I Fold [h.s.]

4

"You know," Harry says, setting down the water he had just taken a sip of. "I used to work at a bakery too."

I pick at the basket of fries set between us, raising an eyebrow slightly at his announcement.

"Really?" I reply, leaning forward onto my hand. "Would you say that's the secret to your success?"

He smiles and leans back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Stop acting like a reporter or something," He says, "We're friends."

"You're my boss, actually," I point out, but secretly I'm beaming. Friends.

"I make it a point to actually like the people I work with," He says, making a point to emphasize that we're equals. Except I know we're not, because his net worth is in the millions and mine is approximately $12.75.

"Okay, fine. Ask me something then."

"Why'd you come to California?"

I tilt my head. "I told you."

"No, you told me who told you to come here, I wanna know why you came. I wanna know why you stayed."

He's infuriatingly good at digging into people, that's for sure. I feel the air around us thicken and settle, as my heart settles heavy in my chest. I sigh and set down my fork.

"I met this girl in middle school and all she ever wanted to do was go to college in California. Like, she had it all planned out, and she was working so hard all through high school to just get here. At the same time she was like, the sweetest person ever—like if the sun was a person. She was my best friend."

"Where did she end up studying?"

"She died senior year," I tell him.

His mouth forms a small O. "I'm so sorry I didn't know—"

"It's okay, really," I reassure rapidly. It's really no big deal to me anymore, at least not if I don't think about it too much. "I guess, the mix of her and Noni and wanting something bigger led me here."

He nods knowingly.

"And I stayed because I felt like I had something waiting here for me."

"What was it?"

I leaned into the table, leaning on my elbow. "Hopefully you," I say with a cheeky wink. He laughs and I lean back. "Tell me more about Jamaica."

***

We finish our  very late lunch and Harry pays, but not without a lot of protest on my part. Finally, he ended up having to shove his credit card into the bill and pull it onto his lap so I couldn't sneak my own in.

After we pay, we step out into a late afternoon breeze blowing through my hair lightly. I pull it into one of my hands and twist it off of my neck. Harry's behind me as I pull my hair into a clip.

"You have a tattoo," He says. I turn to him.

"Yeah," I say sheepishly.

He peers at the back of my neck again. I know what he's looking at—a now slightly-faded tiny constellation of stars.

"Do you have any more?" He asks. I nod, surprised he didn't see them before. I turn over my arm and he holds it as we walk slowly down the street. He peers at the tattoo on the back of my arm, just above my elbow. It depicts two hands stretching out toward each other, but not quite touching.

"And then one here," I say, holding out my middle finger towards him. On the inside is a tiny smiley face, also faded. "It's kinda fucking stupid. I got it from some upperclassman in high school."

Harry smiles. "I love them," he says.

We continue our walk down the busy sidewalk, toward the beach right ahead. Now we're having a very in-depth conversation about tattoos. Harry shows me the visible ones, speaking excitedly about where he got them, when, and why. It's interesting to see him light up this way, especially when he tells the stories most important to him. I like the way his eyes light up and his smile becomes bright. When he smiles, there's a dimple on only one side.

He leads me onto a beach as he talks about a tattoo he got with Liam Payne, and suddenly I'm hit with a weird, floating feeling. My chest seizes up and I step forward but lose my footing on the sand and stumble. Harry grabs my arm to stop me from tripping. His hand is soft and warm.

"Shit, sorry," I say, pulling away from him. He shakes his head.

"You're fine, you wanna sit?"

I nod, thankful that he didn't ask anything or press into what made me go silent. He just motions for me to sit on a tall stone wall overlooking the ocean and pushes his hair back out of habit. We look out over the waves crashing down onto the beach. I feel his presence next to me, and it's somehow comforting. I don't know him well, and he's light years out of my league in every way, but for some reason he's right here and he cares enough to just sit and be silent.

I place my hands behind me and lean back on them, fishing through my memory for a specific moment. Not even a memory anymore, really—more like a feeling. A content, excited, happy feeling. I close my eyes, feeling the sleepy sun on my skin and the breeze kissing my cheeks. I imagine a girl next to me, gabbing excitedly, beaming widely. I imagine myself four years younger, shoes tossed on the wall next to me, hair long and braided down my back.

I open my eyes again and turn to see Harry looking at me. I smile softly at him and he turns away, then stands.

"I know a good spot for a sunset," He tells me.