The days that passed by in Sedgefield were always slow and quiet. It was pleasant. The sun was rarely harsh and neither were the winters. The people were friendly and laidback; they all knew each other. The waves rolled in each day and the sun washed into the sea in the late afternoon. The forests were encouraged rather than chopped and the flowers were brighter there than any other place in the world.
That is how it was seen to those who lived in the small town. To outsiders, it was the toilet break of a road trip along the coast. Blink and you missed it.
To Miss Avalene Swan, a popular local, Sedgefield was the birthplace of her father. It was the town in which her family had taken refuge after her dad passed away. At age eleven, she and her mother had moved into town with fresh hearts and fresh dreams; they were hopeful. And they still were.
Susan Swan, Ava's mother, bought over a small guesthouse on the beachfront and had been making her living through it ever since. Ava helped out her mother as often as she could. Most of their guests were truckers in need of rest or drivers falling asleep at the wheel. They got occasional holiday-makers from the inland cities wanting a cheap beachy holiday, but that was rare.
Ava had been home-schooled through schooling courses on the internet and a large library of books piled in the corner of her room. Now seventeen and a half, this impossibly small town had become her home and its small community, her family.
"Ava, don't even think of going out to the waves before straightening out your room."
Ava halted at the glass doors, her fingers hardly brushing the handle before they dropped to her side. She sighed as she set the surf board hooked under her arm to the wall. She took a moment to gaze out at the deep blue ocean and the rough white froth that formed nearer to the shore.
She turned around to see her mom sitting at the reception desk. "Mom, come on... I can clean it up later. The waves will be wrecked by afternoon."
"Sorry honey, but you're going to have to stay in today anyway. I have to drive up to Port Johnson this morning to that chiropractor."
Ava made her way over to her mother's desk and placed herself on the corner, her legs swaying lightly. She gave her mother a pleading look. "If I massage your back myself, will you let me go for a surf?"
Soft wrinkles formed besides Susan's eyes and she smiled down at her work. "I won't be gone long. I just need you to watch over the place for me."
Boredom struck the second Ava had fallen into the desk chair her mother usually sat in. She had only loosely wrapped a thin white sarong over her bikini, but that was the sort of clothing people usually wore around here. A lot of the town's people were either retired or living a true hippie sort of lifestyle. It was largely a surfing community, after all.
Ava tapped her fingers to the edge of the oak desk as she gazed out at the waves. The part of the guesthouse that faced the beach was made of glass, for obvious reasons. The view was something Ava could always appreciate. At the least she couldn't imagine waking up and not seeing the ocean from her bedroom windows.
She jumped when she heard the bell go off. She pressed the buzzer to unlock the gate on instinct, but then it occurred to her: she had sat in for her mother numerous times, but it was only once or twice that someone actually came in.
She stood up as silently as she could, listening carefully to the footsteps that followed. Fairly heavy, a man. Slow.
She hardly ever saw new people here. She always liked to see new people.
The owner of heavy, slow footsteps appeared shortly afterward. She shrunk back into herself when she made him out. It was a he, and he was tall, fairly lanky yet his shoulders were broad. He was young. He was around her age.
Rare it was to see someone. She had never seen someone her own age here.
She stared at him in awe. He had lengthy, loose curls that brushed his shoulders. He dropped his head and ran a hand through it before ruffling it back over his head again. She could feel her cheeks getting hot as he noticed her. His face showed uneasiness but he took a stride toward the desk, latching his fingers onto it.
"Hi," he murmured, preforming a small smile. He looked as though he was anticipating something from her, but she was already lost in thought.
Ava recognised that he looked tired. His upper lip was shaded in stubble, suggesting he hadn't taken to a razor lately. His shoulders were slumped.
"Hi," she said back, though it was just above a whisper. "Are you looking for a room?"
He frowned faintly at her as he traced his thumb into oak wood. "Um... yeah. Do you work here, love?"
She hummed a strained yes and nodded. Her eyes lowered as she scratched through a draw for the bookings register. She had so much she wanted to say to him, and she hadn't a clue why. He was a stranger.
He had an English accent, too. Her mother had travelled much of the world before she met Ava's dad, and Ava loved listening to her impersonate people from different places. But she had never heard a British accent in person. She was immediately interested in knowing who he was, where exactly he had come from. He was like one of the books she loved to read, a new place to discover.
Ava glanced up again. He hadn't moved his eyes off of her.
She decided she liked his face; his soft eyes and slick jawline, the flush of his pink lips and the dark swirls of hair that washed over his cheek. Ava wondered if it was usual to be so... captured by someone without even knowing their name, because she had never experienced such a feeling as she walked through town. There was something about it that made her heart race, and suddenly she thought she had so much to say to him.
She blinked herself back into reality. He looked confused, but she couldn't work out why.
"Is something wrong, sir?" she murmured, hoping she hadn't done something off-putting in the presence of this person. Admittedly, she wasn't the best with people.
"No, I just... Sorry, I kind of– never mind." He dropped his eyes to his boots.
She hasn't asked for a picture yet, he thought to himself. Maybe that's just guesthouse etiquet... Unless she honestly doesn't know who I am.
He immediately laughed off the idea of that. It should have been impossible. Never in the past five years had he been a stranger to someone.
He looked across at her as he gave his details and the length of his stay, which was two weeks at this stage.
He tried to work out if she was just playing it awfully cool when she asked for his name or if she honestly didn't know. His mind begun to wonder as he stared at her.
She was short and small, with dark curls that cascaded down her tanned back. She wasn't like any girl he had seen in a long time. She hardly wore any makeup, if any. She wasn't wearing shoes and stood there in a semi sheer beachy dress-like thing, her black bikini barely visible. Her nails were plain and blunt, something he noticed only when she handed him the cheque receipt and their hands brushed lightly.
"I'm Ava. If you need anything, Mr Styles, just call."
"Ava", he echoed quietly. She had asked for his signature rather than his autograph. This didn't quite compute in his brain.
"Um... Are you okay, Mr Styles?"
He snapped from thought, finally. "Harry, just call me Harry please."
A formiddable smile crossed her face, and refused to surrender to the orders from her brain telling herself to stop being an idiot. "Can I show you to your room? Do you need someone to carry your bags for y—"
"No, no. I'll carry them myself," he said.
She swallowed down her grin and guided him along the passage. "We have someone who can carry them for you," she offered politely, looking over her shoulder at him, key in hand.
"Thank you, but I can manage my bags on my own. I promise."
She reached room two, the room under her bedroom upstairs, and unlocked the door. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he rested his shoulder to the door frame and stared down at her.
Plucking up the courage, she turned to him swiftly. "Can I ask you where you're from?"
He crossed his arms over his chest. His hands were exhausted after all the driving, tightly clutching the wheel.
"A long way from here, love," he said quietly. His voice was deep and husky, giving away his sleep deprivation.
He found that the sunlight hit her eyes at just the right angle in that moment, displaying a deeper shade of green.
She smiled out of politeness as she handed him the room key. "I hope you enjoy your stay, Harry."
A/N
I feel like I'm going to get far too attached to this story. Harry I'm basing off the real Harry Styles, this town is based off one of my favourite holiday destinations and my own mother runs a guesthouse. Ugh.
This story I'm aiming to be considerably shorter than my previous and I'm starting with a vague idea of where it's going. I'm working on writing something a bit simpler and in third person, which is fun.
Please please pretty please, share this story with your friends on wattpad! It'd help me so much. xx