the romcom diaries [HARRY STYLES]

Hello Stranger?

genevieve pov

The week had been to stressful already, if it wasn't suffering with writers block it was my mum constantly nagging at me, for everything. She was on holiday, at the moment, with my pops— a holiday she'd been on for the last two months. Yet, she still managed to get under my skin a thousand miles away.

She really was the charmer.

I needed some stress relief and a quiet, late night walk was all I wanted. I made my way through a park relatively close to my house, listening to some audio book I'd bought ages ago and never got around to hearing. It was peaceful, really, besides the crows scaring me shitless.

I made my way down another path, on the route home, deciding it was getting late and I was getting increasingly tired.

As I walked down the quiet streets, a figure appeared from a bench nearby. I gulped, hoping my reckless mind wasn't overthinking it. Yet, I still walked a little faster, hands dug into my pockets.

"Scuse me, love?" A slurred voice sang from behind me, clearly a drunk man by the way he was stumbling, "Don't happen to have a lighter, do you?"

My heart rate was speeding by now as I turned my head, still walking, "N-no, I'm terribly sorry,"

"You sure?"

His voice sounded less drunk now and my brows furrowed at the realisation. I sped up my walking by a lot, practically speed walking in a hope he wouldn't find it too suspicious.

When I looked behind me, there was another man now and they were walking at a similar pace to mine, almost running.

My brain was shooting so many thoughts I couldn't breathe, or it felt like I couldn't.

I'm going to die, repeated several times.

I started running, running as fast as I could even if it brought attention to me.

I wasn't even thinking straight as I bolted down an already occupied alleyway.

"Help, please," I called out to the two shadowed men, who quickly snapped their heads in my direction.

If these were serials killers, or rapists, I was seriously fucked.

The man on the left was shooed of by the one on the right, who shoved something into his black pocket. I could only see the tall silhouette as I ran, and the reflection of his hair. It was long. In fact, it reminded me of someone.

The men caught up to me, making their way down the alleyway as I ran faster, my head shooting behind me until I slammed into the shadowed man. They stopped in their tracks and I was too fussed to apologise.

I finally looked up.

The warm light of the street lamp shone on his face. Those beautiful green eyes that pierced into mine, that long, curly hair that swooped to one side and that shiny leather jacket. Harry. He looked down at me briefly with furrowed brows, before gazing at the men at the end.

"Harry," I whispered.

He ignored me, still gripping onto the side of my jumper as my chest heaved, blocking out the rest of the world, just staring at him.