Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

Part Six: If stars don't align...

February, 2016.

He has one of those faces that are, in their rarity, impossibly enticing.

His eyes are of a deep blue color, and they are a bit too wide apart, granting him this almost alien-like appearance. His nose is long and narrow, slightly crooked towards the tip. His mouth is small but the lips are full and heart shaped, with a vibrant shade of pink that contrast visibly against the paleness of his skin. And, although his jaw line is notoriously weak even under the perfectly groomed stubble, he most certainly has the sharpest of cheekbones to compensate for it.

When he smiles, which apparently seems to be all the time, he reveals a row of white, perfectly shaped and aligned teeth; and his voice feels as smooth as silk as it rolls out of his tongue with a properly posh London accent.

His name is Will. He is about to turn twenty six years old in a few days, and he is an up and coming architect at a budding, successful company.

He's charming and well spoken without being arrogant or narcissistic in the slightest. He laughs constantly and, most of the time, of himself.

He sworn he would keep his coffee inside his cup and off of my clothes, and so far he's been upholding that promise.

In all accounts, and forgetting the clumsiness that lead to our first encounter, he is the definition of a perfect man. And any girl shall be lucky to have him.

"So, how long have you been in London?" He asks, distracting me from tracing little circles on the wooden table with my finger.

"A few months." I answer shortly but trying not to sound too dour.

The thing is, even after the magnificent description I just made of him, I can't seem to connect. Not with the situation, and definitely not with him.

"And how do you like it so far?" He seems to be unaffected by my detachment, or maybe he just doesn't notice it. "I know it's not New York but..."

"I love it, actually. And I think it's better than New York." I manage to sound a little more engaged with the conversation. "People understand me when I talk here. And they're not constantly asking me what we call things here." I even joke.

"I totally get it." He chuckles. "What's with Americans and their obsession with British slang? How do you call this? And that?"

The way he impersonates the American accent as he points at different things makes me laugh, and for the first time since we sat down I feel myself starting to relax.

"Yes, it feels good to be home."

The rest of the date we spend it talking mostly about the most trivial of things, and for that, I am totally grateful. I don't think I could handle getting to answer any personal questions other than favorite movies or books.

"I would really love to do this again, sometime."

He is pulling over by my building, and I'm unlocking my seatbelt. I glance up to him and I give him a coy smile.

He doesn't even try to go in for an after date kiss and again, I silently thank him for the gesture.

In my head I try to find the right words to let him down gently, hating myself for not feeling absolutely anything towards him.

But my coward brain plays a trick on me and I am speaking before I realize what I'm saying.

"Sure, I'd like that too." I rush to give him a peck on the cheek and half a second later I am out of the car, closing the door shut.