A/N
I apologize in advance if you haven't watched "Friends", as you might not understand a few things they're talking about. It's nothing that important, though.

ly

***

Harry Styles

"C'mon, just pick one," I whine, standing in front of a row of restaurants, Amber a bit ahead of me, scanning over the designs of them, her chestnut curls and the leather backpack with yellow daffodils sticking out only in my sight.

We were getting cold and decided to go to a cafe to get a warm drink or something. Since it was getting really crowded and chilly in the Street Food place, we just walked to find an enclosed space to relax.

"Alright, let's go to this one," she points in the direction of a strange cafe with a shoe molded on the wall of the eatery. Needless to say, it would be the last place I'd ever go to.

As we walk inside, we get met with pink and yellow walls contrasting with green plants hanging from them. Bold.

We get sat next to a circular wooden table with weird clay figurines holding napkins, salt and pepper laying on it. I see Amber's eyes light up at the sight of this eerie place. Does she actually like it?

I get brought out of my observation when a waiter on roller skates delivers us the menus with hats sketched on the cover of them, before strolling away.

Amber looks down at the menu, not even turning pages to the expensive side of it. She knows I'm paying for the meal, yet she doesn't even look in the direction of the high-priced stuff.

The cafe's lights reflect on her skin, giving it a golden glow and making her eyes look much brighter than what they usually are. She lifts her small hand and tucks a few fallen chocolate curls behind her ear, then scrunches up her eyebrows and rests her pinkie's nail between her teeth, as I see her contemplating about what to eat.

My eyes follow the curve of her cheekbones, the line of her jaw, the shape of her eyes, the crease between her drawn-together brows, the blush on the tip of her nose from the cold, the shape of her plump, heart-shaped lips, the curl of her eyelashes, and the frizz on her hair from the humidity outside.

She's pretty. Very pretty, actually.

She lifts her head and scrunches up her brows even more, now that she sees I haven't even taken a look at the menu.

"I don't want anything to eat, do you?" I connect my eyes with hers, hoping she didn't catch me staring.

"Nah, I think I'm just going to get tea." She closes the menu, placing it on top of mine, then looks around the place, as the crease between her eyebrows is no longer present.

"You know, in London, they don't serve tea to Americans," I make up some dumb story to see what else she would drink, if not tea.

I don't think I've ever seen her drink coffee or something.

"You're kidding," she states, but narrows her eyes suspiciously. I honestly thought she wouldn't believe me instantly.

This could be fun.

"Go ahead, and see for yourself," I give her the benefit of doubt, motioning my arms at the oncoming waiter strolling his way to our table.

"You know, this is the kind of situation where I need Sarah to tell me whether or not you're lying." She shakes her head, turning her lips into a flat line.

"Good day, what can I get for you?" the waiter asks, looking between us, as I just nod in Amber's way, putting her on the spot.

She widens her eyes in surprise, but then straightens her back and clears her throat, regaining her composure.

" 'Ello, I was just wondering if it's possible to get a cup of Lemon Balm tea?" she attempts to make an order in a British accent, catching me completely off-guard. I didn't think she'd take me seriously.

"Sure thing, what about you, sir?" the waiter asks me as I try to suppress my laughter at her horrible attempt at the accent.

"Uh, I'll just have water, thank you," I say before the waiter nods and turns away to bring us the order.

Once the waiter is out of sight, I finally let go of the laughter I kept holding in until now, resting my forehead on my hand.

"Do you think he believed me?" she speculates, looking around if the waiter is making tea or not.

"Hard to tell," I answer, and at this point, my cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and laughing.

I feel like she still has no idea I was joking.

The waiter strolls back with a cup of tea and water in both hands, surprisingly not spilling any liquid on the way here. After we've both said our thank you's, he strolls away, the sound of his roller-skates' wheels filling the space between us.

Amber takes the cup with painted prints on it and takes a sip out of the tea. "Mmm... Jolly good!" she says louder than necessary, still in an accent, making sure the waiter hears her.

Sometimes I wonder what the fuck is going on inside her head.

She removes the cup from her lips, revealing a nice smile, and I swear it just lit up the room.

She looks very pretty when she smiles.

"Doesn't 'Sign of the times' premiere tomorrow?" she curiously asks, already emptying half of the cup.

"Yeah, it does," I state, as a matter-of-factly.

"Well, you should get a cake or something to celebrate, then, " she suggests, pulling out some pretzels from her mighty backpack.

"Maybe I will."

"You know, I'm really proud of you. I know a lot of people have probably said that to you by now, but I really love what you've created. Like, it's such a bold move to take a full 180 and do something completely opposite from what you've done before, but somehow it works, ya know?" she takes a sip of tea and bites down on a pretzel after her whole speech, leaving me a bit dazed.

I don't think I remember the last time someone has said they're proud of me.

I mean, apart from my mum, but everyone else has always said things about my songs and work, but never about me. Maybe I'm a bit too ego-centered, then.

"It's weird coming from you, considering you write such good songs," I return the compliment, but she just scoffs in disbelief and slightly shakes her head, not responding.

Wow, she thinks I'm kidding.

When she told me she posts songs on YouTube, I may or may not have watched some of the videos. Like she said, there were a lot of covers from other artists, but there were also songs I'd never heard before, which I'm assuming were hers, like "1 step forward, 3 steps back" or "your power".

"I'm serious. You should write new stuff," I suggest, and she lifts her head, a small smile slipping onto her lips.

"Maybe I will," she recites my previous words, finishing her tea.

"I'll take that as a yes," I suddenly feel very excited to hear the new songs she'll come up with.

Soon after our conversation, Mitch texts me they're ready to go, so we all meet up where we left the mopeds and get back to their hotel to collect the suitcases, then walk to the airport.

We're currently all in the first-class airplane's bar section. Since the plane took off about 20 minutes ago, we're all celebrating the successful filming, as many other people who were involved with the documentary have also joined this plane ride.

"We have the whole plane for ourselves?" Sarah asks, clinking her champagne glass with Amber's.

"Yeah, isn't it crazy?" I say, taking a sip out of my drink.

"What are y'all doing when we get back in LA?" Mitch asks, scrolling on his phone.

"Won't it be like 5am when we land there?" my manager, Jeff comes into view.

"Well, in that case, I'm sleeping," Sarah refills her glass once again.

"Yeah, same, I think I'll take the late shift at the cafe tomorrow, so once I wake up I can go to the supermarket and buy the biggest cake I'm able to find, then eat it all by myself while having a dance party in the kitchen," Amber says confidently, before emptying her champagne glass and disappearing into a lounge room, closing the door after her.

Right, she's continuing to work at the cafe.

I spend the next hour talking to the rest of the band and Jeff about our plans for the next concerts and tour, reminding me to talk to Amber about her tagging along for a few more performances.

I enter the lounge room to see Amber laying on the L-shaped couch, cuddled up in the usual two blankets. She shoots her head up from the noise, but lays it back down once she sees it's me.

I sit down on the opposite side of the couch, discreetly observing her. I watch her lips tug into a smile the moment a big laughing fit erupts from the TV.

I snap my head to the source of the noise to see it playing Friends. In fact, I know the exact episode playing. It's 'The One with the Jellyfish.'

"That's one of my favourite episodes," I note, quietly laughing about the 'Does it?' scene between Ross and Rachel.

"Tell me about it. I almost peed my pants the first time I watched the jellyfish scene," she says, a full smile on her face now.

"You're such a Phoebe," I state and watch her eyes perk up.

"Is it because of the fact I can't play the guitar for shit?" she playfully makes an accusation, raising her eyebrows, "In that case, you haven't seen my amazing masseuse skills yet," she proudly grins, turning back to the TV.

"You know, I could see myself being Ross," I express my thoughts and she just laughs at my statement.

"Ross is kind of an arrogant son of a bitch. I mean, the whole 'we were on a break' thing wouldn't have happened, if he had owned up to his mistakes. But no, he couldn't admit he's sorry," she points out.

"They were on a break, though," I shrug, and she just turns gives me a death glare, leaving no room for arguments, then adjusting her blanket right under her chin, covering her whole body with it, and continuing to watch the show. I honestly forgot why I came here in the first place.

We stay like that for a few episodes, not speaking a single word, just laughing at the right times, until I hear light snores coming from Amber's way. I turn my head to see her features being the most peaceful I've ever seen on her face. Even the other time when I saw her sleeping on the plane, she looked stressed. Right now, she's visibly relaxed.

I turn my head back to the show, feeling somehow weird for watching her sleep. What the fuck am I doing?

I'm way too tired and invested in the show to go back out there and party with the others, so I just prop my legs onto the table in front of the sofa and settle comfortably in my seat.

By the time 'The One with Chandler in a Box' comes up, I notice Amber stir in her place, then shoot her eyes open, connecting them with mine, then furrowing her brows, "I didn't think you'd still be here," she says barely audibly, but in a raspier voice than usual, rubbing her slightly panicked eyes with one hand, clutching her blanket tighter with the other.

I get up from my seat and exit the lounge room to go get something to eat, after asking Amber if she's hungry and earning a nod from her. I return with a sandwich and a bowl of cereal, to see Amber fiddling with the other white beaded bracelet in her hands, a confused look written on her face.

"Didn't you sa-" she starts interrogating, but I don't let her finish, already knowing the question before she even asks.

"Yeah, before this flight, I may or may not have asked the stewardess to bring cereal on here," I quietly say, watching her narrow her eyes.

"Thank you, I was hoping you wouldn't bring me a fucking raisin roll," she jokes, before eating a spoonful of cereal, me taking a bite out of the sandwich. I turn back to the TV to see a different show flashing on the screen. I'm pretty sure it's called 'Glee'.

We stay like that for a few moments, until she turns her head to mine, putting her empty bowl on the table, and quietly faltering, "Harry," as I just hum in response, giving her my full attention.

She continues to anxiously fiddle with the bracelet, not keeping eye contact with me, then finally falter the words I've been wanting to hear, "I-I think I could tag along for those next performances you were talking about."

"You mean, you agree to be in the band for a while?" I excitedly sit up in my seat, almost choking on my sandwich.

"Yeah, I could try it out until tour starts," she quietly continues.

"But what about working at the cafe?" I question, not wanting to get my hopes up.

"I already called my boss. He said I should work for one more week, and then I'm free to go. Did you know my boss is Landon's father? He also owns art galleries and shit like that, so it's not a big deal," she reassures like she's been thinking about it for a while.

"Thank you. I have to tell the others!" I cheer before rushing out of the room to announce the news to Jeff and the rest of the band.

Relief starts filling me, as I had doubted she'd actually join. I guess over the years of being in the spotlight, you learn not to give your hopes up.

What a day.

Amber Easton

I don't know why I was so nervous to tell him this. It's honestly a dream come true to be able to perform with such talented people. I have no idea how I got to this point.

We're currently landing, and I can't help but feel incredibly happy about what's been happening. I kept beating myself up from falling asleep in a room with him again, but I surprisingly calmed down when he brought me cereal. After the filming of the documentary, I've honestly had the best sleep in such a long time. I'm telling you — it's the stress that sends me nightmares.

The light above my head flashes, as I hear claps coming from the other room, indicating that we have landed. I stand up, stretching my arms, then putting my frizzy hair in a messy bun, using my sunglasses as an accessory and putting them on the top of my head, then checking my appearance in the mirror; it's nothing fancy — jersey shorts with a tank top.

I text Olivia I've finally landed, since she's picking me up. I know it's 5:12am, but she has to be on set at 6am anyway, so she said it's not a problem to pick me up and drop me off on the way there. She's honestly the best.

We exit the plane, dragging our suitcases, mine having a pretty butterfly keychain hanging from it. Jeff is leading the way, Harry and Adam going out after him, Mitch behind them, me in the back, Sarah on my left.

What I didn't expect when strolling into the LAX airport, was that there'd be a huge crowd of paparazzi taking photos right as we all step through the gate, surrounding us in a half-circle, leaving barely enough space to move forward.

I perch my black sunglasses on the bridge of my nose, but that doesn't help with the overwhelming feeling of the bright flashes and comments like "Hey, Harry, who's that girl?" or "Is that your new fling?", or "Is that the same girl you were spotted with in London?"

The paps start to point at me, making me flinch whenever they'd get too close for my liking, my hands shaking immensely, one hand still holding the sunglasses, making sure they don't fall, the other trying its hardest to drag the suitcase flawlessly.

I swear it got so crowded, that at one point they even touched me multiple times, bringing back many unwanted memories. The thought alone makes my chest feel even heavier, my breathing getting shallower, my chest contradicting whenever I inhale a large breath. I don't want them to touch me.

What am I supposed to do? If I even talk to them or ask to keep their distance, I'll be drawing unwanted attention to myself, and starting unnecessary drama, right?

I have to get out of here.

I didn't even realize that Mitch is now standing on my other side, remotely shielding me from the ones that got too close, making me appreciate him immensely.

I take a deep breath, feeling the stale air fight its way in and out of my body, a heatwave overcoming me, as I'm on the edge of hyperventilating. What the fuck is going on with me?

You can do it. Take 10 more steps, don't break down here.

I force my feet to move, my knees almost buckling, as we all exit the airport, a bit fresher air surrounding us, the paparazzi getting left behind. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, wanting to sit down so badly. My right hand finds the white moonstone bracelet wrapped around my left hand, taking in the shape of every bead, focusing on every curve and indent, as I feel the heavy atmosphere slowly lift from my chest.

After a few moments of distracting myself like that, I can finally hear the voices surrounding me, Sarah asking if I'm okay, as I just force a nod. The phone in my hand vibrates, probably saying Liv has arrived, so I take off my shades, putting them back in my hair, then rub my face with my hand, my eyes shooting everywhere around the parking lot, to finally meet the familiar black car she always drives.

I quickly say my goodbyes to everyone, having to clear my throat constantly from the lump forming there, and quickly make my way to the car, throwing my suitcase in the trunk and getting in the backseat, instead of the passenger seat.

I see Olivia give me a confused and worried look, but I just force out the words, "Please just drive," before wiping the few tears that resulted in the overwhelming feeling of the touches.

What a fucking day.

***

Yooo how are we feeling so far?
Please tell me if it's getting too cringey, so I can steer in another direction hahah

also Harry mentioned he listened to her songs. If you look up the lyrics for them, you can get a small insight on Amber's past!

^^ for anyone who wants to do that, the songs are "1 step forward, 3 steps back", and "your power"!

you'll be hearing more songs soon!

*insert a bit of drama in the next chapter*

hmmm that vote button is looking really cute, innit?

I love you all,
I'm so grateful you're here,
And I'm very proud of you <3

xx