Remembering Sunday // h.s

Desperate- that's the word that describes my heart. Exhausted- the word that describes my life. And shattered- the word that describes literally every aspect of everything about me.
My name is Ana Winchester, and this is my story.

Copyright.© 2014 All rights reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission by the author.

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2. Chapter 2.

"Tonight was fun," Harry says, putting his car into park in the drive at my house.

"Yeah," I say as I reach to unbuckle my safety belt. "Maybe we can do this again sometime," I smile, looking up at him as I place my hand on the door handle, ready to open it.

"Of course." Those damn dimples. Shit. I can feel my body weakening and paralyzing under his stare and smile. Whoa. I fumble with the handle before opening the door, antsy to get out of his gaze. "Wait, Ana!" he calls out. I turn around on my steps, my keys reaching towards the door to unlock it. Harry has already gotten out of the Range Rover and is making his way towards me, running his hand through his hair. Is he flustered? No, Harry Styles doesn't get flustered. "I was just um, I was wondering if maybe I could take you out for dinner tomorrow night. I know this place, and um-" he trails off, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet. He bites down on his bottom lip, occasionally tearing his eyes from the ground to glance at me, maybe to see what I'm thinking. Holy shit, he's nervous. Harry Styles is nervous. Whoa, this is a sight.

"Yeah," I smile. As much as I love to see him nervous, it kind of bothers me, slightly. It's like watching your best friend fidget and squirm trying to get away from someone who makes him uncomfortable. Yes, my best friend is a guy. Why is that so hard to believe? And this person who makes him uncomfortable just happens to be some girl that stalks him. It's quite funny, actually, but she is rather creepy. She's four or so years younger than him, and follows him home from school a lot. It's, what's the word? Eccentric? Ah, yes, extremely eccentric. People sometimes say that I can be a bit eccentric sometimes, but I beg to differ. I'm not odd, just different, and different is a good thing. People also say that I have a tendency of changing subject rather easily, and as you can see, that is very true. "Wait," I turn around on my feet, confused, to face Harry. "I haven't got your number. How am I to call you if something happens?"

"Oh," he sheepishly smiles, walking back up the walk before stopping at my doorsteps. "What's your number, love?" I grin at him and give him my number, watching as he enters it before texting away at his screen. Oh? My phone vibrates in my pocket and I reach for it, noticing a new text. "That should be from me. Catch ya later, yeah?" he winks and walks away, getting back into his Range Rover before pulling out of the drive and down the street. I open the new text, and sure enough, it's from Harry. Yeah, I say to myself. Catch ya later.

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