I do not want to be nervous, but I keep feeling so. But the thing is, I never wanted any of this in the first place. Harry was very annoying when I met him. So why do I still have butterflies?
Dinner and a movie. Classic. I sort of like it. Harry and I are going to meet at the restaurant. Which is good, he will not find out my home address.
"Tell me all about it," Charlotte says, as I walk out the door.
"Sure." Yeah, right. That never ends up well for me. I guess I will just make something up, pretend it was just ok. It probably will be, maybe even worse.
I drive to the restaurant we decided to meet at and walk inside. I immediately see a curly-haired boy sitting at a booth looking through the menu. I walk up to the table, and he smiles at me.
"How are you?" he asks.
"I'm fine," I sort of snap. I sit down across from him and put my purse to the right of me where he cannot reach it. I do not need to go through that again. "You?"
"I'm great." He sounds sincere, even when I probably sounded like a stuck up bitch. But I did not want this. Then again, I did agree to it myself...
He lays the menu down and focuses on me. I do the exact opposite, forcing my attention on the menu, not really caring about a conversation. He almost immediately pushes my menu down and grabs my right hand.
"W-what are you doing?" I tense up completely. He grabs my other hand, too, holding them delicately, turning them and examining them.
"I like your bracelet and ring. Are you a writer?" he asks in his raspy, deep, but oddly soft voice. He is referring to my quotation mark rings, and my pencil cuff.
"I write... why would you guess that?"
"Well I believe what people have on their bodies tells a lot about themselves."
I stare at the paper airplane necklace dangling over his white t-shirt. "So what about your necklace? Were you the troublemaker in school?" I can easily picture Harry throwing paper airplanes at the teacher. The idea is really vivid in my mind, too. Almost like it actually happened.
"I was... the fun one... I guess," he smiles.
"Ah." The waitress comes to take our order, and we have to tell her we are not ready yet. When she leaves, I still don't pick up my menu.
"How old are you?" he asks.
"What you didn't find that out when you were searching through my phone?" I tease him. He scowls at me. "I'm 21."
"So am I." (A/N: BECAUSE I SAID SO.)
The conversation reaches the point where we need a new subject. "I actually like your tattoos," I bring up. They are pretty cool; I cannot get over the swallows I can see on his chest every time he leans in towards me. They are probably my favorite of what I see.
"Yeah?" he looks at his arms like he just realized they are there. "Do they intimidate you?" he smirks.
I shake my head. "The dimple and curly hair make up for whatever small amount of intimidation your tattoos could have possibly had."
"You're lying," he scoffs.
I roll my eyes. The waitress comes back, and I feel awful for not being ready. I scramble to find something on the menu.
"Two plates of tacos, please," he orders for us. The woman scribbles it down and walks away.
"Tacos?"
"They're my favorite food."
I shrug. Harry and I talk some more until the waitress brings us our food. The tacos are really good, too. He pays for us and leaves a decent tip.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
All is Fair: Zayn Malik Fanfiction
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