Come Wake Me Up *A Louis Tomlinson Fanfiction*

Chapter 2- Small Talk with Sprinkles

Hazel's POV

Hands up, he walked out of the shadows into what little sunlight was inside the shop. With that little action, a million thought swirled inside my head.

Phew, he doesn't look like a murderer. But appearances can be deceiving...

Speaking of appearances, he's quite easy on the eyes.

Holy mother of cowbells, this guy is HOT! Oh my goodness.... those shoulders!

Wait a second, I may not be in the clear yet. A few seconds ago, I though I was going to die but now I'm calling him hot? HOLDUP.

But he's so... perfect-looking. What is he doing here anyways? Since when do hot teenagers randomly show up at your work at sunrise?

Damn, I knew I should have worn something nicer today. Well, I tell myself that every day but... I probably look terrible!

Suddenly uncomfortable and self-conscious, I patted some flyaway hairs down and gave him another once-over. 

He was definitely a high school graduate already, like me, but he didn't seem over 20 yet. Maybe a little older than I was. His body was tall and I could see the definition of his strong muscles through his tight-fitting white T-shirt. He wasn't built like a swimmer or surfer like most guys that lived here. Was he not from around here? Or did he just not like the ocean?

Past the dark, comfortable clothing that had alarmed me so much to begin with, there was a face most girls would swoon over in a heartbeat. His glossy, fairly wavy hair was swept over his forehead in a messy but not accidental way. It was purposely rumpled to give a casual yet insanely attractive look.

I wonder what his hair feels like. For a guy, it looks really soft and healthy. What kind of shampoo does he use? Maybe Pante-

Woah, what am you thinking? Freakay alert. It's a good thing he doesn't know what you're thinking or he would have ran away a while ago.

The light brown hair framed his chiseled face and strong jaw. His high, defined cheekbones were to kill for. He wasn't crazy tan for someone in California during the summer, but he wasn't pale either. The young man had a natural glow about him, and he held himself with confidence.

But the most captivating thing about him were his eyes. I've always thought people's eyes were the windows to their souls, and his showed a world of confusion. They were a mystery, and I knew I would never be able to decide exactly what color they were. One second they looked crystal-clear blue, and then upon my terrified reaction they had flashed a stormy grey. Now, in the light, they were greenish-blue, almost turquoise like the ocean waves outside.

His thin, unchapped lips moved to form words and I realized a little too late that he was saying something.

"Sorry I scared you. I didn't mean to intrude. I won't hurt you, promise," he said with a slight accent, British maybe?

OMG please keep talking. I love accents.

"I was talking a stroll and saw this little shop was open, so I wanted to take a peek inside. I heard you singing and didn't want to disturb you."

Stroll, take a peek, delightful? Definitely from England. And he heard me singing? Yikes.

Wait, how long was he standing there for without me knowing? He should've said something. Rude.

He smiled, revealing a straight row of perfectly white teeth. In contrast to his tan skin, the smile was totally magazine-worthy. It was adorable, making him look younger and friendlier.