Status: active, hopefully
Untouchable
i'm reaching out and i just can't tell you why
August 13th, 2012
Jasmine could hear Radiohead being played on repeat as she maneuvered through the mostly intoxicated crowd (that mainly consisted of stressed uni students looking for an ultimate get away).
Her left hand was holding a bottle of beer that was barely full and even though it was nearing its end the summer air was still boldly present, hot and sticky, and Jasmine could feel a pea sized sweat dripping slowly down her left cheek.
From the corner of her eyes she saw Sam taking yet another tequila body shot in the middle of the huge living room, where the main commotion seemed to be taking place, with a cheering crowd who were carelessly using unnecessary profanities as their anthem as the audience.
Jasmine chuckled upon seeing this and that was when she realized that she herself wasn’t entirely in control of her own mind either.
The further she walked into the high class mansion the more she was able to spot familiar faces. Jake Brown, the American exchange student, exchanging a passionate mouth to mouth with Ashley Hughes, the campus’ epitome of a dumb blonde (who ironically was not even blonde). Her co-worker at the café, Matthew Cross, who seemed to be getting higher than the empire state (‘like the song!’ Jasmine actually thought and giggled out loud) confirmed by his laughing hysterically at the tv – that was blank. Maxwell Wright, one of her classmates, who looked like a hungry wolf playing with its food while seducing an oblivious newbie (poor girl) – he gave Jasmine a flirtatious wink when they shared an eye contact. Jasmine could only roll her eyes; even with her current intoxicated state she was not going to fall for some cheap, cliche charm of the male population.
Little did she know that the same could not be said to the person she was about to see when she took another three steps further into the house.
Spotted amidst the intoxicated uni students was Harry Styles, the person she had only met twice before, both under similar circumstances. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and an unbuttoned flannel over his white tank top; for a moment he looked like he could fit in there, if not for the fact that Jasmine saw his face literally everywhere around London on a daily basis.
He was talking to Andrew Frost – another of Jasmine’s classmates and the owner of the mansion – when she spotted him, his left hand tucked into his jeans pocket with the same bottle of beer that she was currently holding reaching his lips occasionally. Jasmine only realized she was staring when she saw him curiously turning his gaze to her direction, sensing her attention.
She did not know what to expect – but he grin at her and gave her a small wave, his eyes litting up – and Jasmine felt herself made her way towards him, suddenly giddy and nervous at the same time.
“Crashing another uni party I see, what’s the matter Styles, Nick Grimshaw’s A list parties aren’t doing it for you anymore and you’re looking for something more dangerous?”
To her surprise, he laughed and Jasmine was finding it so hard not to notice how deep the dimples on his cheeks were.
“I’m starting to be able to tell how drunk you are just by judging on your wittiness level, do you know? And I must say, the more time I run into you the drunker you seem to get.”
He was standing really close and Jasmine could smell his authentic scent (the weird combination between his cologne, fresh soap and mint toothpaste) which she was strangely getting fond of. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol in her blood system taking control but she felt her body temperature heating up, warm and fuzzy, and she suddenly felt happy. He spoke again before Jasmine could find the right to say; she found that she was thinking a little too hard.
“But hey, three times in row, I’m starting to think that this is a sign. Don’t you Jasmee?”
He held her gaze and smiled down at her genuinely despite his teasing tone, and Jasmine could feel her stomach churned unexpectedly at the nickname.
Butterflies
Jasmine didn’t really remember what she said next after that. All she knew was that she’d be damned if anyone could hear how loud her heart was thumping against her chest.
-
September 3rd, 2012
The sky was slowly turning colour from crystal clear blue into a brownish gold colour, much the same like all the leaves on the trees around him. People, some lost in their own thoughts with ears plugged with music to momentarily blocked the world, were passing through the big, majestic pathway in the middle of the park. In the corner of his eyes Harry could make out an elderly couple sitting peacefully on the bench, not far away from where he was standing – the same couple that he always saw every time he came there.
The park was always beautiful at this hour, Harry knew. It had become his personal gateway. It was the one time and the one place where people saw through him; too preoccupied with their own world to care about his and he had the chance to be the one observing, to be the one intrigued and astonished.
Harry found a sense of peace in it all; one second of serenity in his exhilarating, exhausting life and it was his and his only. He never shared it with anyone – not even Louis or Lou or Gem.
Until today.
It didn’t seem to matter that the sunset was glowing behind him, that people with different intriguing worlds were passing by around him, that the leaves were gold and the wind was gentle; all Harry could see were the faint freckles on Jasmine’s face and her clear, transparent brown eyes.
He didn’t know what had made him to take here there. He didn’t understand what it was about her that make him so – content. He was showing his vulnerable side, so fast and so out of his control and it terrified him more than anything.
She seemed to understand.
She seemed to understand that what she was seeing was a glimpse of his side that he never got to show a lot of people.
And Harry could see that she understood because she was looking at him with this lookon her face and this smile on her lips and this twinkle in her eyes.
Her lashes were the last thing he saw before he kissed her.
And Harry could almost swore he had never felt anything more breathtaking and terrifying, both at the same time.
Jasmine could hear Radiohead being played on repeat as she maneuvered through the mostly intoxicated crowd (that mainly consisted of stressed uni students looking for an ultimate get away).
Her left hand was holding a bottle of beer that was barely full and even though it was nearing its end the summer air was still boldly present, hot and sticky, and Jasmine could feel a pea sized sweat dripping slowly down her left cheek.
From the corner of her eyes she saw Sam taking yet another tequila body shot in the middle of the huge living room, where the main commotion seemed to be taking place, with a cheering crowd who were carelessly using unnecessary profanities as their anthem as the audience.
Jasmine chuckled upon seeing this and that was when she realized that she herself wasn’t entirely in control of her own mind either.
The further she walked into the high class mansion the more she was able to spot familiar faces. Jake Brown, the American exchange student, exchanging a passionate mouth to mouth with Ashley Hughes, the campus’ epitome of a dumb blonde (who ironically was not even blonde). Her co-worker at the café, Matthew Cross, who seemed to be getting higher than the empire state (‘like the song!’ Jasmine actually thought and giggled out loud) confirmed by his laughing hysterically at the tv – that was blank. Maxwell Wright, one of her classmates, who looked like a hungry wolf playing with its food while seducing an oblivious newbie (poor girl) – he gave Jasmine a flirtatious wink when they shared an eye contact. Jasmine could only roll her eyes; even with her current intoxicated state she was not going to fall for some cheap, cliche charm of the male population.
Little did she know that the same could not be said to the person she was about to see when she took another three steps further into the house.
Spotted amidst the intoxicated uni students was Harry Styles, the person she had only met twice before, both under similar circumstances. He was wearing a pair of faded jeans and an unbuttoned flannel over his white tank top; for a moment he looked like he could fit in there, if not for the fact that Jasmine saw his face literally everywhere around London on a daily basis.
He was talking to Andrew Frost – another of Jasmine’s classmates and the owner of the mansion – when she spotted him, his left hand tucked into his jeans pocket with the same bottle of beer that she was currently holding reaching his lips occasionally. Jasmine only realized she was staring when she saw him curiously turning his gaze to her direction, sensing her attention.
She did not know what to expect – but he grin at her and gave her a small wave, his eyes litting up – and Jasmine felt herself made her way towards him, suddenly giddy and nervous at the same time.
“Crashing another uni party I see, what’s the matter Styles, Nick Grimshaw’s A list parties aren’t doing it for you anymore and you’re looking for something more dangerous?”
To her surprise, he laughed and Jasmine was finding it so hard not to notice how deep the dimples on his cheeks were.
“I’m starting to be able to tell how drunk you are just by judging on your wittiness level, do you know? And I must say, the more time I run into you the drunker you seem to get.”
He was standing really close and Jasmine could smell his authentic scent (the weird combination between his cologne, fresh soap and mint toothpaste) which she was strangely getting fond of. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol in her blood system taking control but she felt her body temperature heating up, warm and fuzzy, and she suddenly felt happy. He spoke again before Jasmine could find the right to say; she found that she was thinking a little too hard.
“But hey, three times in row, I’m starting to think that this is a sign. Don’t you Jasmee?”
He held her gaze and smiled down at her genuinely despite his teasing tone, and Jasmine could feel her stomach churned unexpectedly at the nickname.
Butterflies
Jasmine didn’t really remember what she said next after that. All she knew was that she’d be damned if anyone could hear how loud her heart was thumping against her chest.
-
September 3rd, 2012
The sky was slowly turning colour from crystal clear blue into a brownish gold colour, much the same like all the leaves on the trees around him. People, some lost in their own thoughts with ears plugged with music to momentarily blocked the world, were passing through the big, majestic pathway in the middle of the park. In the corner of his eyes Harry could make out an elderly couple sitting peacefully on the bench, not far away from where he was standing – the same couple that he always saw every time he came there.
The park was always beautiful at this hour, Harry knew. It had become his personal gateway. It was the one time and the one place where people saw through him; too preoccupied with their own world to care about his and he had the chance to be the one observing, to be the one intrigued and astonished.
Harry found a sense of peace in it all; one second of serenity in his exhilarating, exhausting life and it was his and his only. He never shared it with anyone – not even Louis or Lou or Gem.
Until today.
It didn’t seem to matter that the sunset was glowing behind him, that people with different intriguing worlds were passing by around him, that the leaves were gold and the wind was gentle; all Harry could see were the faint freckles on Jasmine’s face and her clear, transparent brown eyes.
He didn’t know what had made him to take here there. He didn’t understand what it was about her that make him so – content. He was showing his vulnerable side, so fast and so out of his control and it terrified him more than anything.
She seemed to understand.
She seemed to understand that what she was seeing was a glimpse of his side that he never got to show a lot of people.
And Harry could see that she understood because she was looking at him with this lookon her face and this smile on her lips and this twinkle in her eyes.
Her lashes were the last thing he saw before he kissed her.
And Harry could almost swore he had never felt anything more breathtaking and terrifying, both at the same time.
♠ ♠ ♠
oh gosh, I think this story is going to be a little longer than intended.
Much thanks to you who read it! Would really love hearing what your thoughts are :)
xx ags.
Much thanks to you who read it! Would really love hearing what your thoughts are :)
xx ags.