🎃 Fate Perkins - Oct. 31, 2015
I wish I knew French.
I mean, I took it in high school but I hardly ever paid any attention to it because my teacher was quite awful. I regret not actually learning because on this day, it could've been handy. Though I completely forgot what French words fell from his lips there was one thing I could tell, his eyes showed that whatever he was saying, he meant it and boy did I want to know what he meant; more than I wanted to know who he actually was.
(I'm a sucker for foreign languages, really.)
When reaching the building he holds the door for me like a true gentlemen, my senses immediately being consumed by the smell of coffee and engulfed in warmth. There were only five minutes to closing so we wasted no time in heading toward the counter where an unfamiliar person stood.
My lips part to place my order on the patient Barista but I'm pulled to a halt when Ghosty speaks up from behind me. "Two vanilla lattes, please."
After hearing this, my eyebrows furrow. How did he know I liked vanilla lattes? Never have I told him all night what my favorite drink was. To be perfectly clear, only two people actually know what I - and that's when it clicked. My eyes were wide when he turns around.
"Something wrong?" He asks softly. Now that it's realized, I can easily detect the true deepness in his voice, the British accent (which I already noticed), as well as how slow he talks. How was it not clear before? To think I graduated top ten in my class yet I couldn't tell that the boy I've spent a majority of my night with was Harry Styles.
Harry Styles. The boy Blake told me was interested in me since he first saw me in earlier this year - the boy that was always so nervous around me and knew my order by heart - the boy that I always thought was cute but wasn't my type. (To be fair, I was infatuated with John.) Why wouldn't he tell me that it was him under the sheet this whole time?
I shake my head from these thoughts and look up to him, his eyes now a light green in the florescent lighting. So maybe I'm not all that stupid, for he and I have only been around dimly lit placed making his eyes look a dark green and I've only seen him with light. I still wanted to slap my forehead however, for not realizing this sooner.
I had a crush on Harry.
"Blake?" The Barista calls making me press my lips into a thin line. Wow, he really wanted to keep his identity a secret. Harry's eyes linger on me before turning and taking hold of our drinks, giving a thank you, and then handing me one of the to-go cups. We walk out of the warm building in silence.
"Um, how's your latte?" He asks me hesitantly after a couple minutes of walking and sipping at our warm drinks. I hum a response to signal my positive comment on the drink. My mind still to preoccupied on why in the world Harry couldn't tell me it was him. We've known each other for some time and I'd like to consider us friends and friends tell each other things don't they?
Deciding it wasn't worth getting bitter about, I lighten up the conversation and turn the tables on him. "Now would you like to share what you told me in French, Ghosty?"
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(A/N): SHE FIGURED IT OUT! HALLELUJAH! THANK YOU HARRY FOR SCREWING UP AND REVEALING IT WAS YOU! ONLY NINE CHAPTERS LEFT + AN EPILOGUE! STAY TUNED!
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p.s. i love this gif of her so much x
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