heart tattoo (harry styles)

two

My mouth falls agape at the sight of his tall frame. Could is possibly be him? Could he possibly be here? My eyes blink rapidly in an attempt to focus my brain. I must be imagining things. Harry is home in England.

The swirling doubts occupying my mind are silenced as his gaze meets mine. His lips part slightly and his jade eyes expand, a dumbfounded look painted on his face.

He remembers. Harry remembers me. Images of him dropping the paperwork from his hands and sprinting across the room to lift me into his strong arms flash through my mind.

I stand, unmoving, relying on the frail thread of hope I have that he will do just that, but my hope is quickly cut short. Harry's eyes snap back towards my father and he continues in his conversation. It appears that he hasn't given our unexpected reunion a second thought.

I don't know how he realistically should have behaved about the situation, but I know for sure that a small wave should have as least been aimed in my direction.

Why is he here in the first place? For one, he informed me at the end of camp that he would be returning to England immediately. Secondly, since he has decided to stay here in America, why on Earth would he be in this small Delaware town? And finally, why is he asking to be hired at my family's diner?

My father suddenly comes to a halt in strolling around the diner with Harry by his side, and grabs a plate from one of the booths that a customer has finished. He excuses himself to the kitchen, leaving Harry standing barely 5 feet away from me at the long counter top.

I focus on my hands and attempt to ignore his stare. The sounds of quiet chatter amongst elderly customers and the clank of plates has suddenly become much more magnified in my awkward state. Please Harry, just walk over to me. Please stop ignoring me.

I peer up at him to find his eyes focused on me, but quickly snapped away once I catch him.

What the hell.

Maybe he's just trying desperately for my father to win his trust and grant him the job. But, my father isn't here right now. Why is Harry acting as if he doesn't know me?

A elbow poking into my side causes me to jump. I turn my head to find Lea, the little redhead at my side. She is dressed in denim shorts and a t-shirt, with an apron draped over her shoulders. She holds a dish towel in one small hand and a plate in the other. "I think the new guy likes you," a playful smirk stretches across her lips. "He's been staring at you ever since he got here."

"Yeah." My voice is dry and bland, not in the mood for any discussions about a certain tattooed boy.

Lea continues, not picking up on my irritated mood. "I wish guys like that strolled in here everyday looking for a job. That one is one hot piece of ass," she wiggles her eyebrows.

"Sure is," I decide to play along with my friend. I am not at all shocked by her very outward comments, as that is normal for Lea, but I am slightly offended that the words are directed towards Harry. Not that it really matters though. He doesn't seem to care about me anymore, anyway.

"I can almost picture it now," she continues. "He'll work with us for a while, suddenly find himself having an interest in a certain blonde with blue eyes," she raises her eyebrows toward me," and before you know it he'll be leaning in, getting his lips all up on yours and then he takes you to his house-"

"I think that's enough of the story, Lea," I end her imaginative love story between Harry and I. The way she speaks of him stirs something in my stomach that is not pleasant at all.

"Awww, is Hayden getting all defensive of the dreamy boy," she leans across the counter on her elbows and her long lashes flutter up and down.

My eyes quickly travel over to Harry, who is nervously bending the edges of his paperwork, his eyes focused down. I wonder if he can hear our conversation.