"Lovely"

Part Two (Louis) and Part Two and a Half (Harry)

Part Two: Louis

   On my way out, I stumble over the steps leading up to the door of the bakery. I snap my head around only to see Harry in the window, laughing as he wipes the tables down. He certainly noticed. He gives me a small wave, and goes back to what he was doing.

Harry.

There was something about his name- however common it was- that stuck out to me. It was a very nice name; handsome even. It seemed to suit him well, too.

Harry.

I quite like the way it sounds. And his voice, it had this kind of raspy quality to it that made him all the more charming. He was just so…enticing. That was the only way I could think to describe him. He was indescribable, and unexplainable and completely-

Harry.

He was Harry. That was, in retrospect, the only way of putting it. His name was the only word suitable for him. No matter how hard I tried, it seemed that there was absolutely no proper words I could use that did him any justice.

I wonder if he has a last name. Who am I kidding of course he does. It probably matches his first name like socks to feet, or like a compass to a ship. There was a certainty in my head that whatever his last name turned out to be, it would be just as wonderful as his first name.

All sorts of thoughts like these filled my head the entire walk home. It seemed that the way back was a lot shorter than the way there. My walk before had been a quiet sort of saunter, and now it was rather quick and skippy. There was no possibility of me calming down, and from the back of my mind, I knew I probably wouldn’t sleep tonight.

But for some reason, I didn’t mind at all.

~

  I slid my right hand into the pocket of my sweater and rested it there. It was around four o’clock, and the breeze was starting to pick up a bit. Thinking back now, I should’ve worn a proper jacket; but in my haste to get out of the house, practicality had slipped my mind. Oh well, I wasn’t too far from the house anyway. Holmes Chapel is not a particularly big place, and just about everything is within a twenty minute walk from home.

I finished my tea relatively quickly, tossing the paper cup into a trash bin on the sidewalk. I felt bad throwing it out, Harry’s writing on it and all. Is that pathetic? I don’t know, perhaps it’s a bit weird. I definitely won’t be telling anyone about that.

With my tea hand now free of my tea, I place it into the other pocket of my knitted sweater. My bag slips behind me, bouncing off my bum as I walk. The wind picks up more, sending a cold rush up my back. I dig my fingernails (or what’s left of them, I have a nasty nail biting habit) into the corners of my sweater pockets. When I do so, I feel a crinkly, rough object in my right pocket.

Why hadn’t I noticed that before?

I stop my walking, and pull the paper out. It’s the receipt from the bakery, and it’s all wrinkled. Despite this, I can perfectly make out a scribble of black ink on the back:

It was lovely meeting you today. I can’t wait to see you again! Please come back here soon.

Harry x

PS- Give me a ring sometime, its +44 5879563245

I nearly dropped the receipt for my excitement. My hands immediately go to cover my mouth. I squeal through my fingers, kicking into the ground with the ends of my shoes repeatedly. I don’t think I can make any words, for when I try to it only comes out as little wails of delight. Not unlike a toddler on Christmas. I grip the paper in between my trembling fingers, and run the rest of the way home.