Before you go... //h.s

Coffee

It's weird... it's weird that every day I walk through central park on my way to work. It is such a normal site to me... the pigeons, wandering people, the trees. To be honest, to me it is nothing special. But it's weird because every day without fail there is always some tourists, mouths gaping as they stare around in awe.

But the numbers of these people are normally limited, the majority of people there are New Yorkers, heads down as they rush to work, accompanied by a tense expression and a large coffee.

Today, however, seems to be an exception. There are multitudes of people standing around gazing. Large groups of them, blocking paths and being a general obstruction to everyone who has any sort of purpose, anyone who had a place to be. So many people, in fact, that I had to pull out my phone to check the date, to check that there wasn't some sort of parade supposed to be occurring today.

Huffing an annoyed sigh out of my mouth, I ducked my head as I began to push through the crowds. These people were really fucking annoying me – I was already late for work, despite trying my hardest to not sleep in today.

I continued, tracing the familiar route through the park to Split Bean, the coffee shop I worked at. I had nearly reached the edge of the park, the groups of people thinning and dispersing, finally allowing me to walk normally again when I spotted what I assumed what was the cause of all the fuss.

Harry Styles.

No doubt he was what everyone was waiting around here for, and now I considered it, the majority of bystanders were teen girls; they had probably read about his presence here in some twitter post. He was alone, each of the teen girls whispering quietly to their friends rather than go up to him. I stopped for a split second – I was by no means a super fan of his and didn't obsessively read article after article about him, but that didn't mean I didn't know who he was.

By his stressed expression and look of concern, I judged not to go up to him. Sometimes I felt bad for celebrities, their life constantly in the spotlight, unable to even go and get a cup of coffee without 100 people accosting them, some innocently, others having stalked them for days.

Decision made, hesitation over, I continued my stride, desperate to get to work. I couldn't help myself though, as I glanced back over my shoulder once more at him, my gaze lingering for a few seconds. Unfortunately, he must have sensed my gaze on him because he looked up from his phone, only to for our eyes to meet. As our gaze locked, I sucked in a breath: this man was drop dead gorgeous – despite all the tabloids claiming this, and all the photo evidence I'm sure the internet had to prove it, I'd never really realized.

I gave a soft smile, partly from embarrassment after realizing I'd been staring. My breathing hitched again as I realized he'd been staring just as intensely as I had. Harry Fricking Styles had been looking at me.

He raised an eyebrow at me in acknowledgement, before I ducked my head again and rushed off, a blush creeping into my cheeks.

'Iris you're late again,' Ash sighed, 'you know I like you, but it's beginning to get hard to justify why I employ you,'

'Because I make the best coffee, and you know it,' I gave him a sweet smile and he rolled his eyes before shoving my apron at me.

'Just get the hell out there.' With a soft sigh, trying to not let my annoyance get the better of me, I headed out from the messy crowded back room to the till, plastering a smile on my face.

This was how I spent my days: in this quirky café, wooden floor and walls with a gentle glow of lights dropping from the ceiling. It was by no means an awful job: I got paid fairly and Ash always greeted me with a smile when I was on time and every one of his small actions managed to make me laugh. We talked on my breaks in the backroom and I would even go so far as to consider him a friend.