Farren May, new to New York, rents a place at 23 Cornelia Street in search of her fairytale life that she see's in movies all the time. Harry Styles has been in the city for years now, admiring whatever Greenwich Village has to offer. Extreme and in...
I want to be your sledgehammer Why don't you call my name Oh let me be your sledgehammer This will be my testimony
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The drive to my apartment was probably one of the best experiences of my life. The adrenaline I had from finally being here really kicked in and even though the people here really sucked at driving, I still had a great time driving through the city with Sledgehammer by Peter Gabriel blasting from my radio.
All of the buildings I passed seemed to just get bigger and bigger the deeper I got into the city. When I finally pulled in front of my apartment, I was lucky to find a parking spot right outside and I feel like if I want to keep it, I probably shouldn’t move Betty any time soon.
I get out of the car and head to the back to grab my suitcases, reaching in my pocket to grab my keys so I can open the front door once I get there.
Standing in front of the large doors, I take a deep breath before unlocking it and with the key in the door, I can’t bring myself to open it. I’m too nervous.
That is until someone trips and drops the pizza box in their hands, getting tomato sauce and cheese all over my suitcases. Great. I should’ve just gone inside.
I let go of my suitcases and reach out a hand to him and as he takes it, we make eye contact and I get this weird feeling in my stomach. There’s something off about him but I shake it off considering that I’m never going to see him again. When I help him up he doesn’t let go of my hand until a couple seconds later, wiping them on his pants to get the dirt off of them.
I don’t know why but my eyes immediately go to his hair, the curls that go just below his ear and above his shoulder. They’re a golden brown color and they’re honestly, really beautiful. And then he laughs and I see his dimples indent his cheeks where they meet his lips. Lord help me. He brings me out of my thoughts when he speaks and oh my god. His accent.
Remember that feeling I had earlier? It’s gone immediately when he speaks.
“Wow, oh my god, I’m so sorry. I need to watch where I’m going.” he says as he laughs due to his clumsiness. If I was in his position, I’d be pissed because that pizza looks really good.
“No, don’t worry about it, I shouldn’t have just been standing in the middle of the sidewalk not doing anything.” I tell him as I let out the smallest laugh at the red shade of his cheeks, letting me know that he was embarrassed.
I noticed a hat on the floor that must’ve fallen off his head but, at the same time, he also reaches for it causing us to bump heads. We laugh a little more at each other and he backs away to let me pick it up to hand it to him.
Instead of handing it to him though, I place it on his head and he laughs once more before letting out a soft "thanks."
“I’m sorry about your pizza, it looked really good.” I say as I knock a slice off of my suitcase so it lands on the floor. “New York, I just dropped pizza all over your suitcase and instead of being mad, you’re apologizing for my pizza?” he says, looking at me like I have three heads.
