Checkout Girl

One vanilla latte later, and Evelyn White finds that she can't seem to get this guy that she served that day off of her mind. What happens when this 'guy' turns out to be Harry Styles - and she didn't even notice?


6. First Kisses Only

If this gets 5 likes or more then I shall upload another chapter! A certain boyband member might just drop by to say hello...



After winding through alleys upon alleys in an attempt to lose those girls, we eventually break out into a narrow residential street leading down to Times Square. The only sounds were the short, sharp echoes of our shoes hitting the sidewalk and the softness of his breathing against my flushed –from-the-cold cheek. That, and the fact that he couldn’t seem to stop brushing his hand with mine at every given opportunity.

Just as we were approaching the blaring lights of the Square, the sounds of our feet beginning to fade into the hustle and bustle, he stops at a bench on the corner of the street. He rubs his chin thoughtfully. ‘Hmm,’ he says, ‘hmm.’

I smile confusedly. ‘Yes?’

‘Oh,’ he says, glancing up to my face as though he forgot that I stood beside him, ‘hello there.’

‘Hi,’ I say awkwardly, frowning.

He gestures to the bench. ‘Don’t you think that’s just lovely?’

Despite his tone being light-hearted, I couldn’t quite decipher whether he was being serious or not – there was just something that told me he wasn’t joking around. I laugh uneasily. ‘What’s lovely?’ Oh, what a British word.

Collapsing onto the bench, he traces his gloved fingers across a small plaque that sat on the wood planks. ‘First kisses only.’

I practically asphyxiate myself in trying to suppress a gasp. ‘Erm...’

His eyes flicker to mine and he offers me his hand. ‘Sit with me.’ Before I can stop myself I am shaking my head so violently that my earring tumbles from ear and onto the sidewalk. Blushing, I stoop to pick it up but he gets there first. The bench creaks as he leans back. ‘You don’t want to sit with me?’

I stand rigid. ‘I just–’

Before I can pull it away, he catches my hand and pulls me down onto the bench beside him. His warm breath tickles my cheek. ‘Do you really not know who I am?’

I frown. ‘Well, I do now...’

He laughs softly. ‘Of course,’ he says, ‘but I meant that time in the shop. You didn’t recognise me?’

I pause a moment, desperately trying to muster the right words; the words that wouldn’t kill his ego straight off the bat. ‘Well,’ I begin unsteadily, ‘I’m not really the right kind of person to ask. I mean, I only listen to music before ’69 and I don’t really read the newspapers or magazines...’

‘Hey,’ he murmurs, ‘who said I wanted someone who knew who I was?’ Wanted someone? That implied something quite...different.

‘But I just,’ I try, ‘I just–’

‘But you must have seen me on that billboard tonight?’ he asks, sitting up to look into my face now.

‘Yeah, I did,’ I say, ‘but it didn’t really mean anything to me. I mean, my friend told me that you were in a band but I didn’t know which–’

‘And does that bother you?’ he cuts over me. ‘Does it bother you that we’re on a billboard in Times Square?’

A frown ripples across my forehead. ‘Why would it? Does it bother a lot of people?’

He shuffles back onto the bench, our legs side-by-side. ‘You could say that.’

Glancing away, I catch sight of several girls strolling across the mouth of the street as it leads onto the Square. Harry’s leg tenses up, and suddenly his eyes are all over them. They wander across, arms linked, and the one closest to us glances in our direction – but only for a moment, for they have moved on and out of sight. He relaxes once more, and for just a moment I listen to the soft rhythm of his breathing. ‘Does it bother you?’

He is still a moment before he frowns, his eyes now flickering to meet mine. ‘Do you know something? No-one’s ever asked me that before. I don’t know...maybe a little.’

I relax into the bench a little more; it was cold but his body warmth forbade the bitterness from reaching us entirely. ‘But I supposed the pros outweigh the cons, yeah?’

He smiles slowly. ‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I guess they do.’ He is staring at me now, how he does, and he lays his palm facing upwards on my thigh. I place my hand against his and he entwines his fingers with my own. ‘Your lips are going blue.’

I brush them with my fingertips. ‘Are they?’ I say. ‘Maybe I should–’

But, before the words can tumble from my mouth to complete the sentence, he has leaned in and placed his mouth against mine. A hand comes up to hold my chin lightly, and whilst there was that fleeting thought to pull away – it was only fleeting. His mouth was soft like velvet, his breath sweet like cinnamon, and I wonder briefly just how many first kisses lingered on this bench.

This was mine.

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...