Summer Styles (Harry Styles)

Meet Up

I never realized how big this airport was. In fact, I've only been here once. Dad had a "family friend" come a few years ago. That was a week to remember. The guy brought his idiot son who happened to think I was a "fine piece of ass" and tried to sleep with me, more than once. He actually got into my bed one night. I wish I had my pepper spray and key chain then.

By the time I made it passed security, my flight only had 5 minutes until take off. Here I am, the planner, running late for a flipping plane. Go figure.

I'm basically running through the airport when I hit somebody. It wasn't a small bump or anything of the sort. I hit this poor guy and he falls back with me landing on top of him. After a moment of confusion by the both of us, he reaches up and cups my cheek.

"Are you alright?" He asks in this beautiful accent, obviously from England.

"Umm yeah. I think," I say, still laying on top of him.

I meet his eyes. They are so beautiful, the color of emeralds, bright and brilliant. Then I make my way to look at his lips. They are so pink. The white pearls hidden behind them were just as beautiful. Finally, I make my way to his hair. His locks are a toss up between curly and wavy. One strand was hanging in his face. On impulse, I reach up and move it back. Perfect.

As I come out of my bubble, I realize that I am laying on top of a complete stranger in the middle of an airport with minutes to catch my plane.

"Oh my. I'm sorry. I didn't see you there," I stammer as I hurl myself out of the ground easily. Maybe I should have worn athletic wear after all.

"Don't worry about it," he says, very slowly.

The light bulb finally came on. I just ran into Harry Styles. And here I am, seeming like a clumsy idiot.

"Well sorry again. I'm about to miss my plane, so I have to go," I finally gather the sense to form this small sentence.

I'm no where near an obsessed fan, but I have a hard time containing my excitement when meeting this guy.

As I turn to walk away, a large hand grabs my arm. On instinct, I flinch away. I peer into slightly hurt eyes when I turn around. The hurt goes away when I flash a smile, "yes?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

I wanted to say yes. I'm fine. I would be even better if you pull me into a hug and kiss my forehead and make all the embarrassment from what just happened go away. I settle for saying, "yeah. I'm fine. Thank you." With that, I walk away.

Yet again, I turn from this guy who I thought was an immature, little brat, but turns out to be a really sweet, humble man.

There is a loud beep over all the airport. A person comes on saying, "flights 546 to Paris, 372 to Prague, and flight 836 to London were now taking off."

My eyes go wide. What?! This cannot be happening. I was almost there. If I hadn't ran into Harry, I would have made it. Oh no!

I take a seat on a bench right beside me. I can feel my knees begin to buckle and tears start to pour from my face.

I look up for a moment when I sense that I'm being watched. Of course I'm being watched. I'm a young girl, who is incapable of making the responsible decision of refunding my ticket when my best friend ditches me.

Looking around, I find a set of emerald eyes glued to mine. I look down. I know my mascara is running now. There is no way around it. Suddenly I feel a strong hand on my shoulder.

"I knew you weren't alright," says the young British man.

I can't help but laugh at his words. He thinks I was hurt when I fell on him. I mean, his abs are hard, but not that hard

I look up, his face softens even more.

"Come with me," he orders and helps me up, taking my luggage in one hand and helping me walk with the other.

We walk for what seems like hours, but it's only a minute or two. We enter a room. It looks like a conference room. I didn't think they would have anything like this in an airport. Harry leads me to a couch and eases me down. He leaves, and seconds later, he returns with a bottle of water.

"Drink," he says.

I don't have to be told twice. I need some hydration. In one gulp, I almost finish the whole bottle. After setting the bottle on the table beside me, I turn to see him smiling, a small smile, but it hits his eyes and they sparkle with this gleam and shine.

"So, I get the feeling that this isn't from you running into me," he didn't really say it. It came out more like a song.

Maybe I'm delusional. Maybe the hit was harder than I thought.

"You can only imagine the morning I've had."

"I won't have to imagine it if you would tell me about it," he says. I never noticed how raspy his voice is.

"Well," I start. I didn't know how much to say about it. Did he really want to know? Or was he trying to find out why this pathetic girl was crying in the airport all by herself?

"You can trust me. I'll just sit here and listen to as much as you want to tell me. I'm Harry by the way."

"Hadley," I say in response. Did he really think I didn't know who he is?

When he gives I bright smile, I start my story. I tell him everything. The plan with Payson, the way she ditched me, my refusal to refund the ticket, everything.

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up. "For one, your friend doesn't seem like a very nice person. Second, in relation to your missed flight, you can come with me back to London."

I stare wide eyed. He just looks at me, waiting for conformation, as if he were telling me to come with him, not asking me if I would like that.

I nod. I can't seem to develop a sentence around him.

He smiles and tells me to finish my water, then goes on saying that he has a show to do this afternoon, and, tonight, we head for London.