The Way I Feel Inside | h.s.

1

Disclaimer: This is fiction, based solely on my daydreams!

"I can't believe you're leaving early. Again. It's 11:30! The night's just getting started."

I sighed heavily as I stood from the barstool, bracing my hands on the bar top in an effort to show Val just how 'exhausted' I was. Her petite frame was leaned toward me at the bar, her sultry brown hair tossed over her shoulder as she sipped her gin and tonic.

I tipped the bartender for my Jack and Ginger ale, gathered my jacket and purse, and directed my attention back to Val's desperate hazel eyes to tell her the same thing I do every time.

"I'm sure I won't miss anything too crazy. And if I do, I'm counting on you to fill me in." I gave her my best earnest look while I slipped my jacket on, one arm at a time. Then I wrapped my purse over my shoulder so it crossed in front of my chest, resting at my waist.

Val rolled her eyes but she knew my mind was made up. I wrapped one arm around her, pulled her in for a quick hug, then planted a kiss on her prominent cheekbone. My usual peace offering. She smiled at the familiar gesture and waved me off before returning to whatever conversation she was in with the rest of the group. One of her coworkers quickly came over to take the spot I had as it was the only open seat in the crowded place. The woman I didn't remember the name of gave me an acknowledging smile and I nodded as I walked past her.

I looked to Val one more time as I walked away, a small smile on my lips as I watched her chat with her coworkers. She's only lived in Seattle for six months and she already had a solid group of people to hang with.

It's not that I dislike her work friends. I just think they're boring. Val and I have been friends for a long time and I think it's because we are very different from one another. She is more reserved and analytical, balancing out my whimsical nature. But she obviously needs some people in her life who have things in common with her, and these people definitely do that. After over twenty years of friendship, we've matured to the point of understanding that we don't always need to be together to know that we're there for each other.

I've also become quite fed up with the same boring, "So what do you do?" conversations that started when I was about 25 years old, and hasn't stopped since. Everyone's so wrapped up in the idea that your job defines you and it's one of the first things they ask. I just think a job is a job. Some of us get lucky with a job we like. I like to consider myself lucky at my nine-to-five job as a recruiter for a nonprofit company. My boss is great and I can work from anywhere. It pays my bills. But at the end of the day, I work to live. I don't live to work.

It's odd though, that I talk myself through this same exact inner monologue every time I leave early. Makes me miss being 22. I was new to Seattle and I didn't know a soul. Back then, life was a mystery. I got a gig at a temp agency during the week, bartended on weekends. When I wasn't working I was going out, usually with people I met at the bar. I had tons of dates. I should've been a spokesperson for Tinder. It was fun and I was wild. But I guess when you have too much of the same fun, it eventually gets boring. Kind of ironic. So this is me at 27 - opting to go home early after one drink because it's better than pretending to like some software engineer enough to share mediocre sex. Not worth the hangover.

I took one more look around the crowded bar as I walked toward the back door to leave. I wished I saw someone who caught my eye, some guy I wouldn't mind having the "What Do You Do?" conversation with. But no. Just the same guy, with about fifty different faces.

Stepping out into the cool autumn air, my mood instantly lifted. No more pressure to engage in forced conversations over unnecessarily loud music. The back door led to a quieter back street than the front door did, and was also a more convenient route to my secret parking spot. If you live in Seattle long enough, you figure out how to park for free on a Friday night in Ballard. Tonight, my parking spot was about 5 minutes away. I grabbed my pepper spray from my purse and began my walk. I've never had trouble before, but a woman can never be too careful, unfortunately.

People-watching is always interesting on this street - all the back doors to the bars, restaurants, and clubs open up into it, and there is so little traffic that sometimes groups assemble in the roadway. I walked past the usual combination of folks as I do most weekends. Some middle aged men shouting over cigarettes, a couple groups of young 20-something women deep in conversation and tipsy giggles, and several young couples either asking the "What Do You Do" questions, or devouring one another against the bricks. I loved seeing those ones most of all - people so deep in passion and lust that they don't give a shit how unsanitary they're being.

Once I walked past all the loud, lit-up bars, it finally got quiet. I could see my car up ahead, maybe 100 yards away, and I walked to the rhythm of the faint clacking of my low heeled boots. The cool breeze felt nice on my warm cheeks and pushed my long blonde layers behind my shoulders.

Suddenly I heard the sound of labored breathing and shoes clacking much louder than mine. I turned around with concern, expecting to see a woman in distress. Instead I saw a tall, lean, masculine figure. I saw the bottom half of a shirt that appeared to be made of bright blue sparkling fabric, but the person was pulling a black hoodie on over it, so I couldn't get a good look. As soon as the hoodie covered the upper half of their body, the person turned their head over their shoulder as they continued barreling in my direction.

"Hey-" I started to put my arm out but it was too late. The stranger ran into me, sending us both to the ground after falling through a bush that was thankfully there to lessen the impact. My pepper spray slipped from my hand as I crashed to the soil on my back.

"Oh my God," the voice rumbled above me, giving away that this person was definitely a man. He immediately shifted so that his body wasn't pancaking mine to the ground. We were surrounded by the bush we fell through, obviously having smashed a portion of it down with our bodies, but it was dense enough that it surrounded us completely. I stayed flat on my back, stunned, as he hovered above me on all fours, no part of him touching me anymore.

He looked down at me and I lost my breath for the second time. I immediately recognized him. It must've been obvious to him that I knew who he was, because not even a second after the initial eye contact, his gaze intensified to one of worry. He said quietly, "Please, I know this is not looking good, but please, be quiet, for just a minute." His slight English accent was apparent as he paused between his words, and I didn't know if that was just due to his breathlessness or if it was because he usually took long pauses when speaking.

... Which is something I know about him. Which feels very weird to know about him now that I know he is in fact, real. And right in front of my face.

My lack of response was clearly not helping his nerves as he frantically darted his green eyes between mine. He looked genuinely freaked out that I was about to lose my shit. "Please," he begged.

Harry freaking Styles. What the fuck. I couldn't have screamed or said anything even if I wanted to. This is the kind of thing I read about in fanfiction, or fall asleep thinking about, or space out about in a meeting, or on a run, listening to his voice in my ears.

But he was here. and he was right above me. His hips were just on my hips. His legs are next to mine. I could smell him. He smelled like liquor mostly. But underneath that, citrus? The scent surprised me. Of all the smells I've imagined the man to possess, citrus was not one. But he smelled clean, rich even, expensive alcohol on his breath as he breathed down toward me with parted lips.

I couldn't look away from his eyes. It was mesmerizing, watching his expressions change from worried to guilty to hopeful and now, thankful. I just got four different emotions from him in under a minute.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, we broke eye contact.