Slow Motion

Chapter 2: Spring

"So, what do you do?" he asked with great curiosity. Their day had met its end in a small donut shop in an area less traveled. He found the spot charming in a sense, something that he might have enjoyed in his younger days when he only had a few pounds to spare. She stretched, her hands locking as they reached for the ceiling, a true testament to just how relaxed she felt at the moment.

"Guess," she encouraged, a whimsical smile on her face as she waited eagerly to see what he would come up with. He studied her for a moment, reflecting back on their conversation from earlier.

"An artist," he offered. He looked her up and down once more. "Maybe a fashion designer."

She grinned, pulling a small notebook out of her bag and waving it around.

"A writer," she chuckled, pulling the notebook away when he reached for it, "not a very good one, but I try. And no, you can't read it."

"What's the use of being a writer if you won't let anyone read it?" he questioned her, more than curious to see what kind of words she wrote down. She merely shrugged and put the small leather-bound book back in her bag, already forgotten in her mind.

"I will when it's ready," she replied simply. "Anyways, I should head home. It's getting late," she sighed as she looked at the clock on her phone.

"Should I drive you?"

"I don't know, should you?" Her head tilted as a playful smirk graced her lips. "Nah, it's alright. I'll catch a ride home. Uber or something."

"You live in the city?" Harry asked, hopeful that he'd see her again. The shake of her head caused his mood to fall.

"Los Angeles, while great for inspiration, is a little too hectic at night for my taste. I live in a city right outside it," she admitted, "I do come here often, though. Seeing as this is where the culture is centered."

"I definitely can't let you go home alone then," Harry reasoned, "not if you live far. You've heard the stories of crazy drivers. It's mad out there."

"You won't be bothered by it?"

"M'not bothered at all, peach."

That was the first name he'd given her, something just as sweet as she had proved to be that day.

The car ride was filled with light conversation and some singing as they flipped through radio stations to find the songs that spoke to them. Harry followed her instructions, taking the exit that eventually led them to a nice area full of lavish apartments.

"Well, thanks for the ride." Her lips curled into a soft smile as her hands tousled her hair, the nighttime breeze refreshing their skin. He had followed her to her doorstep, stopping just outside the front of her building. "It was nice meeting you, Har."

"Likewise," he nodded. He was hesitant, unsure whether or not to take things a step further. His heart certainly wanted to and his thoughts weren't far behind, but logic and reasoning halted him from pulling her into his lips. Instead, he did the next thing he could think of, choosing a simpler route.

"Do you think I could get your number? I'll be in LA for a bit, I think. It would be nice to see you again."

They traded phones, typing their information into each other's contact list. He was surprised to see she already had another Harry in her list and cheekily added a few emojis to help her differentiate between them.

"Heart eyes, nice touch," she chuckled when he handed her phone back to him.

"Flowers," he replied, observing her own choice of emojis. "Very fitting."