sharkbait \\ h.s

14

hey california. this is gonna be kinda weird and you might get a little creeped out and im sorry because this probably isnt going to make much sense when you read it because you dont remember who i am which kind of depresses me but ill get over it someday maybe. btw excuse my improperness and stuff im too lazy to write correctly today. im gonna cut right to the chase here and just tell you that i love you. and if you happen to read this years from now if we ever do manage to run into each other in some random restaurant that ill of course be the manager of, i should probably reintroduce myself. im harry styles and im a year older than you and i should be a junior but im not because i suck at math and they held me back and i have this brown curly hair and these green eyes which youve told me before that you "love the way they get really green when im happy" and when i heard you say that you laughed at how green my eyes got and then they got even greener because you laughed and this has nothing to do with me but i feel like if youre reading this because youre going through some tough time after a breakup with a boyfriend or something that i should tell you that nothing ive done in the last however long its been has had anything to do with me because i can only think of you all the time and it hurts because i know you arent thinking of me. im taking up the whole page so im gonna stop now but ps my eyes werent very green at all when i heard you didnt remember me anymore. oh yeah and im in love with you and probably always will be - h x

--

"Holy shitballs."

Apparently Ariana had a yearbook signed for me at the end of sophomore year because she knew I wouldn't be able to get one myself. She hadn't realized it until we were at her house, digging around in her pigsty of a bedroom for what could be our tenth grade yearbook, and when we found one: "Oh my god! I forgot about this. It's your's."

After reading Harry's words on the autographs page at the back of the book, I want to cry, because it all hits me at once.

Sophomore year. Harry. Me. Friends. Love.

All of a sudden I can see everything so clearly. I remember.

Ariana notices. "Oh my God," she said. "You just remembered, huh? Holy shitballs. This is just like the movies. Holy shitballs."

I grab the yearbook and push myself off the floor, ready to leave. "I have to tell him."

"Dude! You can't leave." Ariana begins to stand up, too.

I stop in front of the door. "I have to tell him," I repeat.

"Call him. He left his number." And the dumbest part is, I've called him before. I know his number deep down, but not by heart, and I shouldn't have to get his number from a page because I should know it already.

"That was years ago."

"Try it. I bet he never changed it."

"Why wouldn't he?"

She laughs and shakes her head, as if I just asked the dumbest question. "I can't change my number," her voice drops an octave lower, mocking Harry in the most dramatic way. "If California ever reads this she'll want to call me and if I change it and she calls the wrong number we'll never be able to rekindle the burning passion between us."

I snort. "You're kidding."

Her head continues to shake. "Call the number."

--

Ariana was right.

Ten minutes later, I'm on the phone with Harry, Ariana sitting on the floor by the bed where I'm sitting.

I struggle with my words, trying to figure out the best way to tell him I remember him from all those years ago.

"Harry," I say slowly.

He stops talking. "Cali."

"I have to tell you something."

"Shoot."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and look down at Ariana, who has been smiling this whole time. I told her I remembered her, too, and that made her get all giddy and happy.

Before speaking again, I take a deep breath. "I remember," is all I say.

"Remember...?" Harry says.

"You. Me." I feel like crying. "Us."

"Oh. Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'm coming to pick you up. Where are you?"

I tell him I'm with Ariana, and he doesn't say anything except for okay before hanging up. He calls back seconds later.

"Ariana Bonfiglio? From sophomore year?" He sounds winded.

"Yes."

"Why? Never mind. There's a park down the street from her house, yeah? Meet me there."

I don't manage to reply before he hangs up again.

I say goodbye to Ariana, promising that we'll hang out again soon, and as I'm leaving, Cameron shows up. His familiar eyes bore into mine for a brief second, then he smirks at me and steps past me into Ariana's apartment.

Harry doesn't get to the park for ten minutes after I arrive. When I see his Thunderbird come around the corner, my heart begins to race and my eyes start to pool with tears.

"Hey," Harry says as he gets off his bike. "Hey. What's wrong?"

I sigh. "Nothing."

"You're crying."

"I know."

"You're crying but nothing's wrong?"

Instead of responding, I reach up and put my palm to Harry's cheek, pulling his face closer to me so I can kiss him. He jumps in surprise but soon regains his composure, grabbing my waist and pulling it to him. The air around us is cold, but my body warms with his touch.

This kiss is different than the one we shared that night on his bedroom floor.

This time, instead of sadness, it was full of need and love. And I didn't know I needed him or that I loved him, but in this moment I can see that I had along, and all it took to make me realize it was my unknown tenth grade yearbook at the back of my unknown best friend's closet.

Harry pulls away too soon.

His eyes are a bright green when I look into them, and I laugh.

They get even greener.

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