About (Harry Styles)

7.

...

I'm waiting outside my dorm just as Niall instructed after getting ready and throwing my camera into my bag. The sun is beginning to set and the sky is filled with a soft sheet of orange clouds. Turning my phone on, I check the time.

7:04 PM

It's been about half an hour since I've been out here and my amount of patience for this person is wearing thin. The only thing keeping me here is my love for my photos. They're like my babies. I can see my photos in my camera just like a mother can see her baby through an ultrasound but it's not the same feeling when I have the photos in my hands just like a mother holding her baby in her arms.

Make sense?

No. Let's move on.

A small, black Mercedes pulls up into the parking lot and stops right beside me. The door of the driver side opens and a young man in a suit reveals himself. He turns to face me while unbuttoning the button of his jacket and smiles.

Really? A suit? Isn't that a bit much? We're not going to prom.

"Are you Val?" He says, his voice higher than I expect.

"Val? Uh, no. I'm not."

"Oh, well. Do you think she's inside? I'm here on a blind date," he tells me and I shrug. "Sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you this."

"No, it's cool. You look...dashing," I say, awkwardly, tugging the string of my bag closer to my shoulder.

"Thanks."

He walks past me, and I hold in the urge to laugh. I can't believe I thought he was the guy Niall suggested. To make it even more interesting, he's on a blind date. I would never agree to go on a blind date. Having someone set you up for a date is kinda sad, honestly.

Desperate much?

"Who was that, Bubble Wrap?"

The sudden voice startles me, so much causing me to yelp and jump in fear. My head turns to the emergence of his voice and a curly haired boy fills my gaze. He looks amused with my reaction, his cheeky smile displaying those inevitable dimples yet again.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, glancing our surroundings in case of anyone taking photos of us.

No one in sight.

"I'm here to pick you up," he says it in an obvious tone.

"You? Niall asked you to pick me up?" Great.

"Yeah, now hurry up and get in." He waves me over to his BMW as he pads over to the driver's seat. When he realizes that I didn't move an inch, he sighs heavily and rolls his eyes. "Come on. We need to get a move on."

Is this real? It's unimaginable. The sight of this British boy, not only is he a British boy. He's a famous British boy.

Without a word, I allow my feet to make it over to the passenger side of his car. As soon as I step in, the expensive smell of his luxurious car fills my senses and the radio is playing some kind of Indie music I've never really heard before.

"You have photos to develop also?" I ask him as he pulls out into the streets.

"Just a few," he answers quickly.

"Of what?"

He stays silent for a while, unsure of whether to answer.

"Nothing, really. Just some old photos for someone's birthday."

"Oh. You're giving someone photos as a gift? Kinda cheap, don't you think?"

He stops at a red light and turns his head to face me. His expression is still friendly, a fake kind of friendly, but not like before.