Forever and Always (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

CHAPTER 2: Then

Suddenly, I slammed into someone and the plate of wine glasses clattered onto the floor. My brain went into panic mode and I hurriedly bent down to pick up the mess. A whole patch of the carpet had been stained. Some of the cups had broken, too, leaving glass shards glittering on the floor. Quickly, I tried as carefully as I could to pick up the glass, but somehow ended up cutting myself on a piece, leaving a gash on my left hand. My finger started bleeding and I quickly stuffed it into my shirt, stifling the pain.

“Need a hand there?” a voice said above me.

So much for being inconspicuous, I thought miserably to myself. I stood up, ready to apologize, and was rendered breathless as I stared into the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.

 “It’s alright, I never liked this shirt anyways,” he said with a grin as he surveyed his stained t-shirt. He looked up. “I’m Harry,” he said, and his emerald eyes held my gaze softly.

“I know,” I said without thinking and immediately felt my face growing red. “I mean, you’re from the band One Direction, right?” I quickly added. They must be the special guests tonight. Way to make a first impression, Jenny.

“I’m Jenny,” I said, almost reaching out to shake his hand before realizing that my right hand was still holding my shirt around my bleeding left finger. Harry saw my awkward movement and looked at me concernedly.

“Do you want something for that?” Harry asked. I realized he was referring to my hand.

“Uh, no, I’m fine,” I said, even though I knew I wasn’t. I could feel a sliver of glass lodged near the knuckle of my ring finger, but I refused to let myself be bothered by it.

Unexpectedly, Harry reached over and gently took my hand, examining it carefully. My heart raced, whether out of the fact that his hands were touching mine or from the pulsing pain in my hand, I wasn’t sure. Harry looked up from my hand with a worried expression on his face.

“Listen, I’ll take you upstairs and get this taken care of,” Harry said, still holding my hand.

“No, really, I’ll be okay,” I said, taking my hand back. “I have to go back to work.” I dreaded the thought of what Stacy would say once she found out I hadn’t made it ten feet out the door without causing a disaster.

Harry looked at me skeptically. “Jenny,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat at the sound of his voice saying my name, “no one is going to want to be served by a bloody waitress.” His voice had a hint of a smile and I couldn’t help but laugh, knowing what he said was true. “Besides, I need to get changed,” he said, smiling at me.

He started walking towards the elevator, motioning for me to follow. Hesitating only slightly, I followed him.

Harry’s hotel room was on the seventh floor so the elevator ride wasn’t too long and awkward. As much as I would’ve liked to be alone in an elevator with a famous singer any other day, I really wasn’t prepared at that moment. Meanwhile, my finger had stopped bleeding, but my hand was still an unpleasant sight.

We stepped off the lift and I followed Harry to his room. He slid the card into the door, unlocking it, and opened it to reveal a classy suite. I cupped my injured left hand in my right hand, not wanting a single drop of blood to soil the white carpet.

Harry walked into the large, brightly lit bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. I stepped in behind him and stood on the porcelain tiles, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Harry lifted my hand. Carefully, he used tweezers to pull out the sliver of glass in my skin. I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain and Harry looked into my eyes, making sure I was okay. I nodded almost imperceptibly before he moved on to clean the cut. I was standing closer to him than I had realized.