Wanderlust

It only took until the following afternoon for the picture to be taken down. Of course, I couldn't possibly realise it had happened if it weren't for the text message from Harry himself, apologising and assuring me he had no say in it.

It didn't bother me in the slightest, because I knew it was all about management and not about Harry's feelings changing for what he had said. I briefly thanked my lucky stars for the management I had behind me; seemingly more loving than those behind One Direction.

In hind site, deleting the picture was a futile attempt at hiding Harry and I's friendship. The picture itself had been pasted up and down the Internet, from tumblr to twitter to Facebook, it was scarily international, and so the fact that it had been deleted from Harry's site seemed to only fuel the attention to the matter more than the post alone. Paloma had even phoned to both tease and question the situation, though I had told her not to worry because, despite her nagging, the post wasn't confirming anything she had in mind and the removal of it wasn't un confirming it.

In fact, it wasn't until a week after the ordeal that I even thought of it again.

Sitting across from a fresh-off-the-plane Kara Young, I ordered my raspberry pancakes and caught up with my favourite manager.

Kara was in town to accompany me to the Vogue shoot I had - in her words - already put off long enough. It wasn't for several days, but she had insisted we meet for breakfast before she ran her endless errands and I popped back into the studio to meet with Michael.

"So," she began, setting down her cup of coffee as its steam billowed against the outside air.

"Any particular reason your brother isn't taking my calls?"

I blanched, overwhelmingly surprised. "He what?"

Kara nodded seemingly nonchalant, "Yes, very annoying."

I shook my head, brows furrowing as my temper tried to remain dormant. "He's been weird for a while... Since after that night we went out. Before that he was his usual pratty self, but now... It's like he's constantly furious with me."

Kara looked as though she was listening incredibly attentively, nodding and tutting in all the right places.

"After that night you went out, you say?" She questioned, earning a nod from myself. "It couldn't be those Direction boys, could it?"

I considerably thought about what she had suggested, but I just couldn't see it. William had been entirely fine that night, getting along with the lads and even landing himself a girl for the night.

"I don't think so. He has been seeing a girl..." I pondered, trying to remember if this was still a thing. I'd hardly seen my brother, however, so his love life wasn't exactly my strongest subject.

Kara barely seemed to consider this, though. She fluttered her hand about as if I had barely said a thing.

"Those boys, though. Niall, Zayn... Harry. Maybe he isn't fond of them." She suggested, turning her attention back to the cup of coffee.

I shifted in my seat as our meals were suddenly placed in front of us. After thanking the waiter, I tried to understand what Kara was saying.

Will... Not liking One Direction? I wasn't so sure. He had met the boys and seemed fine, and had come in contact with Harry several times and greeted him nicer than he had me. I wasn't sure how
Kara had come to think this.

"I don't- I mean," I paused, thinking. "Has he said something?"

Kara didn't bother to look up from her fruit salad, humming as she swallowed a bite. "No, like I said, he won't even take a call let alone fill me in on his social opinions."

I frowned, hardly interested in my meal anymore and more so in the current conversation.

"Why would you think it's the boys, then?"

Kara took this opportunity to place down her cutlery and dab her mouth with her napkin.

"Well," she pushed away her bowl, apparently just as finished as I was. "I wouldn't blame him, would I? They're not exactly helping you over here. That stunt last week was impossible to clean up, I can't imagine what they'll do next."

"Stunt? What stunt?"

And then, as if someone had waved it blatantly before my eyes, I realised.

"That picture, of course. Do you have any idea how long I was on the phone to Syco for?"

"That was you? You made them take it down?"

I felt like I was dreaming, or more accurately, having a nightmare. Just days before I had thanked my stars for not having a manager as overbearing as Harry's and now I was beginning to think they were equally as insane.

Kara almost looked insulted. "Luce, as if you couldn't see what that picture would have done. You're lucky I don't whip your butt for the walk into that flat, let alone what probably happened in it."

I swear, I had to pick my jaw up off of the floor. Was this conversation really happening?

"Nothing happened in that flat," sort of, "Harry and I are friends," true enough, "and if I want to hang out with him, who's to say I can't?"

"Well, perhaps your album would have some say. You remember your album, don't you, babe? Lucy, I'm not being unreasonable. You've been in London for nearly three months and I haven't heard any release dates yet; all I've heard is headlines of Lucy Callaghan and Harry Styles going shopping and having sleepovers. Do you even want a successful music career anymore?"

Regardless of my nostrils being incredibly flared, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I could barely see in front of me with the red in my vision. Here I was, nineteen years old and entirely independent, and yet I was being scolded like a toddler.

"Of course I do," I stood from our table, screeching the chair and earning several glances our way, "but I also want a life. Which is what I came here for. This trip, moving here, it was supposed to be for me. Not for you, not for the media. Me. Why can't you see that? Why can't anyone bloody see that?"

With my heartbeat near breaking through my chest, I hadn't the willpower to stay in the restaurant for Kara's reply. Instead, I grabbed my bag from the ground and briskly walked away from the situation.

'Did I even want a music career anymore?' Who did she think she was? Of course I did, it was my idea to do so.

What hurt more than the words themselves was who they were coming from. Kara Young had been my manager from the beginning; she knew me inside out and she was accusing me of being slack and owning a bad reputation. It was painful to have that coming from someone so close.

With this situation at the very front of my mind, I headed to the studio. I was bursting to the seams with adrenaline, eager to release the tension within me. And so, with this as my fuel, 'Come Into My Head' was born and blessed as number ten on the album. I almost felt smug at my achievement, had I not been too preoccupied with the thoughts that had created the song in the first place.

I went home that afternoon in a foul mood, not even bothering with my brother who, mind you, didn't bother with me either, and fell straight into my bed.

So far, London had brought me an array of things- friends, fans, music. But at the minute, I was beginning to discover all the things I was losing, like my brother and my manager and even myself. Back home, I never would have dreamt of causing a scene against Kara or ignoring my brother to avoid confrontation, so why was this all happening now?

Was London changing me?