The Run Away Girl || Harry Styles

Chapter 2

"Hi, I'm Harry"

Harry freaking Styles was literally standing in front of me. 

I stood there in disbelief, utterly shocked with the entire situation. I force an awkward smile onto my face. The more I try to appear calm, the more jumbled my thoughts become. My unpolished words spill uncontrollably from my mouth.

"I... I know, I mean, I...," I stumble, my eyes darting to the ground. I can feel my blood, hot beneath my skin, rush to my head. My cheeks burn with embarrassment.

I wanted to smack myself in the face. Could I make this any more awkward? Literally, my first sentence to Harry- if you could even call my incoherent words a sentence at all- and I had already made a fool out of  myself.

For a split second, my mind takes me back a particular moment a week ago in time. I'm at Starbucks with my friends, the night before my parents and I left for London, to be exact.

"Alice, Iced Hazelnut Mocha Latte" the barista calls from behind the counter, sliding my drink towards me.

I eagerly grab my coffee and practically skip back to the table outside where my two best friends are already seated with their drinks. I'm giddy with anticipation for my trip, and I can already tell the caffeine in my coffee is going to make me even more restless. The unbearable July heat in Georgia makes my iced coffee taste even better. Looking at my friends, I jokingly widen my big brown eyes as I take a long  sip from my drink.

 "You’re weird," my friend Zoe jokingly accuses 

"I’m excited," I playfully correct her, kicking her foot under the table.

"No, you're definitely weird," my other friend Emma says, chiming in. Her infectious laughter carries  across the Starbucks parking lot.

"Don't lie, you love me," I fire back, bringing the green straw to my lips, "or as Harry would say, you love me a latte."

I giggle at my bad joke. Emma and Zoe both roll their eyes in amusement. 

"Well, we'd love you more if you took us to London with you!" Emma says, practically singing the last words. "I mean, what if you meet One Direction? I think I would fall over dead."

"I second that," Zoe says, raising her cup and nodding her head in approval. "Actually, if you just want to bring me back Liam-"

"We literally have this exact conversation every time I leave to go to London," I laugh, interrupting my friend's wishful thinking.

"And yet, I still don't see Liam standing next to me, sooo..," Zoe retorts in her typical sassy nature.

"OH MY GOSH, DID I SHOW YALL THIS VINE?" Emma suddenly squeals in excitement, holding up her iPhone for Zoe and me to see, "Y'ALL. THE FEELS. I CAN'T EVEN."

I grab the phone from Emma.  Turning the volume all the way up, I hold it between Zoe and I. We both lean in, putting our ears next to the speaker. Harry's raspy voice fills the air between us. "I feel like when people label people as 'famous', they take away a lot of substance they have as a person. You don't remember someone as 'he was funny or he was really nice or giving'. It's like 'they were famous.'"

I snap out of my flashback. Now standing in front of Harry, I suddenly remember the passion in Harry's voice as he spoke out against being labeled "famous”. I feel the knots in my stomach untwist and the hyperactive thoughts in my head slow down. 

I had one chance, and I was not about to mess this up. Looking up from the ground, I was now confidently facing Harry;  I had a plan.

"Harry. I'm Harry," He said again.

"I know," I slowly begin. "I am a huge fan of y'alls music."

"Oh..." Harry breathes, "so you're obviously familiar with One Direction? I didn't realize you.." his voice  trails off. I immediately pick up on the sudden sense of apprehension in his eyes, and I note how his brows furrow together. He is obiously deep in thought.  

Don't treat him like he is famous, I remind myself. He wants to feel normal. Normal.

"Whoa, now. One Direction? No, I was talking about White Eskimo!" I giggle, making a diva gesture with my hands.

I watched the corners of his mouth turn up into an irresistible grin as an infectious laugh rolls from his lips. Every ounce of the uneasiness that had consumed Harry's body appears to be erased by my playful comment. I mentally pat myself on the back; my attempt to make him feel normal was paying off.

"I see what you did there," he manages through his laughs. His thick British accent is now extremely evident. "That was a good one! Like, almost as good as one of my knock-knock jokes,"

"Almost?" I tease, unable to conceal my smile, "Harry, your jokes are only funny because they are awful!" 

"Hey! Lay off my jokes," he lightheartedly fires back, "Try telling that to our girls! The fans go crazy for them."

For a brief moment, we are both silent and his mystic green eyes meet with mine once again. My heart skips a beat; I feel as though the earth has been knocked off its axis and I am in an uncontrollable free fall. 

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