Harry's POV
On my way back to my bedroom, I peeped into the boys' bedrooms and saw them still sleeping. They wouldn't be getting up any time soon nor would they be in the mood for job hunting with a hangover. So I got dressed and got out on my own. I didn't want to be around the boys anyway, given my sudden obsession with a girl I didn't know and who was clearly having quite an impact on the functioning of my brain. This can't be good.
I was greeted by a lovely sunshine when I got out. I halted at the porch, looked up at the sky and smiled. Maybe this weather will do me some good after all. I probably won't even be thinking about the girl by this evening. I set off on my way, not really sure yet where I was headed. Tom's house was about a fifteen-minute walk from where all the hustle-bustle of the island was. I hadn't really thought this through, but hopefully there would be some kind of store willing to hire someone to help out. Life on the island wasn't that expensive, so whatever little money I earned would be enough to live comfortably throughout my stay.
I tried my best to keep my thoughts in check and not think about the girl. It took all of my strength- I thought of the UK, back home, how much I missed my mom- but in the end, I just caved in. It was like she had cast a spell. Actually, more than her casting a spell on me, it felt like it was meant to happen. Like I was supposed to see her yesterday night, in all her vulnerability. Like I was called upon by some kind of power to meet her, though technically we hadn't met yet. It was a crazy thought, but it felt like for some reason, I had to be there for her.
Don't be stupid, Harry, the rational part of me tried to reason, but she still occupied my thoughts until I realized that I had reached the city.
I walked down the first block, trying to decide which shops to actually go for. In all honesty, my mind was far too preoccupied to pay full attention to the whole job hunting process. I was mostly just scanning the places for "Help Wanted" signs, which I knew for sure wouldn't be there as the island wasn't exactly lacking long-term vacationists looking for work.
As I approached a department store, my phone rang. 'Charlotte' flashed on the screen and I suppressed the urge to groan. She wasn't going to give up, was she?
I didn't get the chance to say hello as I took the call and she was already rambling on. "Hi Harry," she said my name in an exaggerated drawl. "Guess where I am." I really wasn't up for these games. "Okay, let me give you a hint. Sprinkles?" Sprinkles? Really?
"I don't know Charlotte."
"Oh come on, Harry. Okay, another hint." Was she fucking serious?
"Ice Cream." I looked around me, and sure enough, there was an ice cream parlor a few shops down from where I was.
"Ahh," I barely had the time to tell her that I was busy and I wouldn't have time to join her when she said, "I am at the third table on your right, outside. I can see you. Join me." And she hang up. I stared at my phone incredulously for a few minutes, stupefied by her attitude.
I considered entering the department store, forgetting she even called, but that would be rude. So I just walked down to the ice cream parlor anyway. I hoped I could convince her that it'd be impossible to join her, but knowing Charlotte, only extreme excuses would get me out of that. I cringed, remembering the last time I tried to get out of a boring conversation with her by telling her that my mom was calling from home. She ended up insisting that she was in love with the British accent and wanted to know how my mom talked, and snatched the phone from my hand. She talked for two minutes straight, not even realizing that there was no one on the other end.
I met Charlotte at a club we went to with Tom, and ever since that night, there hasn't been a day when she hasn't called me. On that night, she was all over me, literally. I loved the attention from girls, what guy doesn't? But there's only so much grinding and roaming hands you can take on your body, especially when your tormentor has a high-pitched dramatic voice and laughs after every single thing she says. Charlotte was basically the definition of stuck-up. By the end of the night, she managed to drag me out of the club, to the back and I am not kidding when I say that she had me pinned against the wall, kissing me so ferociously I could gag. I at least wished she'd been a good kisser, given that I hadn't had a nice make out session in a while.
