Harry Styles.

Carolina

The California sun bounced brilliant light off the Hollywood hills as Harry sipped coffee at his favorite café. He read the newspaper, mind encapsulated by political crises occurring worldwide. The soft hum of voices played around him. Mornings like this were vital strings of peace he threaded into his life, the monotony of them soothing amidst his hectic schedule.

As he flipped to the comics section, the crash of dishes against pavement startled him from concentration. He pushed his sunglasses down and peered at you while you scrambled to retrieve the shattered China. Your hair was pulled in a topknot tighter than the skinnies clinging to Harry's thighs. Your porcelain skin was radiant, cheekbones lined with the same soft pink of a painter's pallet. He loved the way your apron hugged your figure's every dip and curve.

     Ever since you started waitressing, he'd been admiring you from afar, wondering about the spirit tucked under your bright aura. You were always smiling, and you moved with a certain confidence Harry'd never witnessed in someone.

Without hesitation, he came to your side and helped pick up the pieces.

"It's okay. I've got it," you said, words tumbling out unevenly.

"I insist."

The man's rumbling voice and thick accent glided through your ears and into your core, and you instantly knew who the owner was. You made eye contact. The tray in your hand wobbled as you lost control of your limbs; Harry steadied it, concern etched in the darker shades of his green irises.

"Thanks, Harry."

     "My pleasure."

     You both rose from the ground. You chewed the inside of your cheek, absorbing the sharp contour of Harry's face contrasted by the roundness of his lips. This was the first time you had the opportunity to see him up close. His long lashes brushed against his olive cheeks; you watched them like a movie.

     "Care to join me?" Harry said, motioning toward his table.

     "Could you wait about ten minutes? Just until my shift is over?"

     Harry sucked air through his teeth. "My wait limit is usually five minutes or less. But I guess I could make an exception for you."

     You smiled and returned to business. The next ten minutes were longer than either of you anticipated. Harry skimmed mindlessly through the news, vision fleeting toward you every time you walked outside to serve customers. It took all your strength to avoid returning his stare. When the clock struck noon, you removed your apron, grabbed your belongings, and walked to his table.

     "Is this seat taken?"

     "It is now," Harry said with a wink.

     "Any good reads in the paper today?"

     "There's an article about how climate change is bringing sharks to shore."

     "I read a book on that once. What was the name of it? Meltdown? Yeah, that's right—Meltdown, written by a guy named Patrick J. Michaels. Pretty interesting, actually. And crazy to think that we're the ones causing it when we could easily prevent it."