Cruel Summer | Harry Styles

Two: The First Time

June 5

Della wasn't exactly on schedule.

The night before, she planned out her day down to the time so that she could eat an early enough dinner and then walk on the beach as the sun was setting. It was the same plan she had the day before—and the day before that—but Della had a habit of ditching her plans and wandering aimlessly instead. It wasn't exactly a bad thing. The wandering led her down side streets and to views she wouldn't have come across other wise, but walking up to the monastery had been in her plans for the last two days and she hadn't managed to make it.

It was hot—hotter than it had been the past few days and Della stood in front of the full length mirror in her Airbnb rethinking the sundress she had on. It was pretty: white with yellow lemons and straps that tied into bows at her shoulders. The neckline, as well as the bottom hem were ruffled, which was her favorite part.

It was too hot for pants, but she would be doing a lot of walking and she wasn't sure what was worth more: being cool or not ending the day with a rash between the tops of her thighs.

Her eyes moved to the pink clock that hung next to the front door; it was already half eleven. She heaved a sigh and decided that a rash would be worth it.

She shoved her feet into her nude sandals, grabbed a peach from the red bowl on the counter next to the sink and and hurried out the small studio's door. She hopped down the carpeted stairs, in too much of a hurry to wait for the tiny elevator and pushed the front door open with force.

The second she slammed into what felt like a stone wall, she cursed. Her twice bitten peach landed on the ground below her and her tote swung down to the crook in her elbow, and left her bicep rubbed red thanks to the three books she tucked away weighing it down.

"Shit, sorry." He said as he reached out to steady her.

When Della looked up, flustered and more than a little annoyed, she was surprised to see the familiar face. "Harry?"

A look of surprise passed over him before he said, "It's you."

"It's me." She said as she moved from under his hand and readjusted her tote.

"What are you doing here?"

She looked down at the two large Hermes shopping bags in his left hand and then looked back to where she had come from. She pointed in the direction of the store. "The place I'm staying is above it."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She said as she brushed a rogue strand of hair out of her face.

"You never called."

Della immediately stood up straighter. "What? Oh—oh, right. Sorry about that." When Harry didn't say anything, she said, "It's not that I didn't want to."

"Then what was it?"

Della wasn't exactly ready for a follow up. She sighed while she came up with an excuse.

"I just...I didn't know if you really wanted me to. And like I said, I don't really do rebounds, so..."

Harry smiled. "You didn't think I wanted you to call?"

"Well—maybe, I don't know—"

"Della, you know I wanted you to call. You practically made me beg." His tone was playful and hearing him say her name made her stomach flip.

"I did not make you beg."

"Close enough!"

They both laughed.