Part Two: Louis
On my way out, I stumble over the steps leading up to the door of the bakery. I snap my head around only to see Harry in the window, laughing as he wipes the tables down. He certainly noticed. He gives me a small wave, and goes back to what he was doing.
Harry.
There was something about his name- however common it was- that stuck out to me. It was a very nice name; handsome even. It seemed to suit him well, too.
Harry.
I quite like the way it sounds. And his voice, it had this kind of raspy quality to it that made him all the more charming. He was just so…enticing. That was the only way I could think to describe him. He was indescribable, and unexplainable and completely-
Harry.
He was Harry. That was, in retrospect, the only way of putting it. His name was the only word suitable for him. No matter how hard I tried, it seemed that there was absolutely no proper words I could use that did him any justice.
I wonder if he has a last name. Who am I kidding of course he does. It probably matches his first name like socks to feet, or like a compass to a ship. There was a certainty in my head that whatever his last name turned out to be, it would be just as wonderful as his first name.
All sorts of thoughts like these filled my head the entire walk home. It seemed that the way back was a lot shorter than the way there. My walk before had been a quiet sort of saunter, and now it was rather quick and skippy. There was no possibility of me calming down, and from the back of my mind, I knew I probably wouldn't sleep tonight.
But for some reason, I didn't mind at all.
I slid my right hand into the pocket of my sweater and rested it there. It was around four o'clock, and the breeze was starting to pick up a bit. Thinking back now, I should've worn a proper jacket; but in my haste to get out of the house, practicality had slipped my mind. Oh well, I wasn't too far from the house anyway. Holmes Chapel is not a particularly big place, and just about everything is within a twenty minute walk from home.
I finished my tea relatively quickly, tossing the paper cup into a trash bin on the sidewalk. I felt bad throwing it out, Harry's writing on it and all. Is that pathetic? I don't know, perhaps it's a bit weird. I definitely won't be telling anyone about that.
With my tea hand now free of my tea, I place it into the other pocket of my knitted sweater. My bag slips behind me, bouncing off my bum as I walk. The wind picks up more, sending a cold rush up my back. I dig my fingernails (or what's left of them, I have a nasty nail biting habit) into the corners of my sweater pockets. When I do so, I feel a crinkly, rough object in my right pocket.
Why hadn't I noticed that before?
I stop my walking, and pull the paper out. It's the receipt from the bakery, and it's all wrinkled. Despite this, I can perfectly make out a scribble of black ink on the back:
It was lovely meeting you today. I can't wait to see you again! Please come back here soon.
Harry x
PS- Give me a ring sometime, its +44 5879563245
I nearly dropped the receipt for my excitement. My hands immediately go to cover my mouth. I squeal through my fingers, kicking into the ground with the ends of my shoes repeatedly. I don't think I can make any words, for when I try to it only comes out as little wails of delight. Not unlike a toddler on Christmas. I grip the paper in between my trembling fingers, and run the rest of the way home.
Part Two And A Half: Harry
At around four fifteen, Diana sends me home for lack of customers. That's been happening a lot lately, but then again, I guess the recession is really taking its toll on business. The hardware store closed its doors about a month ago; and they'd been open for almost thirty years. Diana reckons that if business doesn't pick up soon, she'll have to close as well. It's awful, so many people are getting put out of a job, my dad included. We're lucky that I haven't been laid off yet, we need the extra money. Mum's had to go back to work at the pharmacy too; and they almost didn't take her back. She wouldn't tell me how she got her job back, but whatever she did, I'm glad. It's really hit us hard. Last month, when dad got laid off, our income was reduced by about sixty percent; and we didn't make rent in time. There was even one day that I came home from school to find an eviction notice on the front door. Mum wouldn't stop crying. We barely scraped by that month; and we ended up having to empty out my little sister Beccah's piggy bank, and I gave her my paycheque so that we could stay. Since then, I've been pulling as many shifts as I can at the bakery, and Mum's been working nine to nine, and then she comes home, changes clothes and goes back out again. When she does go out at night, she's gone all night. The next mornings are always a bit weird, she'll come home in a tight dress and a lot of messy makeup; and her hairs always tussled like she just woke up. Dad's been going out every morning and applying in different places too. He's had no success yet, but one day, someone will hire him. I hope.
It's all been quite stressful, but none of us complain. I don't think that any of us really can, we all know that everyone's doing all they can to help out.
We don't think Beccah fully understands what's going on, and why Mum and I are always working. Nor does she understand why when Mum sends me to the shop I have to show the people at the desk some paperwork from the government, and then give them a stamp in exchange for a week's worth of food.
However, despite this, I've had a moment today. Several moments, actually, where all the stress was gone. Like magic, it all just up and disappeared. I was at work, cleaning up, and in walks this boy.
He was stunning. His body was much smaller than mine, and he had this blue beanie on his head, that showed a bit of his light brown fringe. He had his pants rolled up at the ankles, and I could see his bare feet sitting in his black Toms. They really suited him, the Toms. He had lovely eyes too. A deep sort of blue; like an ocean. One could easily get lost in them. But when he smiled, that was probably the best part.
When he smiled, the whole room just lit up. His eyes got all scrunched and he blushed something awful. I could tell that he was shy, and probably very nervous. And though I did everything I could to make him feel comfortable, really, I did; I think at first he thought I was a tad creepy.
But not by the time we finished talking. Well. I think maybe I did more of the talking. See. I started babbling like I always do when I get butterflies in my stomach, but I couldn't help it. He was just so…
He's just the type of person that I want to sit, and just…admire what he's like.
Louis.
Louis is his name.
You can call me crazy, but I think he might've liked me. There is nothing I want more than for him to like me. I even gave him my telephone number on his receipt; and I really do hope he finds it and calls me. It would be wonderful to hear from him tonight. Or perhaps tomorrow, I don't want to press him. Maybe he'll come to the bakery again tomorrow.
What if he does?
Of course I'd have to make sure everything is nice and clean. Maybe I'll go in early, just in case he comes back before the start of my shift. Mind you, my shift starts at ten am, he shouldn't be in before then. Should he?
No matter, I'll go at eight, just to be safe.
I spent the rest of the day trying to decide what to wear tomorrow. I'm really not sure what sort of thing Louis is into, so I don't have much to base my decision off of. After a few hours of debate, I end up settling on an old burgundy sweatshirt, and a pair of tight black jeans; as well as my grey beanie. It's my absolute favorite, the grey one. My aunt Gemma got it for me for Christmas last year, and I've lived in it since.
At around ten thirty, I settle into bed, with my freshly ironed sweater, and pants sat on the chair next to me. I always fiddle around with my phone for a bit before going to bed, checking the internet and whatnot. However, today as I'm doing so, I'm interrupted.
It's a phone call.
From a new number.
The phone continues to ring as I panic. What if it's Louis?
What if it is Louis? I nearly drop my phone trying to press the answer key. When I finally manage it, I glue the device to my ear, listening for his voice.
"Hello?" I greet, trying to sound as confident as possible. The voice on the other end of the line stammers a bit before answering.
"Hi…H-Harry. It's um…It's Louis."
