Carrots With Ketchup

Part 2

At the end of the week, Melissa and I packed in near silence. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I didn’t get to see Louis again, or about the news story I read about his recent engagement to Eleanor Calder. It was almost like I’d gotten my hopes up for something impossible. I mean, they’d been together almost four years now. I’d met him five days ago. As if that would change anything. Now it was time to return to New York, to return to my regular, everyday life.

            The plane ride was easier. We sat and watched movies in silence and my mind was properly distracted until Grease came on. I immediately took off the headphones and decided to take a nap.

            When we got back to our apartment, we unpacked and went back to our normal lives. Melissa was extremely excited about something, but I couldn’t focus on what. I was still dazed thinking about our vacation and what happened.

            My classes couldn’t hold my attention. My professors noticed, but chalked it up to an illness. Christmas was a little over a month away and I could barely focus on it long enough to buy gifts. Melissa didn’t blame me. She would probably have done the same thing, if she’d been in my place. However, she kept trying to boost my mood by telling me about this thing she was so excited about. I ignored her, and all I caught was, “Oh fine. Don’t listen. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

            I rolled my eyes. “I’m going out,” I told her, grabbing my jacket and sketchbook. “I’ve got my cell if you need me.”

            I found a picnic table outside a little shop and sat down, the umbrella holding snow above my head. I opened my sketchbook and continued working on the drawing I’d been working on for almost four years. Being a perfectionist, it was never quite finished for my tastes, but now that I had met and had a long conversation with the subject of my drawing, I had more insight into what to draw.

            The eyes needed more work, and the chin wasn’t quite right. I began to get absorbed into the picture, like I always did when I was drawing. It got to the point where I could almost hear his voice…

            “Hello again, love,” it said. It sounded so close. I looked up and there he was, standing on the other side of the table. Louis Tomlinson.

            “Louis!” I said flipping my sketchbook closed as fast as I could.

            “Hello, Josée,” he repeated. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the seat across from me.

            “Oh! Yes! Of course!”

            He sat down and said, “So, fancy seeing you again.”

            “Yeah. I live here. I’m a student at Julliard. What are you doing here?”

            “We have a show here tonight.”

            “Oh!” I laughed, finally understanding, “That’s what Melissa was trying to tell me!”

            “Who?”

            “My roommate. I was kind of…distracted…when we got back.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah. I was having a hard time believing I met you. To be honest, I still am. Are you actually here, or am I just crazy?”

            He chuckled and held his hand at eye level, palm towards me. “Go ahead,” he said, “Feel.”

            I gently probed his hand with my fingers. “Holy crap!” I said after a minute, “This is real!”

            He chuckled again. “Yes, love. This is real.”

            He put his arm back down and rolled the sleeves of his white striped shirt down. “What’s that? He asked, gesturing towards my sketchbook.

            “Oh, um, nothing,” I said, suddenly embarrassed, cheeks flaming. I reached for the sketchbook but it was already in his hands. The rest of my face flushed as he opened the book.

            I ducked my head as his eyes scrutinized my drawing. I squeezed my eyes shut as I waited for him to laugh or slowly creep away, terrified of my obsessive stalking. His response surprised me.

            “Wow,” Louis breathed, “This is amazing. You drew this?”

            I nodded.

            “It’s wonderful, Josée! You’re really talented,” he said.

            “Louis!” a voice called in the distance. Suddenly, a boy with curly brown hair and green eyes appeared over Louis’ right shoulder. I felt my flush fade as my face paled. It was my meeting with Louis all over again. “Whatcha looking at?” the boy asked while I tried to find my voice.

            Louis passed my drawing to the boy. “Wow,” he said.

            Louis laughed. “That’s what I said.”

            “It looks just like you!”

            “You’re Harry Styles!” I blurted suddenly.

            Both boys looked at me, smiling. “Yeah, I am. Did you draw this?”

            I nodded. “It’s not finished yet,” I said.

            “Really?” Harry said, “If this isn’t finished, it’s going to be absolutely incredible when it is.”

            “Thank you,” I said.

            “Sure, beautiful. What’s your name?”

            I smiled. “I’m Josée.”

            “Josée?” He turned to Louis, “The same Josée you told us about in London?”

            Louis cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Um, yeah. The very same.”

            I flushed and lowered my head again. “Hey,” I heard Harry say, “Did you offer her tickets for tonight?”

            Louis must’ve shaken his head because soon Harry was continuing. “Well then, here. I don’t have any tickets on me, but I’ll have them keep an eye out for you at the front and we’ll save you a couple of seats. Bring a friend.” He winked when I looked up. “What’s your last name?”

            “Peck. Wow, Harry. Thanks. A lot.” I smiled.

            “No problem. Now come on, Louis. We’ve got to get ready for the concert. See you later Josée.”

            They got up to leave. “Okay. Thanks again Harry. See you later, Louis.”

            “Bye,” they said, handing me my sketchbook and walking away, both with smiles on their faces.

            I ran back to the apartment, calling Melissa’s cell as I ran.

            “Hello?” she answered.”

            “Mel. Get ready. We’re going out tonight.”

            “Where?”

            “Where do you think? The One Direction concert! Duh!”

            I hung up in her screaming.