One Direction Imagines By haileybellhoran

Harry imagine - Emerald Eyes

The weather had picked up, the contrast and glorious sunshine has died down along with the attitude of the pople around you. The rain not only brings in cold winds but depressing attitdues, like the rain is some sort of invection and everyone mopes around like zombies in thick coats. you travel down to the local coffee shop attached to the side of a little strip mall. wrapped in a wool scarp and itchy mittens you crawl inside and the dangling bell from the door signals your entrance. sighing as the invting aroma of bitter coffee and lavender invites you in futher and tag along to the end of the always short line. A usual fake smile greets you as you reach the counter and order a lavender tea, the kind you crave on cold winter afternoons like these. your eyes scan over the little shop peering for an enpty seat, before they land on a lonsome stool facing a large window.

You sit with your face buried behind another book, your legs dangling off the tall stool. A steaming cup of tea rests on the table before you with an inviting sent of lavender. You sigh as you fill your mind with fictional fantasies, hoping one day they'll come true. Another unrealistic story about a boy and a girl as they fall in love blah blah blah, you don't want just another love story, you want the love story. The true, passionate love, the crazy "I can't live without and I don't want to" kind of love. Until then you have your books.

Your eyes scan over every word as your hand blindly searches for the cup of tea. Not wanting to put down the book as it reaches the climax, one of the bigger plot twists as the scene plays out in your mind. Your knuckles hit the side of the cup and before you can react the tea goes tumbling over, soaking your hand in what seems like boiling lava. You hiss and drop your book as the pain from your hand jolts up through your arm. You whimper as your hand sears enveloped in the boiling tea but your embarrassment overrides any reaction as you glance around the shop in hopes no one saw your embarrassing spill and injured hand.

Glancing to your right and older woman glares at you, get glasses resting on the brim of her nose.

"Sorry" you mutter and wave your hand in your best apologetic squeal. Squeezing your eyes shut as you to try and contain from yelping at the increasing pain.

Glancing out the window your eyes are instantly drawn to a figure in the distance with long strides they step closer. A street lamp illuminates his face. A man, with broad shoulders cloaked in beige, a mop of raven curls and a sharp jawline are all that can he seen as he angles his head down to block the spitting rain. The sting of your hand subsides as you attention is locked on the stranger. Your neck cranes trying to get a glance at his completion. Leaning to far, you almost slip off the brim of the stool.

He walks past the shop window, your disappointment aches at your sides. You unwillingly hop off your high stool and rush to collect enough napkins to soak up your spill.

Your hands now filled with the soft white cloth you run back to try and clean up. Crawling down on your knees as the tea drips off the edge of the wooden counter and onto the tile floor in a growing pile.

"Hello?"

Your head jolts up in surprised, only to make contact with the underside of the hard mahogany wooden table.

"Ugh" you grunt as you can now add on a throbbing goose egg to your injury list.

A snort of laughter can be heard as you raise your reddened hand to the bump forming on your scalp. Your knees wobble as you stand, your head spinning as the blood rushes down to your feet and back up. Your fizzy blurry as you briefly close your eyes to find your balance.

"Oh sorry love, are you alright?" A deep voice asks and you can hear a smirk in his voice, your eyes lazily open as you come face to face with enticing emerald eyes. A smile lined his lips as you come back to focus, in awe of the man before you. It's him, the mop of curls and that beige jacket, now standing in front of you. You swear he looks familiar, like you've seen the way his long tan fingers rake through his chestnut curls a thousand times. His hand comes up to cup your hand over the throbbing bump.