Harry Styles Imagines

First Time You Meet (Your P.O.V)

You are slightly jogging down the busy sidewalk of a street in New York. There's a Starbuck's cup in one hand, and a donut in the other. You, being your clumsy self feel yourself trip over a crack in the pavement. The coffee cup flies out of your hand--luckily it doesn't fall on you. You manage to save the donut, but your elbows are all scraped up. You lay on the stoned ground--stomach first--hoping someone offers you a helpful hand. The people around you seem to be going out of there way to avoid you. You sigh as you begin to stand up unassisted. As you are almost to your feet, you feel someone pulling you up from behind. When you turn around you find a man smiling at you.

"Are people always this rude?" The guy talked in a British accent. His voice was laid back, and a little bit husky.

"This is America. Yes." You reply.

The smile remains on his face, his dimples perky.

"Are you always this clumsy?"

"Yes." You blankly reply.

You try to step around him, but he cuts you off. The people behind you tell you to move, but he doesn't budge an inch.

"I have things to do and people to see, so if you were wanting to stand there all day, could you please let me through first?"

"I would, except I feel guilty." The smile on his face lowered into a fixed line.

"And why is that?" You ask, beginning to grow annoyed with him.

"My mum always told me to treat a girl with respect. You passed me a little ways back, and asked me to move politely. I didn't, which caused you to take a different path, causing you to trip over that crack."

You laugh, which he seems to like.

"I'm Harry." He holds out his hand.

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