About (Harry Styles)

76.

Elaine's POV

Even though it's been almost six years, nothing about him has changed.  His hair, his posture, though there is one thing that's different. 

His eyes ... They hold a profound intensity I don't recognize.  It's intimidating.

My gaze slowly drops to the floor, afraid that he would notice I've been staring at him the entire time. Mr. Jensen walks towards us with him following right behind. 

He introduces India first, and even though my eyes are still fixated at the floor, I can tell that even she is shocked.

Only now am I grateful that I kept who Charlotte's biological father is a secret to everyone.

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Styles," India's voice rings in my ear.

"Please call me, Harry," he insists with a pleasant grin.

My trembling hands intertwine behind myself, knowing that I'm next in line of introductions.  From the corner of my eye, I see him turn to me, my entire body freezing just thinking about him seeing me for the first time in six years.

"Miss Woods." That's all he says.  That's all he calls me. 

What were you expecting? 

For him to call you by your first name? 

Don't be ridiculous.

"You know each other?" Mr. Jensen asks as if he's been provoked. 

"Yes, very well," he replies, never keeping his eyes off me. "It's been too long. It's good to see you."

It's been too long?

It's good to see me?

Is he joking right now?

He extends out an arm out to me, signaling for a handshake, but I never even chalk up the simple courage for our eyes to meet.  I'm anxious. I'm angry.  I'm so absentminded at this point that I can't even render a coherent thought.

"Yes," I mumble softly. "Excuse me."

Before another word can be exchanged, I race towards the door without looking back.

It's hard not to notice everyone's eyes goggling at you when you storm out of the boss' office with the most horrified expression on your face.  Only they do not know the seriousness of this predicament.  It's far worse than getting fired.

I scurry into the women's bathroom and lock myself in the farthest stall.   A heavy breath expels from my lips as I sluggishly let myself fall back against the wall.

I must be dreaming.  This isn't real. 

How can he be here? Of all places?

My mind replays what just happened and regret fills my conscience.  I shouldn't have fled in the middle of introductions. Now if I go back, it'll be a million times more embarrassing.

"Elaine," I hear my name being called. "Elaine? Are you in here?"

I can tell it's India.  She's come to get me, but I'm not ready to go back and face him. 

Not now. Not tomorrow. Not the day after tomorrow. Not ever.

Eventually, I force myself out and she marches towards me, a notion of worry in her face.