Risy Behavior


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1. Chapter 1

There comes a time in some people’s life where they find that they can’t show their emotions and bar their hearts off from the outside world. The reasons can vary from them having their hearts broken or even just not getting the love they deserve. And then some where people over think things and leave out of pure fear. But everyone deserves their happy ending.

I know I over think things, but when you look around at the people in this particular coffee shop you feel the need to analyze them, profile them even. You wonder about their lives, what they do for a living, if they have ever been in love before. You wonder about the sad faces that come in and order a coffee and a chocolaty snack to cure their sadness, what made them so sad?

I know this sounds creepy but whenever I have my day off from school and work I like to sit in a nice coffee shop and watch the people. It’s not really their lives that interest me the most but their actions and what they would do in any situation. I’m a profiler, it’s what I do but I didn’t know that that very day I would meet my match and be the most confused I ever had been when it came to analyzing a person.

I sit at my computer, happily scrolling through websites at the random as the business of the coffee shop dies down to an all-time low. I sit in the corner, away from the public eye of the window, but still can see the people walk in and out of the shop, holding their prized coffee in their hand along with a snack to eat along with it. I am here for their facial expression, their movements, their moods and most importantly, the way they react to certain situations.

One man, maybe 24 or 25, trudges through the door at immense speed and closes it behind him, a hard expression on his face and he scans the room for what? A table? He has my full attention as I was him over my computer screen and then I hear it. I strain my hearing, looking away from the man, to listen further and I know without a doubt that it is the sound of screaming girls. I look up again at him and am startled that he is closing distance between us and before I knew it he takes a the seat across from me, his breathing still accelerating. Shock registers first at this sudden action but I soon shake it off. The only chair left in the semi busy café that was set away from the doors the seat across from me, why wouldn’t he sit across from me.

I stare at him, vaguely aware of a group of girls running past the glass windows, a few peeking in before running with the rest of the group. He holds my gaze, an intense look in his eyes as they flicker to the window as a confirmation that he was in the clear. I study him, like I do every other person that walks into the café.

He is wearing khaki chinos, a loose V-neck t-shirt with a blue plaid open buttoned shirt, a beanie over his hair and a pair of ray ban sunglasses that covered his eyes. I feel I have seen him somewhere and judging from the screaming group of girls I am thinking he was someone famous. I won’t lie to you when I say that he looked intimidating but also very nice and sculpted. His white t-shirt gave a visible outline of his chest and his arms ripple through his rolled up sleeves.

I feel a smirk grace my lips as I think of who he might be. A teenage heartthrob most likely, maybe a few years ago come to fame and then slowly slow down as people lost interest. Maybe or maybe he is some famous model; he would fit the profile very nicely, with his eyes giving now emotion. Models are usually emotionless anyways. I watch as he slips off his sunglasses, looking around cautiously before adjusting his beanie. My breathe catches in my throat as thoughts of this very attractive being enclose and take my mind.

I still cannot get the fact that this man had not left the second he had a chance to. Bewilderment enlaces my thoughts and I look back at my computer briefly to finding my key board very interesting. I hear shuffling and I hope he has gotten up and decided to leave. After about a minute I look back up and purse my lips slightly in surprise as he is still sitting before me.

He looked back at me finally, his gaze intensifying as I meet his gaze with difficulty. I felt the need to squirm under his gaze but I tried to play along and wait till he left or got up. But he didn’t and I couldn’t begin to read his face. His face gave little away, his eyes showing little emotion other than curiosity. He looked behind him and got up, going over to the counter, carful to not look toward the window as the girls came back around the side window, analyzing their surroundings. I understood their need to find him, I was once one of those fan girls who would run to meet someone famous but that ended long ago.

He orders, a small warm coffee and I expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. He sits down from where he was before and a slow smirk graces his face as he gazes at me. No words have been passed between us and I narrow my eyes at him.

“You have no idea who I am,” he asks, his voice having a slow, husky tone it, making me swoon a little.

“No,” I reply, my eyes still on him as he processes this information. He looks amused, his eyes still showing little emotion but soon his eyes soften a little, but his intense look still holds me still.

“Good, this is a first for me,” he says, a small smile appearing with his smirk and it finally reaches his eyes. I wonder what gives him the need to look guarded, hard even, and so intense. It’s slightly uncomfortable but I felt the need to talk to him, get to know him even if it was just for a few moments and then I knew he would be out of here as soon as the close was clear.

“Do I get a name, stranger,” I ask, a smile spreading politely over my face as I wait for his reply. Stranger, I am talking to a complete stranger that might possibly be famous. He looks me over, the guarded look over his face returning and his eyes return to their intense and cold look. I wonder about the sudden change and turn my urge to profile him down.

“Harry. Harry Styles,” He says, finally giving me a polite smile. I smile back and nod, his name ringing a silent bell in my head.

“Emma. Emma Winston, nice to meet you Mr. Styles,” I say politely, not sure what to call him. I don’t want to be rude and over step any boundaries so I stick with the polite Mr. Styles, hoping he would correct me. His grin widens as he hears his last name but he shakes his head knowingly.

“Call me Harry, though it is refreshing to get some respect,” he said, his face retuning to its original state. His many faces intrigue me and I laugh half-heartedly.

“I’m glad, so why, Harry, are you being chased after by a hoard of screaming girls,” I ask, my eyes ablaze with curiosity on who he really is. He looks at me, smirking again as he realizes that I truly have no idea who he is.

“I am in a way to famous band, perhaps you’ve heard of us. One Direction,” he asks, one of his eyebrows raised. Suddenly it clicks in my head and I laugh at my stupidity. The boy band my sister cherished oh so much as a teen One Direction.

“I have heard of you guys,” I reply, smirking as his face turns to relief for a millisecond and then back to its hard exterior.

“That’s good to hear, it’s not good to live under a rock, Emma,” he says, his eyes finally giving away some emotion, amusement I think. I close my laptop, and set aside as I reach for my coffee and watch him before replying.

“I can assure you, Harry, I under no means live under a rock, more like you have been quite under the radar of the media,” I say smirking, slightly as my witty side come out.

I get this mysterious and intensely heated feeling from Harry’s persona and I try and hide my bewilderment at his behavior. It’s none like I have seen before. He is more guarded and tough looking then most people look. My gut tells me it has to do with a woman but I keep my imagination to a down low as I watch Harry. He shifts in his seat, staring back at me, not breaking eye contact unless it was to blink.

“Well, Ms. Winston, the radar is not very familiar with us lately, there are other famous person’s in this world to,” he says, nodding at me. I feel my heart race a little, his gaze giving me a new feeling of un-comfortableness. I raise my eyebrow though at his reference to my last name and smirk slightly.

“Emma, its Emma,” I say, shaking my head at him as I sip my coffee, a silly grin appearing on my face as I think of the many girls searching for this man.

“Emma, it suits you,” he says kindly, my name rolling slightly on his lips. I fight the urge to shudder at this, his voice doing a many things to my brain and heart. I look intently at him and see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Thank you Harry, your name isn’t half bad for you either,” I say, smiling softly at him. I narrow his eyes at me before letting his face break into a smile, a real one I think.

“Emma, what are you doing in such a small café all alone,” he asks, his head coked to the as he watched me. I take a deep breath to calm myself from his intense gaze and half smile at him.

“I am just enjoying my day off away from family and workers and just on my own,” I reply, nodding slightly. I look around us, trying to look anywhere but at him and his gaze and quickly change the subject. “What brings you to this side of town, Harry?”

“I am in town for a getaway but it seems there are fans everywhere, there seems to be no get away,” he relies, shaking his head at the thought and puts his mugs down, his drink finished.

“Well then you haven’t seen much of this town to know now have you,” I ask, my eyes burning into his.

“No, I guess you are right. So, Emma, I have told you what I do, what do you do,” he asks, his eyes searching my face. I feel even more uncomfortable under his gaze like he is analyzing me and I pout inwardly as that was my job to do.

“I’m a profiler, I like watching people expressions, their movements and such,” I say, watching him as he processes this. He nods, his body becoming rigid and still as his face hardens more, and he looks away finally, and shrugs his shoulders slightly.

“Sounds interesting,” he replies. I let my mind wonder a little on his actions but I don’t let it wonder too much. His mysterious and rigid composure consumes my thinking and I try and analyze his movements but it’s hard, he gives nothing away. I wonder what made him like this, what possessed him to shield his feelings from the world.

I remember a cheeky, happy younger version of him as I recall my sister showing me video clips of them and her posters hanging on his walls. The smiles and the jokes of his band mates and all of the squealing my sister would do when he would come up on our TV screen. If I recall correctly, my sister even dragged me to a signing in my city where she meet them and everything. I remember a smiling, happy and giddy 19 year old but that is all gone, that much is evident.

“Well, Emma, I mustn’t keep you from your previous work, it was nice talking to a pretty face,” Harry says, his voice bringing me from my clouded thoughts. I blush a deep red as I realizes I must have been staring and I nod at him as he stands.

“Nice to meet you too Harry,” I reply and watch him leave the café, rigid and stiff with emotionless stature, thinking we would never meet again. But Fate has a way with people and places, that much is sure

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