You spent a whole three weeks searching for Harry.
You expected his coy remark that first day at the coffee shop to mean that he'd see you there the next day.
You were wrong.
You waited a whole five hours for him to show but he didn't. You even asked the barista and they said they hadn't seen him but that if he showed they'd let him know you were looking for him.
You carried his flannel shirt in your tote every day since that day you'd embarrassed yourself in front of him. You also spent every single day since then replaying the entire exchange between the two of you and constantly wondered if you had scared him off.
You, Liliana, were not one to get infatuated with men. You were never the girl who dated in high school and you certainly hadn't had plans to start in college but here you were, for two whole weeks, wondering where that curly headed scoundrel had gone off to.
The first week was abysmal in terms of your ego. You sat at that coffee shop, day after day, hoping he'd show to no avail.
The second week was embarrassing in terms of your pride. You had decided to resort to borderline stalking.
You tried every form of "artist, Harry," "Harry, art," "cartoon drawings, Harry," in Google and nothing ever popped up. You then upped the ante.
You walked over to the Visual Arts building on campus and asked around about Harry, the cartoonist, and not a single soul knew who you were talking about. You knew he was here, it was almost like a sixth sense. He was a student, he was clearly your age, so you knew he was here....somewhere.
It was nearing the end of the third week and you had practically given up. Your friends told you that you must have dreamt him, conjured him up somehow in your mind after months of no real human interaction.
You knew though, you knew his pestering was real. He had left you his cartoon drawing of you which was now sitting on top of your dresser.
He had not been imagined.
"Liliana, hurry up we're going to be late!" Your friend Sharon dragged you out of the Uber and onto the sidewalk of the gallery.
"You're always late." You grumble to her as you are low-key annoyed that she's managed to get you to go to yet another event for her boyfriend Chad...the photographer extraordinaire.
Chad is not someone you like very much. You pretty much can guess from his blatant lack of respect for Sharon and his clear disregard for anything most women say to him, that he is a misogynistic asshole and he'd do just about anything to get what he wants. What he wants is to fuck Sharon, along with any other woman he lays his eyes upon.
He's rich, filthy rich, and he knows he can get away with just about anything.
You remind him every chance you can get that he is a piece of shit and that you see right through him.
He proceeds to call you a bitch and Sharon does nothing to stop him.
And so it goes....a vicious cycle.
"I'll stay for five minutes tops Share...and then I'm gone." You hate when Sharon pouts, her pretty peach lips pulling down at the sides makes you feel like a terrible friend but you also can't help that you didn't want to come in the first place because...well her boyfriend sucks.
You let out a sigh, say you'll stay longer if Chad behaves himself and earn a gleeful squeal from your friend. You hate to disappoint.
When you both enter the gallery, you are shocked at the images hung up around the walls.
Vaginas....everywhere.
"Oh God..." You are not a prude by any means...but this cannot be considered art.
"He calls it, "Glistening Poison," isn't that so poetic?!" She is swooning...actually swooning.
Shakespeare is quaking in his boots.
"Yes....poetic....what is it that he is trying to say exactly?" Before you can glance at Sharon for her answer, Chad has appeared and is shoving his tongue down your friend's throat. You tilt your head to the side with a look of disgust.
That can't be enjoyable.
"'Glistening Poison' is the culmination of my life's work Lili..."
"It's Liliana-"
"Whatever, it's me saying...yeah sure you have the power of the pussy but in the end your wet mound is nothing but a crippling disease...a weakness." Sharon swoons. You gag.
"Wow.....genius." You are disgusted and the sarcasm dripping from your mouth makes Chad want to pour his vodka cranberry all over your pretty little head. He won't though, too many people with a lot of money here to purchase his photographs. He can't risk it.
Instead, Chad takes a step towards you, dragging Sharon with him because he doesn't give a shit if she hears him, and whispers into your ear, "Why don't you go fuck yourself Lili...since no one else will."
Your eyes narrow as his putrid breath wafts into your face. He really is the most vile creature this Earth has to offer.
"Lovely. Sharon are you coming with me or going?" You ask kindly but you already know the answer because Chad has already dragged her off before she can answer for herself.
You are left standing there wondering why you even bothered to come here but your friend needs your support and so you take in a deep breath and walk over to the bartender.
"Tequila, neat." The bartender raises an eyebrow at you but you throw down a twenty dollar bill and he grabs top shelf without hesitation. You know if you are going to get through this night, you are going to need something of the buzz inducing kind pulsing through your veins.
The bartender hands you your drink and you take a sip like it's water. You leave a decent tip and walk along the gallery to find that he is the only featured artist this evening.
Figures.
Chad probably bought the entire thing out because he knew that if anyone else had hung up their work it would have taken attention away from his own. Chad did not like to share.
You have seen about four vaginas now when you decide it is time to take a break. You're not exactly sure how any of these people can stand there pretending like this is actual art work and actually purchase any of this nonsense but you'd seen a couple of horny older men writing checks and handing them to the art dealer.
Taking another sip of your drink, you head outside and thank God that it's not too hot but not too cold. The weather this evening is just right. The wind blows through your hair causing the black tendrils to drift across your face and you hate that you didn't bring a hair band like an idiot. It isn't called The Windy City for nothing.
"Liliana?" You are frozen on the sidewalk at the sound of the voice calling your name from where you just exited. You spin slowly around and find a familiar face.
There he is. In all of his glory, Harry has appeared as if out of thin air, wearing a silky long sleeve shirt with a pearl necklace tickling his collar bone, and you don't stop yourself from walking up to him and pinching his arm.
"Ow! What'd you do that for?" He rubs his arm with his other hand while looking at you like you are crazy. You are glad that you are in fact sane and hadn't made him up in your head.
"Sorry, I....I don't know why I just did that." You are mortified but far too thankful that he is here and real and tangible for the first time in three weeks.
He's more handsome than you remembered. The light green of his eyes is apparent even in the dark and you hadn't realized the beauty mark next to his mouth the last time you'd seen him.
"S'okay. I suppose I deserve that after how I pestered you the last time I saw you. I see no drinks have been spilt today." He teases you but you notice his eyes drag up and down your figure a couple of times in appreciation.
"No...no drinks have been spilled since that day. Loud noises get to me." He laughs at the memory and you smile at the sound. It is a pretty sound, deep and throaty. Again, your memory did not do it justice.
"So uh...interesting showcase yeah?" Harry points over his shoulder and you groan in disgust which makes him laugh again, dragging a ring adorned hand through his unruly curls.
"Interesting is not the word I'd use. Maybe grotesque." You sip from your drink again and notice you are almost empty.
"What...not a fan of vaginas?" His tone is playful, you get the sense he also finds the photographs unappealing but you are interested in his honest opinion.
"Big fan of vaginas, not so much of glorifying them as poisonous traps or the disease of men." Your tone is clipped, short, and you hope that he falls into your ploy to get him to be honest with you. He senses your aggravation and nods solemnly.
"Yeah....I think he's a bit of a nutter that one. In my personal experience I've only found joy and mutual pleasure with vaginas," he twists a ring on his finger as his eyes drill into yours, "massive fan of them." You roll your lips into your mouth to stop the smile that wants to spread across your face at his choice of words. Harry notices and coughs out a laugh at your reaction.
"Want to get out of here?" He asks but not in a way that would lead you to believe he means something other than simply leaving this horrendous art gallery. You nod, gulping down the rest of your drink, placing the glass on the top step to the building, and then follow beside him as he leads you to a new and unknown destination.
You both walk easily next to each other on the sidewalk. The way he slowed down with those long legs of his did not go unnoticed by you and you smirk at the gesture. The wind is whipping your hair around and you pray you don't look like a tornado but one look at Harry and he is chuckling to himself at your predicament.
"Here, let me help." Harry reaches a hand out and grasps your hair away from your face before putting his arm across your shoulder so that your tresses stay locked under his weight. You are both parts happy he is helping you keep your hair at bay but also impressed at his smooth move.
"Thank you." Another peek up at him and you notice a blush dusting his cheekbones while he pulls his bottom lip in between his two front teeth. You thought he had reminded you of a puppy dog all those weeks ago but now you can only see a white fluffy rabbit.
"So, what brought you to that art show? Ditch any friends for me?" He asks teasingly and you manage to not roll your eyes even though you want to.
"I know the artist...friend is dating him. He sucks." Harry looks down at you and coughs quickly, masking a laugh.
"Do you think those vaginas were your friend's?" You grimace and stop dead in your tracks and Harry can't help but double over at your reaction in hysterics.
"You sick fuck!" You exclaim humorously and swat at his back as you try, but fail, to hold your hair down as you bypass him. The sound of shoes slapping the concrete lets you know that Harry has caught up to you and you can't help but wonder if he'd be willing to chase you permanently.
You're a bit surprised at the thought. Not entirely sure why your mind would jump to something so quickly but you can't help it. Something about the obnoxious and loud boy from the coffee shop as he puts his arm back around your shoulders again has an effect on you that you weren't expecting.
You both walk in a comfortable silence. It feels to the both of you that you have known each other a long time even though you have only met twice.
Harry is just as surprised as you are by his willingness to be so carefree when he has spent so much time within himself. Quarantine had done things to his usual eccentric and outgoing self. It had taught him to look inside of himself into what he wants out of life. He decided that art was his passion and no one, not even his father, was going to keep him from his dream.
When he saw you at that coffee shop three weeks ago, you had been the inspiration he'd needed. Of course, he'd only shown you the one cartoon drawing he'd done of you but he had others...portraits and side profiles...one paper was only of your eyes and cheekbones with a smattering of freckles only on the one cheek.
You were his muse and he was terrified of asking you to model for him. He'd never had a model before, only finding himself drawing nature and animals, never people, but you had such expressive eyes and facial expressions...he was hooked.
"I was wondering, and you can always say no," Harry begins and you look up to him as you slow to a halt next to a bench that overlooks Lincoln Park, "would you be willing to model for me? I have an assignment of sorts and I think you'd fit perfectly for it."
You blink a couple of times before you sit down and look out at your surroundings.
Model?
You had never found yourself to be unattractive by any means but you certainly never had anyone ask you to be a model for them before either.
"Um...what all does that entail?" You ask sheepishly and Harry joins you on the bench, his hands sliding up and down his thighs out of nerves.
"Well, you'd come by my studio and I'd just have you act natural. Nothing posed, nothing crazy. Nothing nude," his tease from your conversation weeks ago makes your heart stop and then race suddenly in your chest, "but it'd be a huge help for me and I'd totally understand if you didn't want to do it. We don't really know one another and it is a big ask."
You're not sure what's gotten into you but you feel a yes coming out of your mouth but you stop it when you realize that this probably entailed more cartoon drawings of you.
Your pout lets Harry know that you have decided that you won't help him and he can't help the giant deflation of the hope he'd had saved up after all of these weeks.
You see, you had no idea that he too was looking for you. He'd searched for you everywhere. Typed your name into Google with different variants of "Liliana, reader," "Liliana, writer," and so on and so forth and all to no avail.
He'd looked for you for weeks and was so embarrassed when he'd walked into that coffee shop day in and day out and never once seeing you. He worked until eight most nights and realized that you were probably there, IF you were there at all, during the day like you had been when you'd initially met.
The realization that you'd had more of a lasting impression on him than he'd had on you was slightly hurtful to him but Harry was resilient. Always had been.
"Is it going to be more cartoons? I'm not sure I want to be made fun of more." Your voice interrupts his thoughts and he smacks his hand against his forehead and laughs.
Of course you are worried it is only cartoons meant to mock you. He'd never shown you what he'd done before.
You watch patiently as the handsome boy beside you pulls his phone out of his back pocket, almost dropping it twice, and then scrolls through his photo album. His long fingers are hypnotizing to watch as he flicks it across the screen and your mind has ventured to dirty things when suddenly his phone is thrusted into your face.
You pull his hand farther away so that you can actually see what it is he is showing you and your jaw drops.
There you are, in charcoal, looking up from over your book with an annoyed expression in your eyes. His finger twitches against the screen and now you are seeing, in the same style, you side eyeing him in what looks to be suspicion. Another flick and now you are looking at just your eyes and cheekbones, a small cluster of freckles on one of your cheeks and you remember his observation from before. Your hand reaches subconsciously to the freckles on your cheek and you look back at him.
"Wow." Is all you can say and the big toothy grin that makes his dimple poke into his cheek spreads across his pink lips as he pulls the phone away and places it back into his pocket.
"Thanks. I don't usually draw people but...you woke something up inside of me that I want to explore...if that's okay with you of course." Harry looks to you with sparkling eyes and you can't help but want to antagonize him a bit since he looks so anxious for your acceptance.
"I thought you only asked permission to draw people if they were in the nude. Something about the world being your oyster and drawing whatever and whoever you want?" Your words seem to light that flare back up inside of him as he mischievously looks at you out of the corner of his eye.
"Hmm...," Harry brings his long pointer finger and thumb up to his chin as if in deep contemplation before turning his gaze to you once more, "then I guess you have to do as I say and be my model then Liliana."
Your insides melt and pool deep inside of you at his words. The way he says your name does something dangerous to you and you want nothing more than to hear him say it again and again.
"I guess I do Harry."
Your eyes flicker down to his lips and you wonder if they are as soft as they look. It isn't really in your nature to want to kiss someone so suddenly, especially when they are practically a stranger to you. Yet, there is something about the curly headed boy sat next to you that makes your insides stir with anticipation.
"Now you have to give me my shirt back." You smile at his teasing and stand up to head back to the art gallery before Sharon wonders where you've run off to. The puppy dog of a man follows suit and soon enough, you are walking side by side again, hands sweeping against one another's before you feel his pinky finger brush alongside yours. Boldly, you grab his pointer finger and close your hand around it, still not brave enough to actually hold his hand but something about the way your tiny fist slots around his long pointer finger sends a happy buzz through your body.
Harry looks down at the petite woman beside him and wonders how anything so good could have come out of quarantine. How had he been so lucky to go to that specific coffee shop once the stay at home order had lifted? A smile screws up into the corner of his mouth as he recalls your coffee spilling onto your shirt and he's happy to note that he wishes to see more of your clumsy antics as time goes on, if you'll allow him.
You, too, look up at Harry and catch him staring down at you with those jade eyes and you match his knowing smirk. You can't believe that something so good could come out of quarantine and you thank your lucky stars that you ventured out into the new unknown world after the stay at home order lifted because if you hadn't...you wouldn't have met the obnoxious and jovial puppy dog of a man walking beside you now.
A part of you hopes that today is the start of something new...something warm...something lasting...
...and you decide then and there that you won't be returning that plaid shirt any time soon if only to use it as an excuse to see him over and over again.
The End.