HS - Wish You Were Here - Part 1 - Harry Styles

Chapter 1

Green eyes meet mine as realisation sets in that I know the face staring back at me.

"I'm fine honestly, are you're running from the police or something?" I stutter, internally face palming at my incessant need to make awkward jokes when I'm nervous and knowing full well he is probably running to be unnoticed by a passer by's camera phone or screaming fan.

He runs a hand clad in heavy silver rings through his nearly shoulder length, brown, curly hair.

"No, no, just trying to be quick, sorry again." he states in a tone that sounds almost guarded.

"Don't worry about it, I shouldn't have had my earphones in anyway." I add as I start to leave.

He sends me a smile that makes my breath catch and my feet stop in their tracks, "What were you listening to?"

He's probably asking out of politeness for knocking me to the ground. I give myself a reality check before looking at my iphone screen to jog my memory, "um, Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here".

As I look back towards him his face changes, his smile faulters and something flashes across his eyes that I can't read. He goes to speak and stops himself, as if he has a million thoughts running through his mind.  

Finally with his brows slightly pulled in and his stare so intense it's impossible to look away from, he lifts his right hand out towards me, an infinity symbol is tattooed on the fleshy padding between his index finger and thumb.

"Harry Styles, debut assassin," he jokes, his glare breaking into a grin.

"Olivia Bailey, victim", I grin back and shake his hand.

He probably meets hundreds of people just like you everyday, my mind reminds me as I decide to pay for my chia seeds and get the hell out of this little store that feels even smaller with his presence.

Right behind me, Harry grabs a packet of something from one of the shelves and is quick to hand over his money to the cashier as I blurt out a quick "nice to meet you" and head for the door.

"Olivia!" he shouts towards me. "Wait, let me give you a ride."

I don't know this guy. I have to still go to the supermarket. My apartment is so close I don't need a lift. GET IN THE DAMN CAR IT'S HARRY STYLES!

"Umm, ok..thanks," I finally spit out after my brain deciphers the million thoughts running through my brain at lightening speed.

He grabs his packet of god-knows-what and heads for the door pointing to a black town car parked out front.

He opens the door as I slide onto the black leather seats and scoot over as he jumps in after me. I give the driver my address and feel the heat in my cheeks as he is expresses his surprise about it being so close.

"So, how long are you in Paris for?" Harry says quickly, perhaps as an attempt to distract me from my embarrassment.

"Actually, I live here I just moved 6 months ago. What about you?"

"I'm just here for a couple of days" He says matter of factly with no elaboration on what brings him to the city.

Awkward silence fills the air for what feels like an eternity and I try my best not to be caught staring as I take in his skinny black jeans, leather boots and loose white t-shirt showing off the black ink of his tattooed skin.

"Well, this is my apartment" I look out the window as the car slows to a halt outside my building. "Thanks for the lift," I smile politely and reach for the handle.

"Would you mind if I use your bathroom quickly?"

Seriously?

His expression is calm and collected.

Probably years of media training, my cynical mind throws in.

"Alright..?" I say not even trying to hide my suspicious tone.

I shut the car door behind me and punch in the code on the keypad for my building.

Behind the oversized navy door with a brass handle is a courtyard with neat cobblestones. On all sides of the small area are stairwells leading to three different buildings of apartments.

"It's just through there," I point to the staircase at back of the courtyard.

"So, why did you move to Paris?" he questions as we walk.

Usually I would find this intrusive considering I don't know this person, I hate talking about myself to strangers and I hate small talk even more. But there's something about him that is charming and endearing, not nosy.

"Well, I got transferred from London to the Paris office for work, I work 4 days a week as a consultant for brands entering foreign markets. Pretty boring really." I add at the end as I realise he probably couldn't care less and is just being polite.

"Nah, that's really interesting," his raspy voice loaded with sarcasm that makes us both laugh as we wind up the three flights of stairs and I unlock my front door. I miss British humour more than I care to admit.

I was so happy when I found this apartment. I was online at 3am, my anxious mind going over every possible worst case scenario that could arise by relocating to a different country in two months time and causing many sleepless nights.

It was the perfect mix of old and new, the parquet flooring and floral mouldings on the high ceilings giving it unmistakable Parisian charm but with the conveniences I had become used to like a dishwasher and newly renovated bathroom.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Harry's voice breaks me out of my daydream as I focus on him pointing to a picture frame above the fireplace.

"That's my fiancé, Dan." I smile fondly remembering our engagement party the photo was taken at this time last year.

"Oh, congratulations!" He exclaims with a smile so warm I'm tempted to check if the candle on the coffee table has melted. "Is he in Paris too?"

"Thanks! Yeah, he was able to get a transfer with the bank he works for which was so lucky! Um, so, the bathroom is the second door on the left," I say as I remember there is a stranger in my house.

I wish Dan was home, he is never going to believe that Harry Styles was in our house!

Even though I'm not what you would consider a diehard fan of his, I do have the odd song on my Spotify playlist and I wasn't born under a rock. His second album has been met with critical acclaim from the likes of Rolling Stone and Billboard Magazine, not bad for a young Englishman that was playing dive bars across the country 2 years ago. His classically handsome looks, bad boy edge and affinity with lingerie models has made him the talk of the tabloids and impossible to ignore regardless of whether you are into his music or not.

I hear the bathroom door open and he walks back into the living area, "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

I'm taken aback as I try to look anywhere but his green eyes that are concentrating a little too hard on my face.

What? 

"I don't think thats a good idea. I don't think Dan would be too happy." I say looking at the floor slightly embarrassed and incredibly confused. The thought that this might be a radio station practical joke runs through my mind.

"Bring him! My girlfriend will be there too."

Of course he has a girlfriend, you idiot.

"I'm not taking no for an answer. Come to my hotel, we can just go to the restaurant there. I'll meet you in the lobby of 'La Nuit' at 8:30," He orders and adds "See you tonight, Olivia!" as he flashes a sickly sweet, dimpled smile and leaves me standing in the middle of the room wondering if I had just imagined the last 45 mins of my life.