When we were young by @PoisedPen

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  OK we are landing to Salt Lake City, Utah, USA and we are welcomed by the sweet PoisedPen who is the loveliest human being, talented yet generous with a kind word for everyone. She is the creator of "Holding back" but more importantly of "California" which is a Harry Styles story lol. Her stories are a journey on their own, a tour of California  introducing us to little cafes, hidden sights in forests and places we would never think existed. She is one of a kind so you know the drill, go follow her and put her stories in your library people. Love you till next time!

I run my hands across the bodice of my tightly fitted gown

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I run my hands across the bodice of my tightly fitted gown. Public speaking has never been one of my strong suits, and tonight, it was proving especially challenging. Standing to the side of the stage, waiting for the band to conclude its set, I look down at a room full of A-List actors and musicians. Each having paid the generous amount per plate to attend, what is, the most sought after charity gala of the year.

Following the advice of my boss, I scan the crowd for a few friendly faces, to make eye contact with during my brief speech.

My eyes begin to drift across the sea of faces, some are laughing, others singing, all in various stages of merriment. Then my eyes rest on a face, so familiar that it momentarily takes my breath away.

There he is, seated at one of the prominent center tables. Harry. Stylishly dressed and effortlessly handsome, he looks every part of the modern day pop star he's become. Except, unlike so many of his counterparts, he still looks unaffected by his stardom. His smile is still so genuine.

My body flushes as I catch myself wringing my hands. I know I checked the guest list at least a hundred times, his name was not on it.

"You're up next Miss Taylor," a voice calls out.

I nod half heartedly as I strain to look at the rest of his table, to see who he accompanied, but half of it is in shadow, thanks to the lights from the stage.

Once the song is over, the emcee thanks the band and then leads the crowd in appreciative applause for their performance. The next words I barely hear, though the thumping of my own heart. "Now, it's my pleasure to introduce the associate director of this event, Miss Marlow Taylor."

I walk out on stage, and take a few more deep breaths as I approach the microphone.

I glance to where he is seated. His eyes are now on me but I am too nervous to discern his expression. I take one last breath for courage and smile.

"Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for coming tonight to support this worthwhile cause. So many lives will continue to be enriched from your generous donations. While so many public schools in this country continue to eliminate the visual and performing arts programs in their schools, your donations help to encourage them to reconsider those cutbacks. Art has the ability to educate, transform, and enlighten. It also provides a crucial outlet in coping with the pressures and challenges facing our youth today. Tonight you've put instruments and paint brushes into the hands of the future generation. Because of you, the show will go on. Thanks again. Now, let's ring in the New Year!"

Applause.

I briefly glance down at Harry, who is looking up at me. I manage a smile as someone touches his arm, garnering his attention,

As I exit the stage, my assistant runs up to me. "Well done Miss Taylor!" She says, clasping her hands together.

"Thank you Charlotte. I need to get some air. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"But, you'll miss the countdown!" She calls after me.

I had little desire to see who Harry would kiss when the clock struck midnight.

"Ten!" The sea of bodies surrounding me yell, beginning the descent into the new year.

"Nine!" I smile politely at some familiar faces as I pass them.

"Eight!" I begin to move quickly through the crowd as more seconds tick off. "Seven...Six...Five!"

"Four!" I push open the heavy door leading out of the grand ballroom and into the large hallway of the hotel. It closes behind me, silencing the rest of the countdown. I walk slowly across the quiet expanse of the hallway to the glass doors just opposite, which lead out into a small courtyard.

Pushing through the doors, my lungs fill with crisp night air. I look up at the almost starless night sky, shrouded in darkness, largely due to the light pollution of the city surrounding me.

Thoughts race through my mind, as that familiar ache settles in. The same ache I get when I see his face on the cover of a magazine or on television. It is often followed by the heartbreaking reminder, that he meant more to me, than I ever did to him.

I am jolted from my thoughts, when I sense I am no longer alone in the courtyard.

"Were you just going to leave, without even a hello?" The slow and familiar voice asks.

I turn around to face him. His eyes look at me intently, as he bends his head forward slightly.

"You must have seen a million faces since we said our goodbyes almost seven years ago. I didn't know if you'd recognize me."

"I'd know you anywhere, in any crowd." He says, closing the distance between us in two long strides, wrapping his arms around me and enveloping me in a hug.

Instantly, the years and the mileage life put on us, melts away. We transform into those two, fresh faced, sixteen year olds, standing in a field, with the damp Cheshire soil below us and the spring sky above us.

"My God, I've missed you." He whispers into my hair, not breaking the hug.

Tears spring to my eyes. "I've missed you too."











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