Author's Note: Hello! I'm back! (sort of?) I've started college which takes a ton of my time but a writer never really stops writing so here we are. I was commissioned to write five one-shots by one of my most avid supporters and it's taken me a while but here is the first one! I hope you all enjoy it and thank you for your continued support and feeback.

Prompt: Elizabeth and Henry meet for the first time when one of them finds something that the other lost, and goes out of their way to return it.

He'd been watching her.

No. Not watching her. That would have been creepy. No, he'd just been...noticing her. Yes, noticing. After all, how could he not have noticed her? She was stunning, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and legs that, in casual blue jeans, seemed to stretch for miles. Henry, with another glance at her, decided that it was fine that he'd noticed her. As long as he didn't stare or make her uncomfortable, it was fine that he glanced over at her occasionally on the other side of this small section of the library, where she was sitting and reading, totally engrossed in the pages of the book open in front of her. As Henry watched her absently brush a strand of her honey hair behind her ear with delicate fingers, he wondered what book it was. He watched her flip the page, never taking her gaze from the words printed before her, and wondered if it was required reading or pleasure reading. It didn't look like a textbook, so he thought possibly for pleasure. Though, she might have been an English major; in that case, he could have known the title of the book and still not be sure if it was pleasure reading or not.

It was only when she turned the page again that Henry realized he'd been staring- exactly the thing he'd wanted to not do. He could feel the heat creep into his cheeks even though she- whoever she was- was still far too engrossed in her own reading material to have noticed at all. Something about her fascinated Henry, and he wasn't even really sure why. There were tons of pretty girls, and Henry wasn't often taken by physical beauty alone anyway. Usually, for him to be interested in a woman, he had to spend some time with her first. But even just watching her across the room, Henry felt something drawing him to this woman. Something more than her pretty hair and long legs or the way she bit her lip as she read. Something deeper than all of that.

Henry forced himself to look away, to stare down at the page of the open textbook in front of him and not look up at the unnamed girl that he found himself so drawn to. He didn't want to let her catch him watching her like that; Henry was well-aware of how uncomfortable something like that could make her, and he wasn't that kind of guy. That was something that he prided himself on, and he wasn't about to ruin it now. Minutes ticked by in which Henry determinedly did not even glimpse her out of the corner of his eye, and yet as he stared at the words on the page in front of him, he couldn't read a single one of them. They blurred together in a sea of denim jacket and blonde hair and elegant features that were burned into Henry's memory.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he picked up his head, just to glance over there, and found the seat vacant. She was gone. His heart was already beginning to sink at the knowledge that he'd lost his chance, when he noticed it. A denim jacket. Her denim jacket. It was slung over the back of the chair, despite the fact that she'd been wearing it when he'd last looked. When he glanced around the library, he found it entirely devoid of the presence of the jacket's owner and wondered when she'd gotten up and left. He wished he'd at least glimpsed the movement in his peripheral, but now that the opportunity for that had firmly passed, another plan was already forming in Henry's mind. After all, someone had to make sure she got her jacket back, didn't they?

Decided, he stood up and crossed the space that had separated them, and then he picked up the jacket. Something about holding it in his hands felt both wrong and thrilling. He shook his head, reminding himself that he was a grown man and should really pull it together over this girl he hadn't even met. He didn't even know her name, he thought as he turned the fabric over in his hands. And then he caught sight of the tag on the inside, with two neatly printed block letters on it in black marker.

E.A.

Henry smiled slightly to himself, knowing in that moment exactly what he was going to do.

When Henry found himself standing outside apartment 110 the next day, he no longer felt quite as confident. It hadn't been easy necessarily, but Henry was fairly connected on campus and he had managed to track down the owner of the jacket. He would have to cram later in the week to make up for the studying he'd missed, but something in him had convinced him that it would be worth it to meet this girl.

Elizabeth.

He liked her name. He liked the way it sounded on his tongue, the way it flowed, the elegance of it. He wondered if she had a nickname, Liz maybe, and hoped that she didn't. It was silly; he didn't know if he'd ever see her again after returning her jacket, but he still hoped she liked to be called Elizabeth, because he wanted to say her name aloud.

He had just raised his hand, not entirely steady, to knock, when the sound of footsteps to his right drew his attention and he glanced up. And there she was; Elizabeth, standing her on this side of the door, and wearing a leather jacket that made Henry wish he wasn't returning the denim on so that she would have no choice but to wear that one all the time.

Elizabeth smiled at the sight of him standing there like an idiot with her jacket in his hand, commending herself for her timing. She was sure he didn't know it, but she had not been oblivious to his presence in the library the day before. She'd been well aware of the handsome guy who was trying to be subtle about watching her across the room. She was confident that she had looked focused on her book, but she had been quite the opposite. He had caught her attention quite as much as she had his, and the jacket had been nothing but a clever plant. One that, inexplicably, Elizabeth had known he would fall for even though she'd never once spoken to him.

"Hi," she said, having come to stand beside him outside her own door.

"Hi," he replied, looking at her with hazel eyes, and she smiled, waiting for him to continue.

"Elizabeth, right?" he asked. The word didn't come out as smoothly as it had sounded in his head, but he tried not to show it.

"That's me," she answered. She looked down at her jacket, smiling slightly at the sight of it there in his hands.

"And that's mine," she added. Henry looked down quickly, and then back up at her.

"Right," he said. "Right, yes, it is."

Elizabeth tilted her head, watching him in charmed amusement.

"And you are…" she prompted. He sighed, clearly frustrated with himself, which only served to amuse Elizabeth further.

"Henry," he said. "McCord. Henry McCord."

"Henry McCord," she repeated. She liked his name, the way it sounded and felt. "What are you doing with my jacket there, Henry McCord?"

"I found it," he answered. "In the library, yesterday."

"You found it," she repeated. "And how did you know it was mine?"

"I- well, I noticed your initials in the label there and so I thought you should have it back and I had seen you sitting there so I knew what you looked like and I know a lot of people so I found some people who knew you and from there I found out who you are and where you live and...now I just sound creepy," he finished. Elizabeth smiled, waiting for him to chance looking up at her. When he did, and saw that she was smiling, he took a breath. She had a beautiful smile, even more so than he could have imagined when stealing glances at her the day before.

"That's very considerate of you, Henry," she said quietly.

He held the jacket out to her and she took it.

"Do you go by Elizabeth?" he asked, the words out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think that over. She laughed, pleasant and light and surprised, and if Henry hadn't already been a goner, he would have been now.

"Sometimes," she answered. She met his eyes. "You can call me Elizabeth."

"I- okay," Henry said. Elizabeth smiled, and Henry's heart skipped a beat. He was running out of things to say, there in the hallway, and so he knew this was his chance to take a leap. "Does that mean," he began, clearing his throat, "I'll have a chance to use your name again?"

Elizabeth couldn't help but smile at his bold, yet somehow awkward attempt at keeping her attention, unaware that he already had it.

"If you want," she began, "I could put this in my room and then you could use it over coffee."

Henry smiled, brightly, and nodded his head.

"I would like that very much," he said sincerely. Elizabeth smiled, a little wicked.

"You passed," she said. "I don't trust a man who doesn't drink coffee."

"You're in luck, then," Henry laughed as Elizabeth worked to unlock her door.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "I think I am."

And then she disappeared into the apartment and Henry was left to stand in the hallway, feeling hopeful and thinking that in reality, he was the one in luck.