Constellations (Strange One Shots)

The First Date

Harry Styles

My mind has been running rampant with thoughts of her.

There is something infectious about her that keeps her in my mind. The way she smiles and gets little crinkles by her eyes. The sound of her laugh and the difference between when she finds something funny or when she's just trying to be polite. The way she speaks. Everything.

I sound crazy, picking this up all from one night, but she gives me a reason to be.

It's like everything had me storing the memory in a folder in my mind labeled just for her.

I snap myself from my thoughts of her for what feels like the fifth time in the last ten minutes and bring my attention back to the boiling pot of water and noodles below me. I stick the spoon into the water, spinning around the noodles.

My phone buzzes with a notification, making me step away from the stove where my dinner cooks. I tap the screen on the phone, lighting it up as I see who messaged me.

I feel a smile grow on my face as I read the contact name that popped up on my phone. Towards the end of the night, I remember very specifically just before I was about to head home, she stopped me and held her hand out.

I couldn't figure out what she was requesting for the life of me, causing her to playfully roll her eyes before she pushed out a small, "Phone, please.". I remember my heart skipping a beat as I watched her type her phone number into my contacts.

I hadn't noticed the name she had set herself as until she texted me the next morning when I got a text from "that girl from the bar," complaining about how she shouldn't have danced in the heels she had on, saying that her feet hurt more than the hangover she was nursing.

I snap out of my memories, letting my eyes linger across the text she sent me, feeling my heart stop slightly at a simple "hi" typed on my screen.

I spin back around on my feet to face the stovetop. I scoop one of the small noodles out of the pot, letting the steaming water drip off the spoon before I pluck it off, tossing it into my mouth to check that it is cooked enough. Once I determine that it is, I twist the knob on the stovetop to turn the burner off. I set the spoon I was using to stir the pasta down and move the pot of cooked pasta onto one of the burners that isn't hot.

I quickly spin back around to grab my phone, giving her my full attention through the screen.

I swipe open my phone, tapping on her message. I feel my cheeks heat as I type out a reply, mimicking the message she sent to me.

Almost as if she has me in a trance, I stay glued to my spot at the kitchen counter. I sit and stare at the screen, waiting for any signal that she saw my text. My eyes flick to the first change on the screen, seeing the delivered signal change to read.

My heart flutters as I watch her text bubble pop up, signifying that she is typing, but all too quickly, the text bubble drops, along with the feeling in my chest.

A split second later, the bubble reappears, and this time, a message from her comes through.

That girl from the bar

What are you up to on this lovely evening?

I let my eyes move away from the phone screen, turning to look around my silent apartment. They finally land on the stovetop where my half-prepared dinner sits.

I pull my lips into a line, laughing at myself.

Me

Not much.