11 Hours // Harry Styles

Hour 1

"Row seventeen seat I, row seventeen seat I, row seventeen seat I," I mumbled to myself repeatedly while walking past first class and business class. I've always wanted to fly first class, but it has always been so expensive so I decided to wait until I go on a trip which is worth flying first class. I wonder how it's like flying for celebrities, going on their own private jets all the time. Must be nice to have your own plane to fly in, definitely if I had the option to always fly privately, I would.

"Row seventeen seat I," I mumbled for the last time, looking up at the numbers above the seats.

Row 17 G H I the label read.

Great, I forgot this was a bigger plane. I'll have to sit beside two strangers on my flight. My seat was a window seat on the right side of the plane. I'm thankful I got a window seat or even a seat on the side of the plane, seats in the middle make me feel a bit sick.

I took my backpack off my shoulders quickly and shuffled between the two empty seats to sit in mine. I sat down, putting my backpack between my legs feeling a bit more relaxed. I looked out the window briefly seeing the beautiful sunset on the horizon. Part of the airport was blocking the sky but I could still see parts of the bright cotton candy colours in the sky. I shuffled my butt a bit realizing I was sitting on something, I lifted myself finding a pillow and a blanket beneath me for the long ride. I chuckled to myself realizing I'm an idiot for not noticing earlier.

I put the blanket and pillow underneath the chair in front of me near my backpack. I opened up the front pocket of my backpack to grab my headphones as well. As I lifted my head up I saw a man stretching to put his carry-on in the compartment above these seats. He must be one of the people sitting beside me. I glanced up at him once again and smile. He was a short man, maybe in his thirties with short blonde hair. I didn't really pay attention to what he looked like because it didn't matter much to me really.

"Hello," He spoke kindly,

I smiled and replied "Hi," then proceeded to look back down at my phone. I didn't want to seem rude but I had really nothing else to say. I plugged my headphones into my phone and put one in my right ear. The man sat beside me going on his phone as well, I could see him typing a message to someone but not wanting to be invasive I turned and looked away. I sat there listening to my music peacefully for awhile until I hear a low British voice say,

"Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you but I think you're sitting in my seat,"

I looked up again and stared at the man in the aisle. His emerald green eyes focused on the man next to me. I stared at this man for a couple seconds, trying to process as many details of him as I could in a short couple of seconds. He was handsome, chocolate brown curls lying messily but perfectly atop his head with only a few curls falling across his olive-skinned face. His eyes were a soft washed out green, like a favourite sweater that's been washed out too many times. His jaw and chin were firm and strong which must have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. He wore black skinny jeans, a pair of tan Chelsea boots and a black hoodie which looked great with his tall, lean figure. I took a second glance at his hoodie noticing the Gucci logo on it. My eyes lead up to his face again, looking at his pink heart-shaped lips and his perfectly shaped nose. Like, how can a nose look so hot? Finally, I stared back into his eyes, they locked with mine for a brief second, and a slight smile tugged at his lips as it was clear to him that I was checking him out.

Great, he probably thinks I'm a creep.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, let me check my boarding pass," the man beside me replied. He brought it out taking a quick look at it. "My mistake I must've gotten the numbers mixed up. I'm actually in row 19," pointing to the rows behind us. "No worries," the green-eyed man replied with a smile, his accent thick. The man beside me got up and walked a couple rows down to his actual seat. I looked down at my lap again, then outside at the window, then back at the green-eyed man who was stretching up to put his Gucci duffle bag in the compartment above. This man must love Gucci. His hoodie lifted up slightly but enough for me to see his v-line and two tattoos of what seemed to be fern leaves on his lower abdomen.