"I'm sorry about before."
"About what?" I ask, not sure why he's suddenly apologizing.
"About, well, loads of things," he heavily sighs before continuing. "We haven't known each other for very long, and I already feel as though I've committed a lifetime's worth of crimes towards you."
"Like what?"
"Okay, first off, calling you the B word when I should be addressing you by your full name," he lists but I'm already laughing by his first point. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because, you said B word," I state but it confuses him even more. "Someone who doesn't know our situation would think you'd actually be calling me, you know, the actual swear word."
He slightly chuckles while shaking his head.
"I suppose. But just so you know, I would never call someone by that. Unless I was in a very pissy, dickhead kinda mood."
"Understandable."
"Shall I continue?" He asks and I nod fervently. I absolutely would love to hear more reasons why he feels this way towards me.
He carries on with our past experiences, beginning with the moment he said that it'd be doubtful we'd ever meet again. He briefly explains that he was having a terrible night that night. I asked why but he wouldn't give me a definite answer. Instead of prying, I allow him to continue.
Second, getting me drunk. Which doesn't seem to me like a big deal now. I ask him why he left that night, but since we're just one day old friends, it's understandable he refrains from telling me.
He also continues listing his apologies for causing me the unnecessary trouble at my first day of work. It wasn't intentional for him to trip on his own two feet. Then persists with causing me even more inconvenience at the farmer's market, and again, for my sprained ankle.
"Maybe I should put you in jail for your crimes, sir?" I tease, eliciting a chuckle from him.
"You might just have to," he plays along. "What's the verdict?"
"Ummm...it was a close one. But the jury found you innocent."
He fakes a relieved sigh, and I find myself .. enjoying myself. This is rather fun. I haven't had this sort of rapport with someone since Marco. Who would have thought that conversation between me and Harry Styles would just flow. It's so effortless and simple, comfortable.
...
It's bumpy. It's terrifying. It's Harry Styles trying to ride a bike.
This was not a good idea.
I have no idea how he talked me into agreeing with this but with my left ankle out, it leaves me no other choice.
It seemed reasonable at the time.
It doesn't seem that reasonable now.
I mean, he rides it fairly well. Except when I'm in the backseat, with nothing much to hold onto other than the edges of his thin running jacket, it feels as though I'm going to fall off the back seat any second.
The bike hits a small bump on the sidewalk, causing my arms to fly around Harry's waist. Holding on for dear life, I screw my eyes shut and tighten my grip around him. My cheek rests on his warm back for a long second before I recollect myself and pull away from him.
Even with him in the front, his face not visible from my view, I can tell that he's wearing a huge grin right now.
My suffering must be so amusing to him.
Luckily, we make it into my neighborhood without any scratches or bruises and without being caught by anybody.
"You can drop me off here," I tell him. He looks back at me for a second before he slows down to a complete stop.
He lets me off first and I try to apply as little pressure as possible on my ankle when my feet hits the ground. The pain has slightly lessened since the accident but it's still there. He parks the bike onto the sidewalk and looks at me warily.
"You sure you alright?" He asks.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I reply.
There's a silent pause as I take in the current situation. Harry Styles is standing in my neighborhood, worrying about my health. I don't think I've ever asked him the reason for his whereabouts in Wisconsin.
"It's crossed my kind more than once but .. "
"What am I doing here?" He finishes my thought.
I smile and nod.
"I'm reconnecting with someone from here."
"Ahh...I see."
His ambiguous answer is expected. I'm not taking it to much offense. I'll take the awkward silence as cue for me to leave. I take a step towards my bike, wrapping my fingers around the handles, and give him one last look to signal my goodbye.
"Wait, I have a question for you, Elaine," Harry suddenly mutters, causing me to freeze in place. It's not his voice that made me halt. He called me Elaine. Unusual. As slowly as I can, I twist my hip slightly to face him, awaiting his question. "But I'll ask you another time. When it's more appropriate. Until next time, Elaine."
And with that, he casually takes off, his hands in the pockets of his shorts, never looking back at me. Something red around his wrist catches my eye and it takes me no more than a second for me to realize that it's my bracelet.
He's actually wearing it? I don't know why I find it so hard to believe. I simply never thought that someone like him would wear something made by someone like me with my own two hands.
I hope he doesn't get lost along the way back .. to where he came from.
Where is he staying?
At a hotel?
At someone's home?
I don't know what it is about Harry Styles that makes me this ... curious. He has a way of making me think about him. He keeps me wondering and he probably knows it.
Being around him, it almost feels surreal. Not in a lovey kind of way, but a refreshing kind of way. One that is chill, laid back, and easy to talk to. One that makes you feel important. One that genuinely listens and understands your problems. When I talk to him, it seems as if I'm the only person in the world. You don't find that a lot these days.
Strangely, I still find him a teeny bit annoying due to some of our previous experiences. But maybe that's a good thing. I don't know why it is but at least he's not rude to me. And plus he's apologized about all of them, like a gentleman would.
As I try to fall asleep that night, my thoughts are racing with my unexpected encounter with Harry Styles (again) and my very brief (I don't even know if that's the correct term to call it), very fleeting moment with him. He didn't even notice me. He didn't even take one look.
Was I that invisible?
Was it that easy for him to move on?
Was I that easy to forget?
He looked good though. Almost the same as in high school. It's been about three years. Maybe even a little more than that since we broke up.
Well, we never technically broke up. He just started ignoring me the day after I told him that ... I loved him. And I have never, in my life, told anybody that I loved them. Not even my mother. Maybe a few slips here and there, but if I'm being honest, I don't know if I actually meant them.
If I say it too much, the value of my love decreases. If I don't say it at all, well, it's probably better off that way. Look what happened to my first relationship after telling him I loved him.
Maybe it wasn't how I said it. Maybe he didn't feel the same way back and after I said that, it made him realize that.
The word love just doesn't come easy for me. When I say it to someone, I want it to mean something. I want it to make their heart beat crazily, make their world stop turning and know that my love is the only kind of love that will captivate their soul.
But who am I kidding with all this bullshit?
I know that love doesn't exist. I know that it doesn't last forever. I should know better.
I know it more than anyone what it feels like to be abandoned and left behind.
But why do I still feel this way? Why do I still want him after what he did to me? Why do I hang on to things that cease to exist? Why do I, a selfish human being like everyone else on this God-forsaken planet, desire certain things that are beyond my reach?
Author's Note:
Sorry for being kinda late on the update! I know it's kinda short but I think, less is more, right?
Hope you all have an amazing weekend and vote/comment me your thoughts so far. (:
Emma <33 xx