muse// harry styles [[o.h]]

01; coffee

Grace Bailey sat in her favorite coffee shop, waiting for Harry. She crossed her legs and her foot tapped on the dark oak floorboard rhythmically. Her head was being supported by one hand, while the other was holding open a book she had grabbed on her way here. Harry was always late, which was something she had gotten used to over time.

"You going to say hi?" Harry's voice startled her, making her drop her book. "For Gods sake Harry." She picked up her book while he sat there observing every move she made, she was so delicate and careful, the complete opposite of who he was. "I'm going to go order." She murmured before clambering out of her seat.

They had met here every morning at seven am, for the past four years. Everyone knew their names, what they ordered, where they sat. It was comforting. He watched her walk away, her ponytail swayed side to side with every step. He was in love with her, God he was in love with her. He could stare at her for what felt like forever. He loves the way she closes her eyes and tilts her head back when she hears a really good song for the first time, the way she feels with every part of her body. Or how she bites her lip until it bleeds when she reads a good book.

"Grab my bag please Harry, I got everything to go. I want to show you something." She struggled with the cardboard drink carrier which held one large black coffee and a large vanilla latte with a shot of caramel cream.

He grabbed the bag of baked goods from her and shoved it in her bag. Her smile was so wide, exposing her cute little dimples. She grabbed his hand and tugged at it. "Come on now, quick!"

They practically ran out of the coffee shop, they turned so many corners half of the coffee had spilled out. "Grace slow down." Harry panted, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." She mumbled. She handed him the tray holding the coffee so she could tuck some loose strands of blonde hair back behind her ear and fix her bangs. Her cheeks were rosy from the embrace of the cold air, which indicated winter- her least favorite season, was approaching.

This time she grabbed her bag and began to walk side by side with him. "So what's this place you want to show me."

"It's this amazing place my dad used to take me to when I was little, it has this park bench, made out of wood, and my dad would read to me when we were alone. When all you could hear were the ducks and the whistle of the leaves." Her eyes lit up with the memory of the place.

"God-" She began to chuckle, "God I love that place."

It took all of Harry's strength not to tell her that- God he loved her.