Finding Yourself

chapter 1

"Shit." I hissed under my breath. This was the second time today I had knocked coffee over someone. I put my hand on my forehead and scrunched my face up at the boy standing in front of me, now covered in coffee.

"I'll get you something to clean that with I-"

He looked down at his coffee stained shirt and laughed. "It's okay, really. I'm Harry."

"I'm... sorry." I say turning around and heading back to the counter. He was quite tall with curly brown hair pushed off of his face and secured in place by a bandana. He was wearing a now not so white tshirt, some skinny black jeans and some old black boots. He had a number of random tattoos down one arm and a ridiculously big smile which showed off the dimples in his cheeks. I wondered back over to the table he was now sitting at and put some paper towels in front of him.

"Thankyou sorry." He said with a grin. Sorry? Why did he... Oh.

"It's Melanie actually." I growled. "But Mel will do."

He leaned back in his chair and looked me up and down. "Okay, Thanks for the-"

"Don't mention it." I rushed, cutting him off. "I've gotta get back to work, sorry about the shirt." I shrugged leaving the table.

I felt his eyes burn into me as I walked away. As I served customers, wiped tables or made coffee, my eyes kept flicking over to him and every time they did, he was looking back at me.

After about an hour he threw the paper towels in the bin and nodded his head in my direction before leaving, not seeming to care about the massive stain on his stomach. I couldn't help but think about Harry for the rest of the day. I wonder what all of his tattoos meant? They all seemed so small and pointless but they must have a reason behind them right?

"Stop it Mel." I tell myself. "You've just got out of a relationship, you don't need to think about any more boys for a while."

I knew I was right but that didn't stop my mind wondering back to how good his hair looked with that bandana twisted around it. That stupid bandana. I turned the lights out and took off my apron before flipping the sign on the door from open to closed and leaving the small coffee shop, in which I seemed to spend half of my life in.