The pace of my heart drums through my ears with the passing time as Harry Styles starts to pull away. I can see the pure shock in his deep, green colored eyes as he realizes what just happened.
He detaches his arm from around my shoulder in a quick, swift motion, stepping a few feet back.
"What just happened?" I ask him. He runs his fingers through his curls again as he licks his lips before chuckling to himself. "Laughing? You're laughing? This is funny to you?"
His eyes shoot up from the ground to me, our eyes making immediate contact.
"No, I mean, maybe a little bit." I'm unamused with his answer and he senses it through my bored gaze. "Sorry, I meant to pull you in closer and when you turned your head - it just sorta happened. You were supposed to look at the camera."
Scoffing, I place my hand on my forehead, trying to figure the situation out:
This doesn't change anything, does it?
It's just a kiss on the cheek.
My head decides to spontaneously replay the scene and I find myself disappointed that it had to happen this way. In this place. At this point in time of our non existent relationship.
This isn't how it's supposed to happen.
I mean, have I ever dreamt of kissing a celebrity like Harry Styles?
A few times but it was never supposed to come true. It was meant to stay a dream of the little fangirl inside of me.
Some dreams should remain as dreams and this was one of them because shit is gonna be thrown all over the wall once word gets out that Harry Styles recklessly fooled around with some unknown girl in Kaukana, Wisconsin.
It's just an innocent kiss on the cheek. Stop freaking out Elaine...
Stop it.
"What did you say before?"
"What did I say?" He asks, confused.
"You said something about .. sneaking photos," I remind him.
"Oh, that. You don't remember?"
"Remember what?"
"Back in England. Where we met, in the Eye of London," he pauses, hoping I can recollect what he's telling me but all I give him is a perplexed expression. "I saw the photos you took --"
Oh shit. I forgot.
"Some of them were of me," he says with a mischievous smile.
How could I forget about that?
"Oh, well, umm, I," I clear my throat, finding an excuse for taking photos of him but coming up blank. I meant to delete them right after and I probably forgot to. "How did you —?"
"You took off with the wrong packet," he continues, saving me an explanation as I flush in embarrassment. "The morning after, I opened what I assumed was my envelope, and I saw ones of places I've never been to before and knew right away that they didn't belong to me. And I've got to say, you're not bad at taking photos. They looked quite good."
"Thanks," I say sarcastically, trying to avoid showing any sign of appreciation at his compliment. "But when did you look at them? Did you look at all of them?"
"I did. I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I was curious. I tried to return them to you, but when I went to your dorm, you were already gone. That's why I needed to contact you so I went to ask Niall since he had your number."
So that's why he needed my number.
"I haven't looked through my, I mean, your photos yet." It's true. I haven't even gotten round to them yet. "How did you want me to return them?"
"Hmm," he hums while tapping his chin with his pointer finger. I see that he's wearing a silver ring around it. "Let me think about it on the next hole."
Is he serious?
He's purposely trying to confuse me even further. Before he gives me the chance to respond, he's already walking towards the direction of the second hole. With a loud, frustrated sigh, I lift the large strap onto my shoulder and follow the almighty confusing Harry Styles down the hill.
...
For the next hour, he keeps quiet for majority of the time. Once in a while he'd look up towards me catching me looking right back at him. Then he'd flash a smile to himself and I'd bask in my self embarrassment.
This has happened too many times since we've met.
I can't help myself. It's done unconsciously.
When he finally puts the ball into the last hole, I force my hands to come together in a slow, yet subtle applaud. He hears the encouragement and tips his visor slightly as the corners of his thin lips turn upwards. Does he realize I was trying to be sarcastic?
He retrieves the white ball, putting it into the front pockets of his khaki trousers. It's quite strange seeing him in something other than dark tight jeans. It's his usual apparel.
"Did you want to join me for dinner?" He asks as he returns the iron club into the bag beside me.
"Dinner?" Is he asking me out right now?
"Yeah, so we can return each other's photos."
"I don't have your photos. They're at my house," I tell him and he shrugs.
"So what? You'll get the envelope from your place and we'll meet."
"Umm, okay," I answer questionably, unsure of my own response. "I live about fifteen minutes from here. Where did you want to meet?"
He thinks for a second before giving me a reply. "Here. At the country club at seven."
"Okay."
There's a lingering pause. He keeps his gaze past me while he pulls out something from his back pocket.
The phone. His phone. It still has the picture of what happened earlier.
"Can I have your phone for a second?" I am stupid enough to ask. I should have just snatched it from his hands.
"Why?" He asks unsuspiciously.
"Because .. because I need it. So I can enter my phone number."
He doesn't look the least bit convinced by my reasoning as the creases on his forehead grow apparent. He taps on the screen on his phone, thinning my patience. The rascal's lips slowly turn upwards and I know exactly what he's looking at.
"You'll delete it, won't you?" I ask him, my voice slow and civil, pleading even.
He shrugs with a playful grin on his lips. "Delete what?"
"Harry Edward Styles."
"It's Cardboard Box, Ellie Bubble Wrap."
I advance a step towards him, causing his arm to launch the phone towards the sky. Continuing my pursuit, I reach for the phone in his hand with multiple jumps but fall short every time. It doesn't help that he's a foot taller than I am. He backs away from me in a circular motion, blocking my every attempt at his phone.
Harry begins to take quicker steps away from me and I run after him. At least try to run. I barely take five steps and in my vision, as if in slow motion, I see the lanky figure that is Harry fall behind a small curvature of a hill. For a brief second, I think he's only playing so I roll my eyes. When a few more seconds pass and I don't see him appear, I think he's injured himself.
In a slow rush, I make it to the top of the small hill and find Harry at the bottom. He's still breathing so that's a good sign. He's sitting on the green grass, his long legs straight ahead of him as he brushes some dirt off his arms and hands.
"Are you okay?" I sincerely ask as I kneel beside him.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he manages. "Must have tripped over something."
"Can you walk?"
He nods and attempts to rise from the ground. His balance falters momentarily and I instinctively wrap my arm around his back, my fingers gripping onto the side of his blue polo, intentively avoiding grabbing his hip.
"From the looks of it, it doesn't look good," he says before hissing out a wince of pain.
"Are you always this clumsy?"
"Yeah," he breathes. I notice that he's still smiling, even with the pain he must be feeling right now. I pull his arm around my neck to rest on my shoulder so that he can lean most of his weight on me and I carefully assist him forward. He's literally hopping on one foot and I can't even begin to imagine how thankful I am that there are no cameras around.
...
"I give you one simple job and you can't even do that!"
Ever since I returned through the doors with Harry practically on me, Marco's uncle, the boss of this country club, has been shouting his head off. So far, he's accused me of purposely hurting Harry, and even trying to sabotage his reputation. He knows how much I don't like Marco's foster parents, he also knows of my small regards towards him.
Let's just say, we didn't get off on the right foot. I get that with a lot of people.
His speech consisted of words like, "liable", "sue", "lawsuit", etc.
I guess it is true. He could get sued by Harry. He could lose the country club over this small matter. But I doubt Harry is the type of person to do that.
"You're lucky you're Marco's good friend or I would have you fired right now."
I hold in the urge to cry, to yell, to retaliate. There's one thing I hate the most and that's being yelled at. I remember a specific time in second grade where a boy touched my ass and I tried to get even by doing the same and we both ended up getting yelled at by the teacher. And I confess, I cried.
After twenty minutes of his scolding, he allows me to leave on account that I never be in contact with anyone like Harry Styles on his property again. I swallow my pride and agree to his request, knowing that my fleeting association with him will never ensue again.
Maybe Marco's right about people like them. Maybe it's best not to involve myself with the likes of them.
I exit the room in the most quiet, depressed manner. I shouldn't let this discourage me from keeping this job. Besides Marco helped me out with this one. I have to try. At least for him.
From the corner of my eye, I see a figure leaning against the wall and it doesn't take me long to recognize who he is.
He must have heard everything. He heard everything and he didn't have the courage to go in there and confess that he hurt himself. It's his damn fault that he fell in the first place.
"You okay?" He mutters. Seriously? That's all he's got to say. Not a thank you, nor even a simple sorry.
"Yeah, perfect," I say, my lifeless tone contradicting my words. I take his silence as my cue to leave but I hear his uneven footsteps trying to catch up with me.
"Look, I didn't mean for you to get in trouble --"
"I know and I get it. Who knew you would trip and hurt yourself over a small lump in the grass," I sigh in frustration before halting my steps. "I don't really feel like meeting tonight. I'll send your photos to Niall and you can pick it up from him. Will that work for you?"
"How about your photos? Don't you want them back? I'll drop it off at your home."
"No. I don't want to bother you anymore. I can always reprint them. Just burn it or throw them away." He looks stunned by my orders, his remorseful gaze, his despondent frown. I didn't expect him to look so disheartened and miserable with my current situation. I would never tell anyone to burn any of my photos, they're after all, my work. But in this circumstance, I don't want to involve myself with him any more than I have to. "I don't think it's worth it running into you again. Just save me the trouble by respecting my personal space, okay?"
I don't know what his reaction was. I don't know whether he was surprised, or wounded, or happy by my words but I do know one thing for sure: I am never being Harry Styles' caddy ever again.
Author's Note:
HEY GUYS!
How've you all been! I know it's been forever since my last update and I apologize. I've just had no inspiration on how to continue this. I have it all written out in a small, messy outline, but it's hard to get it out into actual words and paragraphs. I dont know.
Please comment and vote!! I love hearing feedback :)