The first time Harry noticed her, she was sitting in the back of the library. Her feet propped on to the love seat and laptop on her lap as she typed away, ear buds hidden under her hair and into her ears as she listened to music and disconnected herself from everyone else. She was stressed, and Harry could tell from where he stood. He had never been in the library nor would he be caught dead in it, but it had been raining and he decided to wait for his ride inside rather than out.
While he had been waiting he couldn't help but admire her. She was simple, and he could tell by the way she dressed. She was in comfy clothes-nothing to dirty or messy, but also nothing that screamed she needed attention-she had been sitting in some black leggings, with these fuzzy socks (white with little pineapples on them) that made him think it was something a five-year-old would wear, and a white sweater that was too big for a small thing like her.
The second time Harry noticed her was on campus. He had heard her before he had seen her. It was her laugh that made him turn. It wasn't a loud and annoying laugh that would make Harry roll his eyes, or a fake one that he could pin point in a second, it was something that made his stomach flutter in a way he had never felt. He saw her walking with her friends, holding her smoothie and laughing as one of them spoke with a smile. He turned back to his cigarette, and his own friends before they could notice him watching her.
The third time Harry noticed her, he hadn't expected to see her. She was wearing a tight black dress that she clearly wasn't comfortable with, and heels that made her look like bambie. She had been holding on to her friends arm as she walked (or attempted to walk) to the bar, where she sat on one of the stools. Harry stood behind the bar, biting on his lip ring, and trying his best to focus on the drink he was making.
It was a Friday and Harry usually never worked on Fridays, but this month he really needed the money. He blames Ryan, his asshole of a friend and roommate who had stolen Harry's money to buy some weed. Harry was filled with rage when he had found his wallet open and empty, and before he knew it he was washing the blood from Ryan off his hands, and Ryan had a broken nose and split lip.
"Hey!" The girl that had come in with her snapped her fingers towards Harry trying to get his attention.
Harry rolls his eyes, he really fucking hated when people did that. He hands the drink to the girl in front of him and wipes his hand on the small hand towel before walking over, "yes?" he asks.
His eyes land on her, he wished he knew her name, she's nervously biting her lower lip and looking around the bar, "I want a white Russian, and my friend here will have a margarita," the blonde taps her shoulder as she speaks, "we're on a double date and she needs to loosen up," she adds.
"Can I just have a water please?" She asks, her voice is so soft Harry can hardly hear her, but he reads the words off her soft pink lips.
"No, you need a drink," her friend says, she turns to Harry and hands him the money, "get her the drink."
"I really don't want one-"
"But you need one," her friend cuts her off and the girl stops arguing with her.
Harry waits a second to see if she will say something, but she just sighs and rest her chin on the palm of her hand.
When Harry comes back with the drinks she's sitting alone, and her friend stands in line for the bathroom, he slides the drink over to her, "it's a virgin," Harry says.
"What?" She looks up at him, her eyebrows scrunched together.
"There's no alcohol in yours, I figured you didn't want it since you wanted water earlier," Harry says.
