Carolina and The Fan Non-fiction | H.S

Twenty-Nine

"Um, Abott," I said once he finishes. I look at Jas, who can probably read the hesitation and uncertainty in my eyes. "What time do we board?"

"Boarding starts at three, Ma'am," he politely answered.

So we've got thirty minutes. "Do you think maybe I could grab takeout coffee first?"

"Sure." He leads us to another door and into an area that's basically like a mall complete with spas, shops, and food places. "I recommend Café Greco, Ma'am. They have world-class coffee there."

I look at Jas again. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, sure," she agreed. I'm not sure Abott can tell, but those two things she said also meant that she's willing to deal with my delaying tactic and need for space to breath.

Abott leaves us to ourselves once we get in Café Greco, saying he'll be back in ten minutes. He brought with him our bags which he says he will already have the security check.

"Okay, spill. What is this?" said Jas, who like me, hasn't really spoken that much since we got out of the main gates. Heck, I spoke a lot more than her in the past half of the hour.

"I'm getting coffee."

"At an airport." Again, I knew what few things she was implying. One, airport food is expensive. Two, I'm doing something slightly uncharacteristic than planned.

I look at the prices of everything and almost began regretting my petty stalling. I outrun that thought and immediately place my order. "Cold brew please. With cream. Take out. Jas?"

She shakes her head. "Okay, uh," I bring my attention back to the cashier, "that'll be all."

"Good thing I didn't shop at Carnaby, eh?" I joked, taking my wallet out of my stolen (Ma's) black shoulder bag to hand her my debit card. She pouts her lips and, without a word, tells me: Really? "And I haven't had coffee in a while—"

"You brew your own coffee in your flat every day."

"—that I did not make. I haven't finished yet."

"Come on Vienie. Y'know I hate it when you beat around the bush," she whined.

"One second," I excused myself from our conversation as I punch in the pin of my card. The woman hands me it back to me with the receipt. We make our way to a table to wait. Then I furtively tell her in junctions, in a more hushed sound, so that the cashier wouldn't judge me if she overhears. "You already know it Jas. A moment of weakness. Or nervousness. Lapse of judgement."

"It's like you're reciting book titles to me." She rolls her eyes, then, in a click, looks at me encouragingly. "But seriously, you'll be fine. People come and go, remember? We'll have fun."

"You're doing fine yourself, too." In some way, saying that was to divert further from my poor decision. But also, it was a compliment. When One Direction came to Philippines two years ago, even though we didn't get tickets, she still lost her shit over the idea that we we're breathing the same air as them. I figured her reaction wouldn't be any less different than that this time, but maybe it's because we're older now.

"Are you kidding!" Or maybe not. "I'm trying so hard not to lose my shit I'm about to meet Ha—" I kick her under the table. Her voice was rising to a dangerous volume. I peep at the till girl who thankfully remains unbothered. At the same time, a waiter comes out from behind her with my order.

I take the cup and sip from it. Expensive really is a kind of taste. And it tastes amazing. Maybe I should save up for airport coffee more often.

Jas and I head out and see Abott approach us.

"Everyone's on time around here," said Jas who took the words right out of my mouth.

"Are we good to go Ma'am?" he asked and I nod. "Alright, we'll head to security check now."

Security check barely felt like security check and I swore to myself I will work hard to get to a point where security check while travelling is like that.

Now, there really was no other way for me to postpone meeting Harry unless I become one of those VIPs with irksome demands and suddenly decide I want another coffee or go to a spa. Instead, I try to take my mind off of it and slow down my racing thoughts. I think of plans: saving up for coffee, VIP airport treatment, economic success, whatever. I twiddle with the metal ring that connects my bag to its strap and bite the inside of my cheek as we walk through the hallway.

Behind every door we pass by is a private lounge. Abott stops in front of one, presumably with him inside. My bite over my cheek becomes a twinge of pain as my anticipation peaks. He knocks on the door, then opens it slowly.

Jas wraps a hand around my wrist and presses it. This time I couldn't tell what she was trying to say. If she was reassuring me or letting out her own excitement.

"Mr. Styles? I have Ms. Townes and Ms. Martinez for you," Abott said. He opens the door wider for us and moves to the side.

I maintain looking at Jas who has her eyes already glued to man I haven't seen since the first time we met. I hold back for just one more second of weakness. Or nervousness. Or lapse of judgement.

Then I bring my gaze to him and find that his burning gaze is already on mine. The corner of his eyes wrinkled with his genuine lopsided smile. I think the few seconds of weakness wasn't enough for me as I feel myself become weightless, carried away by the sight.

Jas gives him a hug and mumbles a hello. I panic, knowing that she's officially finished her share of greetings and it was my turn. Meanwhile, I couldn't understand whether the urge to faint was an exaggeration by my head or that I really was running out of air and, hence, really weightless.

Either way, I fight it. With pretentious heft and composure, I walk to him.

"Hey," he said in that same deep and casual tone I heard when he was first in front of me.

"Hi," I replied.

The way his happiness tugs at his lips tells me he has no clue how awkward I am feeling. I look down and smile the smile I meant to give him in return.

I look up to show him that, but he already put his hands on my arms, pulling me in.

I knew this embrace too well. The way his hand guided my head to nuzzle right between his shoulder and neck. The way the other held my back. The way the awkward space got sandwiched until it became too thin to even noticem

The calm pace of his chest, calms mine. And then it pulsates with a sound. "You're wearing the same boots," I hear him say.

"You're wearing the same jacket," I whispered, chuckling at the thought. 

a/n:

Hello, Harry. ;)

Story's picking up a pace yall.

x.