her pov
He was like a crisp piece of bacon on an early fall morning with the lights falling through the blinds, your dad watching the news already drinking his warm coffee, your two brothers fighting each other over the last pancake only to be scolded by your mother who comes in with a fresh new batch, that's what he reminded me of.
Harry. Harry was lovely, Harry was beautiful, Harry was confusing, Harry was drained of emotions, Harry was swimming in a sea of diamonds yet he felt like coal- I can feel it- Harry.
I wanted more than first names, I wanted favorite book, favorite pair of shoe, favorite city in the world, scariest moment, biggest fear, most exciting adventure, I wanted the whole damn nine yards but with Harry- I could never get sick of repeating his name- you would be lucky to get a foot.
Today he sat beside me, again, like yesterday, and his bones weren't peeping through his paper thin skin today, and his eyes weren't clouded by a dark rain cloud that sprinkled on the parade- more like poured- and today he looked beautiful in a way that most people are not, beautiful in which he was breath taking without even trying to steal my breath.
We didn't speak, and I could tell he liked it that way, and from the corner of my eyes, his head was pounded with a thousand thoughts a minute, I wanted to know every single thought he pondered until I was a thought, I wonder if he is thinking of me, and if he is, please let it he good.
Days continued like always. We would sit at the rusted damp bench, our legs miles apart yet our shoulders only inches. He would smile a smile I knew wasn't real the second our eyes connected, and slowly day by day, I happened to notice his rituals begin to change.
"No cigarette today?" I startled myself with my lips moving a mile a minute. He looked at me for a spare second before smiling, slowly looking back at the street in front of him as if it held the biggest mystery in the world.
"Decided to cut back." He had no emotion, his smile gone and I couldn't help but begin to think about his sex life.
He seemed like the type to fuck a girl and then leave her, but when he smiled, god dammit when he smiled, I saw four little kids with soft chocolate ringlets running in between his legs and a ring on his finger, but he smiled once a week, and that's the difference.
"Why?" I knew he hated when I pondered, and maybe he hates me. And maybe that's why everything would click. Maybe he smiles all day long and maybe he laughs like there is no tomorrow and maybe he kisses girls cheeks and rubs the back of their palm but I don't know because maybe he hates me.
He sent me a glare, but it wasn't a glare that told me to cower back, it was a glare that should be given a new name, it was a look I've only seen Harry do, therefore it was Harry's look, a look of twenty seven different signs.
"Found something else to release stress."
It was cute, a cute answer, something that made the tips of my lips curve, because he was cute, and he said cute things, and he made me smile and that was even cutter.
"What is it?"
He looked back to me with his infamous Harry's look and I smiled sheepishly only to see a smirk, a god damn smirk appear on his coated lips. Fuck if he wasn't sexy as anything.
"By signing up for this friendship I didn't know I would receive twenty questions all day long." And that was one of the longest things he had ever said to me so I appreciated his time.
"Didn't know we were friends." I smiled into my palms.
"The thing is," he started, "We would be strangers but we have had a conversation, we could be acquaintances but we know each other's names, so level three is friendship."
He began to describe what friendship meant to him and as I listened to every word he said, his lips became more and more interesting.
I thought about kissing him and how his lips might feel pressed against my lips. I imagined he would slowly without slop move down my jaw and he would slither around and nibble down my collar bones and I could see him closing his eyes gently as I pressed my fingertips into his scalp.
And then I thought about running my fingers through his chestnut locks, I concluded that it would be the best feeling in the world.
-
The pizza parlor that was on the corner of the children's hospital was filled to each tip with a different body with a different trait to make them special and I stood in the middle of it all, ignoring the squirms around my body as I saw the familiar body stroll out of the double doors three buildings down.
His head was low and from the hundreds of feet separating us, I could distinguish all features that processed through his skull as he skipped a step crossing the street in three seconds total.
He was coming this way. The direction I was in. He was stepping closer to me. He was almost in the same air as me, our atmosphere almost knitted together, and just like that, he kept walking, not even a glance in the thick clear window of the infamous pizza parlor that I was just so fortunate to work at: sarcasm.
What was I left to do besides spin on my heel dramatically with disappointment clear on my lips thinking of all the possibilities I could have just shared with Harry if he had entered through the heavy glass door about forty eight seconds ago.
He would've sat down on the booth to my right because I could never picture him at a table and he would smile at me because I worked here and he wouldn't laugh at the stupid black vneck with a small pepperoni pizza on the right corner of my chest and he would just smile, a smile that wasn't like everyone else's, but it would be Harry's smile, and we would talk and he would stay and everyone else would leave but the two of us would still be sitting just laughing as he told me jokes about his life, and that was an ideal dream if life was cliche, but it's not, so that never happened.
I was refilling a diet coke when the bell swayed to a sudden churn, I could feel the pressure from how hard the door was swung and I almost sighed at the sound of a new customer walking through the door because, well he wasn't who I wanted it to be, and well, what more is there to say.
And as the younger man, most likely a year younger than me, tried his absolute hardest to occupy my time, there was no occupation like the one that the chestnut haired boy with escaping eyes could give, and I could feel his presence without turning my head.
From behind my back I felt his wind and his eyes, he slowly in careful strides walked as close as possibly to my skin, taking the booth to my right that held my earlier satisfactions.
I mumbled excuses to the poor boy with his group of incoherent buddies and quickly sulked away to the not so famous but important significant booth to me with the beautiful confusing boy sitting alone staring up at me.
"Hi." I whispered, my breath losing it's battle at the sight of his pushed back hair and slowly fading watered eyes, his lips redder than usual and his skin burning with every inch shared between us.
"Hi." He whispered back.
