two years ago and had spent one year dicking around doing nothing more than laying on the couch, indulging in sugary treats, watching way too many YouTube videos, and spending an unhealthy amount of time trying to talk to my cat, Artemis. So now that I had finished my first year at Uni and was a few months into my second, taking a variety of courses that would probably not help me accomplish anything productive in life, I had a routine pretty much down pat. It consisted of: Starbucks, Class, Lunch, Class, Work, and then an hour or so of trying to avoid my assignments before I caved, then more YouTube videos, then falling asleep at an ungodly hour because I'd found a TV special that I had to watch at that very moment despite having a DVR.
Welcome to La Vida Loca.
"You're late Miller," Mr. Thompson, our Uni's version of Ebenezer Scrooge, snapped before turning back to the diagram he had projecting on the overhead.
"Sorry sir" I mumbled, feeling my face turn a rather unattractive hue of red clashing horribly with my ginger hair.
I sat down in the only empty seat available in the class, and was glad to see that everyone had turned their attention back to the front rather than focusing on the bumbling, fire hydrant that was me. I ignored taking notes in favor of casually sipping on my drink and trying to beat my top score at Temple Run. I was slamming furiously on my beat-up iPhone 4's screen, no doubt making unattractive faces while I contorted my body in time with my character, when my phone alerted me of a text. I scowled unattractively before exiting the game in favor of reading the text, preparing to write a very angry-worded text message to whomever it was that'd interrupted me. Although, I had a pretty good idea of who it was considering my mum could barely answer her phone let alone text on it, my father abhorred technology and refused to associate with machines that had the potential of 'taking over the world', my sister hated me, and my cat didn't have access to a phone. That left one person. Harry.
Harry: I saw an old lady walking down the street, I was wondering if I should warn her to watch out for a big-busted redhead who's in the habit of knocking over the elderly… Or have you given up that hobby? Xx.
Honestly that boy! He'd never let the one time that I'd knocked into an elderly woman go! I didn't mean to, and I claim it was at least partially his fault because he'd insisted we run down the street like maniacs. I'd tried to apologize and help her pick up her bags, but all I'd gotten was an alligator skin purse in the face and a stern telling off in what I was convinced was Polish. While Harry had stood there laughing with actual tears running down his face, refusing to aid me in my time of need. To sum things up, Harry found plenty of amusement in my misery.
Oh hardy, har, har! If we're doing public service announcements, you should warn her that she might end up in your bed if she isn't careful about flashing her wrinkles and compression stockings. Xx.
I smiled to myself, pleased with what I thought was both a witty and humorous reply. I sat there tapping my pen against the desk top, knowing better than to try and resume playing Temple Run because Harry would just interrupt again before I could anywhere near beating my high score.
Harry: And to think I call you my friend! I'm wounded.
I rolled my eyes, picturing the mock-holding of his broken heart Harry would do if he were here in person. He was such a drama queen sometimes; I wondered how Louis could still hold that title. I suppose it was because during interviews Harry channeled his inner cheekiness and held back the immaturity and drama that lurked right below the surface.
How will I ever earn your forgiveness?
Harry: Lots and lots of your homemade cinnamon buns.
I think that can be arranged if I ever get to see your dimpled face in person again! People have given me weird looks for talking to poster versions of you, so I've been trying to quit.
Harry: Ha! I've missed you and your quirks, Miller.
And I've missed you and your millions, Styles…
Harry: I see how it is; you're just using me for my fame and money! Gold digger!
Shit he's caught on. Abort mission! Mission abort! Innocent until proven guilty and all that…
Harry: What would you do if I were to say that I may or may not be in Manchester this weekend to see your pretty face…? Xx.
My eyes widened at this, I hadn't seen Harry face to face in over a year! The last time being at his newly bought house in London, right before he'd left for tour. Harry being my only best friend, and having gone from growing up together like two peas in a pod to him constantly being busy had been a tough transition, but with regular Skype sessions and constantly texting I'd managed. Besides it made me cherish each and every visit that much more.
Are you serious? That'd be so so great! You can't imagine how much I've missed you.
Harry: Course I'm serious, I've talked to management and everything and we'll get the whole weekend together! I've missed you too, Ryn. Is everything alright up there?
I frowned, not wanting to give the wrong impression. Nothing was really wrong at Uni, my classes and teachers were fine, it was more so the social aspect. I'd never really been a social butterfly, not in Holmes Chapel and not now either. To be honest, Harry had been my one and only friend and some days I still questioned why he had wanted to be friends with me at all, but whatever reason that may be I was thankful for that every single day. Before Harry and I had become friends, I'd been picked on quite a bit and while most university students didn't carry on with their childish teasing, they weren't exactly welcoming either. So in my entire time at university, I'd made a total of 0 friends. Sad but true.
Harry: Ryn, you know you can call me whenever right? I'll never be too busy to answer your call. Xx.
I had to smile at that, even from hundreds of miles away he could still sense when I was feeling down and knew exactly what to say.
Course Haz, I'm fine. I just can't wait to see you! Xx