red herring [h.s.]

27.

Harry.

I was watching Stella.

My eyes could physically not move away from her face.

She was seated opposite me on a yellow colourful chair, eyes glued to the computer screen in front of her. She wore a grey tight turtleneck shirt with a loose fitting flannel over it in red tones. Black skinny jeans covered her legs and she wore sneakers instead of boots today.

Her hair was in its usual soft waves, falling like a curtain over the sides of her face as her bangs framed her features. She had been running her agitated hands through her locks constantly and it was only a matter of time before she'd reach for the black scrunchie around her arm with a sigh and put her hair up in a ponytail to keep it away.

"Anything else for you two?" The barista snapped me out of my thoughts, that same lanky kid who wouldn't shut up about the different kinds of milk last time. I cleared my throat to see my empty cup, "Yeah, another one for me. Black with a dash of regular milk." I ordered and he nodded while scribbling down. Stella didn't move her eyes away from her screen so I tilted my head to the side, "Maybe a cup of tea for my girlfriend." Her nervous fingers were constantly drumming on the table yet somehow it didn't really annoy me.

That made her lift her head, a scrunch on her face in disgust, "Ew, no. Another black coffee please." She ordered softly and I chuckled, "Maybe a decaf." I tried. Stella rolled her eyes but didn't retort anything and the boy walked away again to prepare our orders.

When Stella looked back at her screen, I looked back at her. I had been trying to focus on the paper in front of me, specifically her column for this week, but I somehow found my eyes always wandering over to her. I wasn't exactly trying to hide it, and Stella being so oblivious to my gaze made me understand a little better how she hadn't noticed the multiple people constantly following her around for months now.

She had a small concentrated frown on her face, wrinkling up her forehead as her eyes critically glanced over the words she was writing. There were two notebooks on the table, one blank and one labelled 'FUCKING BOOK'. She had flicked through it about an hour ago before huffing, rolling her eyes and then closing it again before taking the other notebook and scribbling something down.

Basically I was watching her work. I had been for hours now and I found myself wondering why I didn't get bored, why I didn't grow sick of the view.

I had watched her biting her lip in anxiety until it started bleeding a little. I had watched her sipping her coffee and noticed how with each sip, her tongue darted out to lick the excess drop off of the rim of the cup before she placed it back down. It was an involuntary action of hers, I didn't think she knew she did it but I found it adorable.

I had watched her type a few words before she pressed her forefinger long on the delete key and removing everything she had written. I had watched her rest her face in her hands as she let out long sighs. I had watched her fiddle with her fingers, anxiously picking on the skin around her cuticles as she tried to come up with something.

"Stell, baby." I tried. She immediately flicked her eyes up, "Yeah?"

"Maybe you should take a break." I suggested, reaching my hand out to find hers, lacing our fingers together over the table. Stella leaned back in her chair and let out a breath, "No, no, I have to do this today."

I nodded, "I know, but just for a few minutes, yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side as she shot me a small smile, squeezing my hand, "I'm sorry I've been such shitty company today."

I rolled my eyes at her, "That's not what I was trying to say. Come on, let me see what you've got so far."

Stella shook her head, "No, I don't want to."