Author's Note: My writing in these first few chapters is not as good as my writing in Chapters 5(ish) onward. Bear with me, I promise it gets much better!
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CHAPTER 1
In through your mouth, out through your nose I silently repeat as I mentally prepare myself for the last half mile of my run. Was it in through your mouth? I loved jogging, but these "helpful" breathing tips were more of a distraction than anything else.
I alternate inhaling through my nose and then through my mouth, contemplating which way was correct. Definitely inhale through your nose, I think to myself right as a red Fiat whizzes by, angrily blowing its horn at me. Snapping out of my daze, I realize I am jogging nearly in the middle of road. I silently apologize to the driver by offering a friendly wave, and quickly return to the sidewalk, my breathing getting heavier with each stride.
As I jog up the remainder of the hilly street, my lungs feel as if they are going to burst. Granted, I was running through the streets of London, so that made the pain I felt in my chest much more bearable. I certainly wasn't going to complain about my scenic run, and with only two days left of my stay in England, I had every intention to maximize my running opportunities.
Casting my gaze up from the cracked sidewalks, I pass a cluster of high-end shops with little lofts nestled above. I can faintly make out the hotel I am staying at in the distance. Focusing on finishing my run, I glance at my watch. I estimate that if I can make it to the hotel in one minute, that would put me finishing my 3 mile jog in about 27 minutes. Satisfied with the decent time, I inhale deeply, and increase my speed, pushing forward towards the hotel.
Right away, I know my faster pace is a mistake. My feet feel extraordinarily heavy below me. A wave of exhaustion consumes my body. Looking for any way to finish my run sooner, I impulsively turn onto a side street that I judge to be a potential shortcut to the hotel. Taking in my surroundings, I notice the street is actually a neighborhood, and the houses I am running by are mansions.
With each home I pass, I feel envious of the residents who live there. The fenced in yards are small but well-groomed, and the flower beds spill with fragrant, colorful flowers. I can tell the towering homes were built long ago from their classic design and architecture, although it is evident that every one has undergone recentl restoration, as their current condition is pristine. The oversized driveways parallel to each home proudly display an assortment of new Land Rovers and Mercedes. At the house across the street, a "for sale" sign prominently stands in the yard, and I can't help to wonder how much a home in this neighborhood costs. I speculate that the houses are be multi-million dollar properties- the owners are obviously loaded with money.
As I venture further down the street, it dawns on me that I have stopped running and am now walking. Taking in the beautiful scenery around me, I continue to walk, though I am still out of breath. I inhale deeply, the sweet London air easing the painful burn in my lungs.
My peaceful thoughts are suddenly disrupted by the viscous barking of a dog. My eyes dart to a snarling large, black German Shepard who is now running straight towards me.
Panic sets in, and a high-pitched shriek escapes my throat. With nothing to defend myself with, I begin to run, but I immediately realize the large animal is beyond capable of outrunning me.
The huge dog is now within arms length from my body, and another shrill cry for help bursts from my lips. As I try to run away, my legs refuse to move; I am frozen still in a state of sheer terror. With no other option to defend myself, I instinctively put my hands out in front of me to block the dog from jumping, God forbid, biting me.
"ACE!!!" a deep voice suddenly thunders from the yard across the street, "DAMN IT, ACE!! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET OUT OF THE YARD?"
Surprised, the dog immediately stops and whips his head around to look at the man calling him. Like the stunned canine, I also turn around. To my great relief, I see a barefoot, shirtless boy of about 20 running across the street towards the dog and me with a leash in his hand.
"God, I am so sorry!" he apologizes to me, finally reaching the now seated dog. "Ace, stay, boy. Stay" he commands, gently fastening the leash to the dog's collar.
As the boy stands up, I immediately recognize the familiar array of tattoos artfully displayed on his skin, my eyes going straight to the two striking sparrows that are inked on his collar bone. He pushes his curly brown hair from his face, and his deep, emerald green eyes lock with mine.
It takes everything I have to conceal the small gasp threatening to escape my throat.
Oh my god. Is it him? It can't be.
"Christ, I am sorry about Ace! I've never seen him act like this before," he begins. "I mean, usually he's so calm around people! I- I don't know what got into him!" Keeping eye contact with me, a small smile begins to form at the corners of his mouth, "I don't know, I suppose Ace must have felt drawn to you or something," he playfully adds.
Now laughing, he bends over and pats the big German Shepard on the head. Lowering his voice, but still making a point to be heard, he whispers to his dog, "Had to come see her up close, huh? I guess I can see why, big guy."
I feel as if all of the oxygen in the world has been taken from me, and I can't breathe.
It can't be him. There is no way. My mind is racing at a hundred miles an hour.
Biting his lip, he runs his fingers through his messy hair and then extends his hand, "Hi, I'm Harry."
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The Run Away Girl || Harry Styles
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