Diana

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

(Melodie's Point of View): 

        My alarm blared loudly in my ear the next morning and I shot up immediately. Rubbing my tired eyes, I clambered out of bed to get ready for the day. I never did get much sleep, due to the endless nightmares, so every morning was a struggle. I can confidently say, I am not a morning person. By the time I arrived to work at the music store that morning, I had downed my morning coffee and was now awake as I would ever be. 

        I have always been a very musical person, which is kind of ironic, seeing as my name is Melodie. I used to play piano, guitar, and violin when I was younger. However, between school and working two jobs, there wasn't really room for those activities in my life. Which is why I really liked working at the music store. On my breaks I could play the piano and guitars. This job was definitely the better of the two. 

        In the evenings I worked at  a diner, as a waitress. It can really take a toll on you. You always have to be pleasant and happy even when you're not, you're on your feet the entire shift, you have to wear a cliche diner girl uniform that is not comfy in any way, and even though, "the customer is always right," they're really not and they can be pretty rude sometimes. I'm usually ready to pass out, due to exhaustion by the end of my shift. 

        It was going pretty well that night. I hadn't had a single customer angry with me. A joyous occasion, really. It was nearing the end of my shift so I started to bus tables and clean them up in order to help the lady who had the next shift.  It's a common courtesy for waitresses. I hurried to wipe off my last table and collect the dirty plates off of it. When I turned around to bring the waste to the kitchen, I turned right into a man's chest. 

        I think you can tell how awfully clumsy I am by now. 

        I started to apologize profusely as I squatted to pick up the plates that I had dropped in the chaos.

"I don't know what I was doing I'm so sorry. Here let me help you," I rushed, grabbing my rag to wipe off the mac and cheese that had spilled on his shirt, keeping my head bowed.

         He was wearing a white t-shirt. Lovely! You just stained his shirt, I scolded myself and continued trying to wipe off the mess I'd made, making his shirt really wet in the process. I soon began to see his tattoos through his shirt, due to the dampness of the rag and now, his shirt. A large butterfly occupied the exact center of his, may I add, very muscular chest. 

        Suddenly, I felt a hand gently grab my wrist to stop me from my cleaning. Normally, when I am touched by a man, fear shoots through my body, causing my entire body to go rigid. However, this time was very different. Yes, a feeling shot through my body, but it was far from fear. My heart started beating rapidly as I finally dared to look up into the face of the culprit behind this weird experience.

        Here is the part where my freezing powers activated. I couldn't breathe. I had spilled Mac and Cheese on Harry Freaking Styles.

        Even at the concert I was never this close to him. Let me just say, pictures do not do him justice at all. His curled, chesnut hair framed his face and flowed as if he just woke up looking that perfect. His lips were full, pink, and curled up into a smirk. Finally, his striking emerald eyes looked into my own and I was completely and utterly mesmerized and starstruck. 

        I was shook out of my shocked state as he spoke with his deep, British voice and moved my arm with the damp rag in it to hang at my side, but not letting go of my wrist, "Honestly, it's alright. It was my fault anyways. I should have watched where I was going. Plus, it's just a t-shirt, nothing special."