The Story // Harry Styles AU

Part 2

Fridays are my days off from school so I work relatively early.  I’ve been at work for a few hours and I’ve already lost count of how many times I’ve yawned. 

“Can you go wash dishes, Poppy?” I hear Leia ask. “I did them earlier.”

I comply and go into the back to wash mug after plate.  I take my time, liking the hot water running over my hands.  Finally, after stacking the dishes in the drying rack, I dry my hands and come back out to the front. 

“Look who popped in while you were ‘round back!” Leia calls to me while she’s pouring creamer into somebody’s coffee.  My heart stops and I scan the tables and couches and chairs.  I spot him.  He’s sitting in a comfy chair in the corner, one ankle resting on his knee, and his worn leather boot is bouncing lightly to whatever rhythm is playing in his headphones.  Harry is staring down at a sketchbook, one end of his pencil stuck in his mouth.  On the side table next to him is a clear plate and a large mug, half empty. “You should go talk to him,” Leia encourages.

“What?  No, I can’t, I’m working,” I grumble.

“Jennifer!” Leia calls, putting the coffee she just finished making on the pick-up counter before turning to me. “Because we are so busy,” she gestures to the store.  Including Harry, there are seven people sitting down, enjoying their drinks and talking. “And this line, it’s out of control,” Leia points to where Max, our co-worker, is standing at the register, staring at his cuticles.  I roll my eyes.

“What makes you think he’d want to talk to me?” I say quietly.

“Because you have a good butt.  So you better get over there before I smack you,”

“What do I say!?” I whisper.

“Just go grab his plate!” Leia shoves me.

“Fine, fine,” I hiss and open the gate that leads behind the counter and I shut it behind me.  I slowly walk over to where Harry is seated.  As I approach, I can see he’s working on a drawing but it’s not quite clear to me from the angle I’m at.  Harry glances up at me through long eyelashes and he smiles slightly. “Can I grab your plate?” I point to it.

“Yeah,” Harry sits up a bit, pushing his headphones around his neck.  I reach to grab his plate but he stops me. “Hey, wait, can you sit for a sec?” he asks quickly.  I glance behind me to find Leia and Max pretending to mind their own business.

“Sure,” I bite my lip and sit in the chair on the other side of the small table.  I watch as Harry plants both feet on the floor before pulling his sketchbook up to rest on one knee, hiding the drawing further.

“What’s your name?” Harry asks suddenly.

“Poppy,” I say quietly.

“Hmm, Poppy,” he whispers. “Nice to meet you, I’m Harry,” I watch him drop his pencil on the table and extend his hand to me.  Oh, I’m meant to shake his hand.  I quickly reach out to grasp his dirty hand and I feel that it’s warm. “Sorry about my hands, I’ve been drawing,” Harry apologizes, pulling his hand back to grasp his sketchbook.

“That’s okay,” I assure him, wondering where he’s going with this.

“I just had a question for you…about my drawing.  Maybe you could help me?” he says slowly.

“What makes you think I can help you?” I wonder.  As far as I know, Harry isn’t even aware we attend the same University.

“I saw you on Wednesday,” Harry tells me. “At the Senior show on campus,” I nod, remembering back to two nights ago in the gallery at school.  I hadn’t seen Harry there but I guess he saw me. “You were looking at a piece of work and I remember thinking how badly I want someone to look at my work that way,” Harry explains, glancing at his sketchbook.  I feel a blush creep up my neck and a tingle of excitement in my fingertips as I wait for Harry to continue. “You’ve got to be an art student then?” I nod quickly and Harry smirks. “So you’re okay with looking at naked people?” he asks and I giggle.

“I believe the term is nude,” I scold him and he laughs as well.

“Sorry, sorry,” one dimple dots the cheek I can see and I bite my lip again. “So you are okay with it?” Harry checks.

“Oh, yeah,” I shrug it off. “After going through Intermediate Drawing 2 with Linette, it doesn’t even phase me anymore,”

“You had Linette?!  I had to sit through it with Henley,” Harry frowns.

“I am so sorry,” I chuckle. “I heard she was awfully strict,”

“The class was all right when she shut her mouth.  God, she talked about the most pointless things,” Harry shakes his head and I find myself smiling along with him. “Alright,” he gets back on track. “So, it’s for a class and I just wanted a second opinion and after seeing the way you looked at the art on Wednesday, I thought yours would be as good as any,”

“Well, I’m honored,” I smile slightly and Harry turns his sketchbook around, holding it out for me to see.

It’s just a graphite drawing as far as I can tell and it’s small, on an 8x11 sketchbook, and the drawing is gorgeous.  The nude model is a young woman and she’s sitting with one leg stretched before her and the other foot flat on the floor with her knee in the air.  One arm is stretched out behind her, holding her weight.  The model’s chin is resting on her shoulder but her eyes are looking up, directly into the viewer’s eyes.

“She’s beautiful.  The drawing is beautiful,” I say quickly after looking at the piece of work for a minute.

“You think so?” Harry asks and I nod.

“The only advice I have is to make your dark areas darker, push them deeper,” I tell him. “But I always had a problem pushing mine when I was in drawing,” I smirk at myself. “And add a background, of course,”

“Yeah, I’m getting to that,” Harry says.

“Do you mind if I look a little closer?” I ask quietly and he holds the book out to me.  I take it gently and stare down at the drawing.  After getting over the beauty of this girl, my eyes travel to each spot in the drawing containing tension because that was what I struggled with in my days of drawing.  Harry’s done an excellent job though and my mind wanders, working to come up with how he’s displayed the weight resting on her hand and the strain in the twist of her neck as she’s looking to the side. “It looks great,” I tell him again. “God, she looks great,” I mumble, handing back his sketchbook. “I swear, they hire the most beautiful girls just to make all the female artists feel insecure,”

“They’re beautiful on the outside, there’s no question there,” Harry says, fiddling with the corner of his drawing. “But I think it’s the inside that an artist really wants to translate in the work which is hard to do,” he shrugs.

“That’s what I’m missing,” I say, pointing to his drawing. “They hire these models because they’re pretty but they’re just modeling.  There’s no emotion behind any of it.  I think that’s where an artist needs to step in and choose the model’s story, however they want it to be portrayed,” I explain.

“What do you think her story is?” Harry asks, holding his drawing back up.

“That depends on the background you put her in,” I smile and he turns his sketchbook around, staring for a moment. “Look, I better get back to work before I get into trouble,” I bite my lip, rubbing the palms of my hands on my jeans. “It was really nice talking to you, Harry, and I loved seeing your work,” I stand up and grab his plate off the table.

“Hey, wait a sec,” Harry stops me for the second time.  I watch him grab his pencil and flip to a new page in his sketchbook.  He starts scribbling something down and he rips off the corner, standing up and handing it to me.  A phone number. “There’s a show opening next Friday at a gallery in the city and I’ve got a piece that’s going in it and I’d love if you could look at it before I hand it over,”

I smile, looking up at him. “I’d love to.”