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vi at the coffee shop right now
vi freaking out
vi ??????
vi i see him now
vi literally walking through the door
vi thank u for all the help
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real life!
I think I'm going to die.
I'm going to spontaneously combust right here in Reggie's Café, in front of all these people, because Harry Styles is walking towards me, and he's got a smile on his face. Never mind how long we talked at the BRITs, there's nothing like meeting under a beating sun, all by yourself, waiters bustling around you, and plates and forks and spoons clinking and clanking. I think he's smiling to ease my nerves—he has to be—but I'm calm, cool, and collected.
"Hey," he breathes out, taking the seat across from me. "You ordered already?"
"Yeah," I say, smiling. "Not sure what you wanted, though, so I'm sorry about that."
He shrugs me off. "'S okay. This is going to pretty quick. Who would've thought making a movie takes up so much time, huh?"
It's a stupid question—of course movies take up so much time—but you've got to appreciate the myth that is Harry Styles. "Oh! You're that cliché pop star turned movie star?"
He chuckles. "I guess you could say that."
"You've got to be more confident than that." In times like these, my mouth has a mind of its own. That's the downside of Kavi Harris getting nervous, and it's why I try my damned best to avoid those telltale signs of nervousness, when my heart starts pounding, my thoughts get clouded, and doom seems inescapable. There's no mouth-running to be done if you stay in your element, with your friends and your music, at all times. "I'll be cheering you on when you get your Oscar! I don't know how, but I'll find my way in the crowd, and I'm gonna be the loudest."
