You Found Me

“LEIGH!” Dad called loudly, desperate to be heard over the music I was blaring in my room.

“Yeah?” I replied, poking my head out into the hallway.

“I’m running out to go grocery shopping. Do you want anything specific?”

I thought for a second. “Nah. Anything you want to get is alright with me.”

He nodded. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

I disappeared back in my room just in time to hear my phone going off, the snippet of Give Me Love playing on repeat.

“Hello?” I started as I answered without looking at the caller ID.

“DON’T HATE ME,” Ariana’s voice screamed back at me.

I yanked the phone away from my face, plugging and unplugging my ear, making sure that it still had function. “Oh my God. Don’t hate you for what?”

“IkindofgaveyournumbertoHarrybecauseheaskedforitohmyGoddon’thatemepleaseIjustcouldtellthathe
reallylikedyou.”

It took me a second to decipher what she said. “Wait, you gave my number to Harry?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, slightly breathless. “Okay, so what happened was that Niall called Mike and said that Harry wanted your number. So Mike handed the phone to me, and Niall handed the phone to Harry, and I read off your number for him. I wouldn’t have done it if you guys didn’t hit it off so well at the wedding and you didn’t look so cute and perfect together just please don’t hate me please.”

“It’s okay,” I told her, hopefully getting rid of some of her anxiety. “Really. Don’t worry about it.”

She let out a sigh right in the mouthpiece so the sound crackled through my ear. God, my brain was getting a beating from that phone call. “I’m really glad that you’re not angry at me.”

“Of course not,” I responded. “By the way, while we’re already on the phone, I have to ask you… Have you, um…told Mike yet?”

“No,” Ariana whispered. There were the sounds of shutting doors behind her, so I figured she escaped somewhere Mike couldn’t overhear anything. “I’m too scared. We’d never talked about whether we wanted kids, figuring it was something that could wait until marriage.”

“Well, it didn’t,” I stated plainly. “And you should probably tell him sooner rather than later. If you put it off too long, you’re going to limit your options.”

“I’m not getting rid of this baby, Leigh,” she stated stonily. “That’s not an option.”

“Okay. Then don’t get an abortion. But you still need to tell Mike before you start showing.”

“You’re right. But I just…” She groaned, and I could almost see her rubbing her temples, desperate to relieve some of her stress. “I’m scared out of my mind for what he’s going to say.”

“Ariana?” Mike’s muffled, accented voice came through somewhere on the other side of the phone. “Are you alright, love?”

“Gotta go,” she mumbled into the phone before there was a little tone to tell me she hung up.

I sighed and tossed my phone back onto my bed before climbing back into bed. Instead of turning my music back on, I switched on the television, searching through the channels for something to watch.

Just when I decided on an old episode of Big Bang Theory, my phone went off.

My stomach clenched, and although I tried to suppress the feelings, I knew that I was freaking out over the possibility of the text being from Harry.

When I saw the unknown number as the sender, my heart fluttered a little bit.

Hey, it’s Harry. Ariana gave me your number. How are you?

I took a deep breath and waited what I hoped was a perfectly acceptable and controlled five minutes before answering. Oh, hi. And I’m fine, thanks. How about you?

I’m great. I actually wanted to text you to tell you that I’m going to be in Connecticut in a couple of days, and I was hoping that we could hang out or something.

Oh, lord, no. I mean, YES. But no. No no no. I had a feeling that if I kept hanging around Harry, I’d do more things that I’d possibly regret.

But maybe that was a hint from the universe that I had to let go a little bit. Not that I was ever crazily reserved or cautious or anything. But it could still be a sign.

I’ll have to check my schedule to see when I’m free, but that could be cool. :D

Awesome. I’ll text you when I get there to tell you what days I could spare.

Ah. He got that I was trying to play hard to get. Whoops. Maybe I should have been a little cleverer, a little sneakier, about the whole thing.

Okay, cool. Just let me know. :)

With that, I put my phone next to me, figuring that he was done texting me. But then, less than a minute later, it went off again.

So what are you up to? Anything interesting?

Not really. Just watching Big Bang Theory and waiting for my father to get back from shopping. You?

Ah, Zayn loves Big Bang Theory. And I’m just packing for Connecticut. I can’t figure out which clothes to take.

I have no idea who Zayn is. But it’s a perfect show, so I don’t blame him. And do you have a huge clothes collection or something?

Ugh, having to stop packing to text you back is getting frustrating. I’m calling you.

I felt my heart skip a beat. Talking on the phone with people I didn’t know really well was one of the things I hated most in the world. For some reason, speaking with someone without being face-to-face with them made me sound like an idiot.

I didn’t have too much time to fret about it before my phone rang for the second time that day. “Hello?” I greeted, hoping that my voice didn’t sound too frightened.

“Hello, love,” Harry’s voice came over the other end.

I paused the television and fell back onto my bed so I was staring at the ceiling. Very teen movie, but I didn’t care. “So what’s your dilemma, you prima donna?”

He sighed. “Ouch. But I just can’t figure out what clothes I want to take with me. And it’s not that I have too many clothes.”

“Really?” I questioned with a teasing tone. “How often do you repeat outfits?”

There was an excruciatingly long pause before he answered, “I honestly don’t even know. I don’t think I ever repeat outfits.”

I choked back a laugh, and it escaped as a little snorting sound. “That’s just awful,” I told him truthfully. “And quite spoiled, actually.”

“Not spoiled. I’m just creative and I can mix and match.”

I stayed quiet, letting him go over what he just said a couple of times.

“Alright,” he admitted. “I might be a tad spoiled. But that’s my mum’s fault, not mine.”

“Whatever you say,” I replied.

For the rest of the afternoon (into the wee hours of the morning for him), we chatted back and forth. There were a couple awkward silences, but nothing that lasted too long; Harry was very good about thinking of new things to chat about.

And for some reason beyond my control, I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, even after we’d hung up.

“You okay?” Dad asked me when I went downstairs to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Fine,” I responded nonchalantly.

I didn’t think he believed me.