Serenity

two

There he is.

There he is, merely standing a few feet away from me. He is breathtaking, just as beautiful as I remember him to be.

He is looking down at a book that is open in his both hands, as his eyes skim the pages. His jaw clenches in concentration and he slightly scrunches his nose to adjust the black-rimmed glasses to prevent them from falling. Usually, he would have strands of his soft hair falling onto his forehead. But instead, he is wearing a dark grey beanie that covers his curls. Although his hat covers most of his hair, you can see the black pen that he has stuck behind his ear. I can't seem to look away from him, as if just being in his presence has put me under a spell.

I come back to reality as he finally looks up from the book and makes eye contact with me, his pupils dilating. That alone causes the bile to rise in my throat and the beat of my heart to pound hard against my chest.

Harry's face softens and he lightly chuckles, "What these people don't know is that psychology isn't considered a science."

He walks towards me, holding out a Psychology textbook to prove his point as I awkwardly let out a noise that is somewhat in between a cough and a laugh. Harry tucks the book underneath his arm and raises an eyebrow at me, "Cora Emerson, am I correct? I'm Harry Styles." He says.

What? I thought Cyrus said that Harry wouldn't remember me. Did he lie to me?

I can feel the heat of my body rising rapidly as Harry stares at me blankly, impatiently waiting for an answer.

"How do you know my name?" I ask a little too quickly as my eyes widen.

"Who doesn't?" He laughs, then suddenly stops when he takes notice of my confusion and bafflement, "I mean — everyone knows you, right? You're quite the talk around campus."

Oh. I mentally smack myself on the head.

"You attend Elmswood College?" I wonder out loud, even though I already know the answer.

How could I possibly not remember this? Well, of course I remember. But how am I able to focus when the person I deeply love who I held dead in my arms, is standing right in front of me?

Harry slowly nods his head, "I do. Of course, you may not know me; I am not as well known as you are.

"Sorry," He quickly corrects himself and nervously chuckles, "I don't mean to offend you in any way."

I give him a small smile, "I'm not offended."

"Alright." He says, looking away.

"Okay."

The tension in the air between us is awkward, too awkward. What do I even say? If I were not to be in a year that I have already lived, I would have run into his arms and tell him how much I've missed him.

Since his death, I have always wondered about the words that would be exchanged between us if I were ever to see him again. The pain and heartache would disappear, we would cry and laugh out of joy, and possibly things would go back to the way they were.

But that is not the case. Here he is standing in front of me, and I have no clue what to say. The pain and heartache still have yet to dissolve.

Avoiding any more stillness, I speak up, "So, are you majoring in psychology?" I assume from the textbook he is holding.

Harry looks at me again and nods his head, "Yeah. What about you?"

"I'm undecided," I reply, earning a laugh from him. I turn to skim the shelves for the book I promised my sister and he watches me.

"Really? So, which classes do you take?"

"I only take four," I say, "English Composition, Calculus, Chemistry with lab, and General Sociology." I walk a little farther down the aisle, running my finger over the binds of the books.

Harry follows me, "Why sociology?"

"I am somewhat leaning towards that major," I reply, glancing back at him, "I'm not completely sure, though."

"You know, psychology and sociology have multiple similarities," Harry says.

I pull a blue thin book from the shelf and look at the cover: an illustration of the solar system and The Pluto Files written as the title. I imitate Harry by placing the book under my arm and turn to face him, "Is that so?" I counter.

He nods, "Yes. We could..you know..get in touch to talk about the classes," He says as if he was asking rather than suggesting.

"Is this your way of getting my phone number?" I joke, making myself laugh and making Harry blush.

"I mean — I guess..if you want," He stutters.

Flashbacks of when Harry was nervous around me swarm my mind. He was always shy the first few months, but that was one of the many reasons why I loved him. His personality was — and still is — comforting and soothing. I have never met anyone like him before, and I don't think I ever will.

I give him a small smile and reach up to grab the pen from behind his ear. As soon as I reach down to connect our hands, a fire ignites throughout my entire body. I know he feels it too, from the way the hairs on his arm stick up from the goosebumps.

Avoiding eye contact, I force myself to hold back the tears of longing to stream down my face. I lift his hand and use the pen to write down eight numbers on his palm, "There you go."

I place the pen into his hand and instead of returning it back behind his ear, he shoves it into the front pocket of his blue jeans.

"I should get going," I say, my eyes never leaving his. I don't want to leave, but I know have to eventually. "My sister is expecting this book."

"Go ahead, I don't want to keep you," He smiles. He is too sweet. "I'll see you around campus, yeah?"

I grin and nod, "I will be looking for you."

Harry and I bid our goodbyes with one more smile. Part of me is filled with longing, as my conscious tells me to turn back around and stay with him until this library closes. The other part me is filled with joy, ecstatic over that fact that I was just in the presence of the man I love, whom is alive and breathing. And knowing that I will be able to see him many more times, makes me all the more happy.

I arrive at the table, and Kathleen looks twice as more confused as before. She snaps her head up from the book and sighs, "What took you so long?"

I open my mouth to reply, but then suddenly my phone chimes. I place the book down and take my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie. The screen lights up with a text message from an unknown number—Harry.

I absolutely loved meeting you, it reads, and my heart warms.

I can't help but smile as I unlock my phone and type back a reply: I absolutely loved meeting you, too.

"Cora," Kathleen calls, bringing me out of my trance.

"Oh, sorry..I..uh..I couldn't find the book," I mutter a fib, sitting back in my spot across from her as she simply rolls her eyes and leans forward to grab the book I had laid down.

My cellphone chimes again and I don't hesitate for a second to check my new message: I wish we could have talked for a while longer.

You have my number now, I reply as I blush, so, we can talk for as long as you would like.

It's funny that I remember having this exact conversation. I would say this is like déjà vu, but the thing is, this is déjà vu.

Many people say that they would love to go back and reexperience a time in their lives all over again. I never understood why, until now. Now, I have Harry again and this time, I don't plan on letting go.