Free Fall (Harry Styles)

Chapter Two

A/N: Thank you so so much for reading Free Fall! Just a heads-up: the first few chapters will definitely be a little short, but that's just until the plot picks up! So expect frequent updates (most likely daily updates) for a bit while we all get a feel of the characters and the book :) I want this to feel like you really know the characters and feel immersed in the plot! Only two or so more short chapters 'til we really get into it... Hang tight! 

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I find myself stuck to the ground with my head tilted up as I watch this rude mystery man turn on his heels and walk away. I may only have two friends, one of them being a man in his 60s, but I'm pretty sure that social etiquette calls for helping someone up after knocking them to the ground. I gather myself and my thoughts and lift myself off the ground. "Thanks a lot for the help," I scoff under my breath, for only myself to hear, but to no avail, the mystery man is somehow still within earshot. "Help for what? It's not my fault you're a clumsy mess," he turns around, his eyes covered by dark sunglasses. Now that I'm standing, I can see how tall he really is, that being said, I stand at barely 5 feet tall. I drink in his appearance; long, brown, curly hair, a chiseled jawline clenched in annoyance. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt with tattoos littering his arms, and I can see the silhouette of the many tattoos gracing his chest through his thin shirt. "Are you done staring?" He scoffs again, "Aren't you the help..." He gestures to my nametag, "Topanga?" His voice rises an octave as if he is asking a question. "Pretty name for a stupid girl," he tuts. My head snaps back down in embarrassment as the heat rushes to my cheeks, and I silently thank God for my olive complexion, which hides my blush. "I-I-I'm so sorry," I stutter, at a loss for words. I'm used to hearing these harsh words spill from the mouth of my ex-boyfriend, but to be on the receiving end of these harsh words laced with venom from a complete stranger has caught me completely off guard. "Is there anything I can help you with? W-we just got a bunch of new novels in the fiction section, I can show-" I begin to word vomit to try and please the grumpy customer looming over me. I look up from staring at my feet, and all I see is his back turned, walking to the front of the store. What the fuck just happened?

I once again gather my thoughts, but I'm pretty shaken up. After getting berated on the phone by Oliver and dealing with a rude customer, I need to calm down and get it together. I dust myself off, figuratively and literally, as I had just fallen, or rather just been pushed, to the ground. I make my way to the front of the store, the man still perusing through the selves. I busy myself with rearranging the front table filled with the latest and most popular sellers. Books 'N Such has exactly the demographic you would expect of a bookstore owned by a local, older couple. Lots and lots of regulars whose appearances always make my week. There are, of course, older friends of Edna and Mr. Grant's, who always opt for classic literature that I make sure to keep on the front table. We also have regulars from the local high school down the street, a sweet group of a few boys and girls, who are definitely going through their "angsty" period of life, so I make sure to keep copies of Perks of Being A Wallflower, The Catcher in the Rye, The Virgin Suicides, among plenty of other angsty, coming-of-age books. The kids notice this and I always make time to chat with them about my recommendations and what helped me through high school, and they always report back to me their thoughts. Then there are the fleeting customers, the occasional businessmen looking for books on finances, the middle-aged men and women looking for self-help books. But I always make sure to put my favorite books on the front table: If He Had Been With Me, A Little Life, and Me Before You.

As I pretend to keep myself busy, I peer over at the brick wall of a man as he looks over the books I had carefully displayed. His long fingers, clad with rings, brush over the various books, yet he doesn't reach to pick any up. It's as if he is contemplating something. His side profile is strong, with his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. Within our minute-long interaction, I had already gotten the sense that he was an angry man. A troubled man. As I observe him, I see a man about 5 feet away from him, standing in front of the store's front door, dressed in all black and with a wire coming out of his ear. As I snap out of my observational trance, I look around and notice that there is no one else in the store but me, Mr. Grant, angry-mystery-man-prick, and what looks like to be his henchman. I avert my gaze from the scene and continue to busy myself with organizing the shelves, but just as I do, I hear footsteps approach me. "Any recommendations, clumsy girl?" It takes me all of my power to muster a customer-friendly smile and look up at the man, who, now closer to me, looks younger than I had thought. With his jaded attitude, one would think he's lived 70 years of hell on Earth, but as I look up at him, there's no way he's older than 25, if that. "All of the books on the front table are my recommendations for our usual customers, I'm sure you will find something there that will pique your interest!" I respond with a sickly sweet tone, avoiding his eyes that are still masked with dark sunglasses despite being inside and the gloomy weather outside, accompanied by an even sweeter smile. Kill them with kindness, right? "Mmm," he hums, "James, grab me the longest book on that table," he demands, without leaving his gaze on my face. Even though I'm avoiding eye contact as I continue organizing the shelves, which by now are already perfect, I can feel his eyes beating on me like the sun on an impossibly hot summer day. "I'll have those rung up for you right away, sir!" Mr. Grant's warm and soft voice immediately brings me comfort, although it's odd to hear such an older man refer to someone so young with so much...I can't even say respect, maybe even fear?

I continue to avoid any and all eye contact with the man standing over my shoulder and suddenly feel my whole body relax, and his footsteps indicate his departure from my personal space to the register. The man, along with his little sidekick, and by little, I mean huge and muscular, are checked out by Mr. Grant. "You're all clear to open the shop to the public now," says an unfamiliar voice, who I assume to be the man in all black. "And maybe hire someone useful who knows how to walk properly," I hear that prick's unmistakably deep and gravelly voice scoff out as the door opens and the bell rings, signifying their departure. What a fucking asshole. Maybe he should be friends with Oliver, I'm sure they would get along swimmingly.

"What a waste. Kids shouldn't get so famous so young," Mr. Grant speaks out into the bookstore, now containing just the two of us. "It's like they lose all their morals," he continues, speaking as though he knew whoever it was who just so kindly graced us with his presence. "Who even was that?" I ask, shocked that I didn't recognize this alleged celebrity. "Never would I think I would see the day where I'm more hip than a teen," Mr. Grant chuckles, knowing I hate being referred to as a teenager. "Ha ha, very funny," I retort dryly, "did you know him? It sounds like you do," I follow up, curious about his comments that alluded to his familiarity with the man, or boy, or whatever that asshole is. "That lovely boy, my dear, was Harry Styles," Mr. Grant responds sarcastically and as if that name should hold any meaning to me.

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I'm back! Also, woah 30 views!! I know that might not seem like a lot but to me it is and I'm sujpe grateful. Thank you so much!! Also shocker, the dark, mysterious asshole in the bookstore is none other than you know who! I know he was barely in this chapter but soon enough he will be a recurring... nuisance. Also, there was a bit of confusion about how Topanga ended up in London! Topanga is initially from Boston, Mass. but moved to England two and a half years ago to study at the University of Oxford, where she met her now-roommate, Marley, who was a senior when Topanga was a freshman. After her first semester, Topanga took time off school for reasons later to be revealed and moved to London with Marley after Marley graduated. So sorry for the confusion, I hope this clarifies things :) See you sooooon for chapter 3!