Something Great

Chapter 2

"One day you'll come into my world and say it all..." - Something Great, by One Direction

Done. Finally. Burdened with multiple bags and the early stages of a splitting headache, I head towards the elevators leading to the parking garage. I press the button and after an interminable amount of time, the elevator arrives with a groan and I step in right as the doors open. I hear footsteps rapidly approaching, but I secretly hope the doors close before I'm forced to share a confined space with a stranger.

My hopes are dashed when a voice calls out, "please hold the lift!" Reluctantly, I extend my arm to hold the door. I'm just too polite for my own good. Shopping has apparently also fried a number of my brain cells, for my voice recognition doesn't kick in until the owner of the voice clears the elevator doors. Once again, I'm met with none other than Harry Styles.  Desperately hoping I'm not making a fool of myself (inside, I'm screaming), I can't look away from where the tips of his chocolate curls just barely brush his collarbones. After pressing the button for his desired floor, Harry looks up. "Thank you..." he starts, before his eyes widen and he tilts his head to the side in recognition. "Hey, I know you..." he says, his accent drawing the words out, so they seem to drip like honey from his lips.

The fact that he remembers me at all does not escape my attention, and I somehow manage NOT to gape at him like a fish. Instead, I respond brilliantly with, "well, we were both shopping and this is the only elevator into the parking garage..." I mentally slap myself, but try to recover, quietly apologizing. "It's been a really long day." Harry shrugs, seemingly unbothered by it all, and continues to look at me with an indecipherable expression on his face, his lips quirked up slightly. I find myself staring at his mouth. When the smirk grows, I know I've been caught, and quickly look away. Fuck my life.

Suddenly, with no rhyme or reason, a thought occurs to me, which I immediately voice.

"Um...I don't mean to pry, but shouldn't you have a security guard with you?"

Harry's smile falters slightly, and I immediately know the reason why. I'm sure, deep down, he was hoping I was just some stranger in an elevator, allowing him to just be "Harry" even if only for a few moments. My question just confirmed, that despite his best intentions and wishes, he can never really be anonymous. I find myself feeling an almost overwhelming surge of sadness for him, and wish I could take back the question. His facial expression has gone from being open and friendly to being polite and professional, even distant. My stomach drops a bit in disappointment.

"Um, yeah, I told him to go wait in the van. The crowds were dead enough I didn't think I had much to worry about."

I nod in understanding, although he and I both know that his life, and all that comes with it, is a complete mystery to me. I find myself wanting to continue talking with him, even if just to hear that accent...but I'm not sure where to start. The awkwardness is almost tangible, and the small space is becoming claustrophobic.

Just as I'm about to grow some balls and start a conversation (anything to end the uncomfortable silence), the elevator comes to a shuddering stop, nearly knocking both of us to the ground. Instinctively, Harry reaches out to steady me, taking my arm gently. His hand on my arm sends a jolt of electricity through me that makes me gasp. I look up to thank him and again am met with that unfathomable expression. He swallows convulsively. "I, um...it's nothing," he mutters roughly. He immediately removes his hand and takes a step back. To avoid eye contact, we each stare at the door, waiting for it to open on the floor at which it just stopped. When it doesn't, we glance at each other, equally bewildered. "It's always been a really slow elevator" I remark, trying to make light of it. Unfortunately, Harry doesn't seem too reassured. When he attempts to smile, it's more of a grimace.