Don't Let Me Go.

“Medium Americano and and a chocolate chip muffin!” Lennon calls into the busy shop. It’s a Monday and it’s seven thirty in the morning, which means it’s been two days since the boy left his number and it’s been two days that Lennon diligently avoided calling him. It also means that it’s been three annoyingly sleepless nights and Lennon has never felt more tired in her life. But she pushes past it as she slides the items up onto the bar.

“Thanks,” comes a soft call. Lennon’s breath hitches as she chances a glance up. And of course, the tall boy with the pretty green eyes is staring at her from over the bar.

“Yeah, yeah. Have a good day!” She prays her voice doesn’t shake, but a small part of her knows that it does anyway, but there’s nothing she can do about it but hope that the tall boy will just go away. But no.

“You never called.” Lennon halts from making the Nonfat Vanilla Latte that she’s supposed to be making and slowly brings her eyes back to the boy’s.

“Sorry?” Yes, of course. Playing dumb is obviously the best way of getting out of this. But seeing the way that the boy’s face drops a little hurts more than she thought it would.

“Oh. I, erm, I left a note with my number. So I could thank you for the tea?” Okay, now his voice is wavering a little as well. And that’s terribly endearing and Lennon doesn’t want it to be terribly endearing and she doesn’t want for him to be nervous like she is, but it seems he is anyway. And that just makes this even more difficult. But she can’t change strategies now.

“Oh, well, uhm. You see- Liam, he, uh- he’s the one who cleaned up over there the other night. So-”

“He said he’d make sure you got it. I asked him before I left.” His brow is furrowing more and more with every word and Lennon feels herself starting to crack.

“Maybe- maybe he forgot?” The boy’s eyes fall to the ground then as he starts muttering to himself.

“Why would he do that? He promised-”

“H, listen-” As soon as she hears it, she catches herself. But she’s already too late because the boy is staring at her again, this time looking even more like a kicked puppy.

“So you did get it.”

“I...yeah. I did.” God, if she felt bad before, it was nothing to how she felt now.

“Why didn’t you call?

“I…” And. Well. She’s not really sure what to say. Because ‘I was scared to call’ sounds like a total cop out, even if it’s the god’s honest truth. But before she can come up with some sort of answer-

“How’s that vanilla latte coming?” Lana snaps from the register before smacking her gum. It’s really too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

“Almost done!” Lennon calls back before actually starting to work on it again. But “H” is still standing there, those big sad eyes watching her. “I really can’t talk right now, I’m sorry,” she finally tells him. His face doesn’t change, but he gives a quick nod.

“Right. Okay. I’ll just see you in Business, then.” And then he’s turning for the door, but wait-

“What?” Lennon almost squawks, prompting him to turn back around, a small smile finally touching his lips.

“Business 130 with Professor Dawson? At 10:10? Room 3247?” His eyebrows are high up on his forehead now as he tilts his head to the side, almost challenging her to disagree.

“You- you’re in that class?” She’s hoping for some kind of explanation, but all she gets is a,

“I’ll see you there, Lennon Montgomery!” And then he’s out of the shop and Lana is screaming at her to make the goddamn Vanilla Latte.

She may forget to make it nonfat, but the snotty looking woman who picks it up from the bar could probably use the fat, so she doesn’t feel too bad about it. She finishes off another two drinks before pulling her phone out to text Liam.

he knows who i am mayday mayday this is NOT a drill.

And then she shoves the phone back into her pocket, missing Liam’s near instantaneous response along with his few worried ones shortly after.

who does? wht are u talking abt? is everythign ok???

lennon?

lenny pls answer im getting worried

srsly worried now pls answer me

--

At nine thirty Liam comes bustling into the shop, all flailing limbs and crinkled eyebrows as he corners Lennon behind the counter.

“Do you even look at your phone? Christ, I’ve been texting you all morning!” He crows, and Lennon has to fight down a giggle because Liam swore, and well, Liam doesn’t swear. Much.

“I’m sorry, Li! It was super busy all morning,” she tells him as she pulls her apron off and grabs her phone from her back pocket. A fond little smile comes to her face as she reads the texts and then she’s cooing at Liam.

“No, shut up! I was really worried, Lenny! What happened?”

“That guy came in. And he knows who I am.”

“That guy, that guy, that guy…” Liam taps his chin thoughtfully as he tries to place the boy from Lennon’s vague description.

“The one from Friday?”

“Oh, the bloke that left you his number! Did you ever call him?” Liam’s eyes have gone all wide because he’s a sucker for a good romance, but Lennon just shoots him a pointed look and that’s the end of that. “What- well why not?”

“You know why not!” Lennon huffs as she takes to the back room to grab her bag, but Liam is hot on her heels.

“Oh god, he’s not asking for your hand in marriage! It’s not like he even asked you out!”

“Let me pay you back? What do you think he meant, Liam? I panicked, okay? I panicked. But it doesn’t seem like I can escape him anyway because he knows who I am and he’s apparently in my Business class.”

Liam gives a scandalized gasp.

“Really? How did you not know? I mean, I’m into girls, Lenny, but he’s a looker.” Lennon shoots him an incredulous look before grabbing her bag and making her way back up front to snag herself a cup of coffee and a Banana Nut Muffin. “Lennon, really-”

“We’re ending this discussion, Li. I’d like to eat my food in peace and then go to Business where I can die.” And with that, Lennon brushes past Liam and heads for the back corner of the shop to sit by the fireplace. It’s only after she sits down that she recalls that this is where the whole “H” thing happened and then she lets out an almighty groan before shoving a piece of muffin into her mouth. She really can’t escape this damn boy.

--

Lennon likes to think she’s a wishful thinker. When she needs to be. Like right now, as she’s dragging her feet toward her Business class. She’s hoping -- no, praying -- that the boy has fallen ill and won’t be in class. Or maybe he dropped it. It’s still early enough in the semester. I mean, sure, he said he’d see her there, but maybe it was a joke. Maybe.

But alas, when Lennon pushes open the heavy door and makes her way to her seat in the second to last row, who should be sitting behind her claimed throne?

“What are you doing?” She whispers sharply, as not to alert the other students of the dilemma. The boy lifts his eyes from his desk, where he’s already been doodling in his notebook. It looks like some large tree, but it seems a little mangled and well, that’s just sad, even to Lennon. And Lennon knows sad.

“Oh, you made it!” There’s a large grin slapped across his face as he stares up at her, and Lennon fights the urge to glare.

“What are you doing?” She asks again, dropping her bag onto her chair.

“I’m...sitting?”

“Yes, thank you, I gathered that. You just happened to sit behind where I always sit?”

“Lennon, I’ve been sitting here the entire semester. Guess you just never noticed. It’s okay, most people don’t notice me anyway.” And Lennon almost scoffs at that one because, c’mon, people would be stupid to not notice this boy. He’s tall, he’s lean, with gorgeous hair, intense eyes, and a dazzling smile. How could someone not notice him? And yet…

“I…” And Lennon’s brow furrows because she can’t figure out what to say to that, so she huffs and turns to sit in her seat.

Professor Dawson comes in shortly after and begins roll, and for once Lennon listens closely. Surely she’s at least heard the boy’s name before. When her own name comes up, she gives a minuscule ‘here’ and she can practically feel the boy smiling at her. And then suddenly-

“Harry Styles?”

And that deep voice rumbles from behind her.

Hm. Harry, Harry, Harry. Yes, perhaps she has heard it once or twice. Though Lennon doesn’t really blame herself. Unless her professors are talking about important things, she tends to zone out. She has a lot of things to think about. Like, pills or a blade? Does she walk in front of a speeding bus or does she find a tall building to jump from? A lot of thought is going into killing herself, as she sees fit. You don’t want a sloppy suicide. That leaves room for mistakes, errors. And frankly, Lennon doesn’t have the time nor the heart for an attempted suicide.

Dawson leaps into a passionate lecture about merchandizing, or maybe monopolies. Lennon doesn’t really remember because her mind is stuck on Harry. HarryHarryHarry. Where did he come from? Why is he all of a sudden making himself known? Lennon gave him a cup of tea, not a kidney. But then Dawson is dismissing them and, fuck, Lennon doesn’t take a single note that day.

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath before quickly lurching toward the girl in the next row. “Sharon, is there any way I could get the notes from today? I kind of spaced,” she admits sheepishly, and before Sharon can even turn to look at her, Harry’s leaping out of his seat.

“You could borrow my notes!” Harry calls in earnest, already moving up so that he’s standing next to Lennon. Lennon tries to ignore the way his arm brushes against hers and she can feel how warm he is through her sweater.

“Harry, it’s-”

“Don’t worry, Sharon, I’ve got it,” he tells Sharon, who spares the smallest of glances between the two before shrugging and then ambling out of the classroom. Lennon lets out a deep sigh before turning to face Harry, and she definitely does not notice that they’re standing really close. Definitely not.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry’s eyes widen momentarily and he swallows roughly, trying to collect his thought.

“I- I just- I wanted to thank you for the tea. Like, properly.”

“It was tea. A ‘thank you’ would suffice. You don’t have to-”

“Please, just let me take you to lunch. You get the notes and a free meal out of it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

A lot of things could happen, Lennon thinks. He could be a serial killer. But then again, that would solve her suicide issue. And if he’s not a serial killer and the whole thing just sucks, then Lennon can speed up the whole process by jumping in front of that aforementioned bus. So finally, she sighs.

“One lunch.”

Harry’s eyes brighten, and Lennon tries not to blush because, really, when was the last time a guy got that excited to have lunch with her? And Liam doesn’t count.

“One lunch,” Harry repeats, a wide smile splitting his face before he turns and quickly packs up all his belongings. “What time is good for you?”

“You mean you don’t have my class schedule memorized?” Lennon snaps before she can even stop herself, and she doesn’t miss how his face falls once again. “Harry, I didn’t- that was a joke. Sorry. I get done Lit at 12:10? And then I’m done for today.”

The smile makes a comeback.

“Great! Where should I meet you?” And god, he just looks so hopeful and so happy that she’d said yes, that Lennon can’t really think past anything but his shiny teeth and his happy eyes.

“Uhm, wherever you want, I suppose?”

“Right, erm, how about in front of the library? Is that near your class?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll, uhm. Yeah.”

“Great!”

“Great.”

Christ, when did they get this awkward around each other? Because Lennon can’t seem to stop fidgeting and Harry’s cheeks may or may not have a tinge of red to them and Lennon doesn’t really no what else to say, so she sort of waves before dashing out of the room.

And then she checks her phone and sees that she has four minutes to get across campus to her Lit class.

--

“Hey, Lennon,” Zayn greets quietly with a small smile as the girl throws herself into the seat next to him in the back row. She’s out of breath, having run the whole way there and she definitely doesn’t miss the amused twinkle in Zayn’s eye. “Get distracted by something?”

“Shut up,” she huffs, and that prompts a chortle out of the darker skinned boy. The professor begins to call roll and Zayn takes that as his cue to start talking again.

“So I’m at practice on Saturday, right?” And Lennon just sort of grunts in response, because she really couldn’t care about footie, but Zayn’s really fond of it. Which, weird. Because Zayn seems like the quiet, poetic, artsy type. Like you think you’d find him graffitiing the wall of the locker rooms by the pitch, not actually on the pitch. But no, he loves the game dearly and he’s the top striker, or so he tells Lennon quite constantly. “Right, so Lou won’t stop shouting at Niall to shut up, which isn’t that unusual, but Niall was like, really passionate this time, yeah? So I asked him what was wrong and he starts wanging on about his roommate. Because apparently Harry won’t shut up about some bird who works at the coffee shop and-”

“You guys seriously gossip like high school girls.” And then Zayn lets out this almighty cackle that has the whole class turning to stare at them.

“Something to contribute, Mr. Malik?” The professor barks out, and that has a few students chuckling at Zayn’s misfortune. But Zayn just shrugs and gives a small “nah, I’m good, thanks.” And the professor just kind of gives him a stern look before turning back to her blackboard and writing something down about symbolism.

“So what’s going on with Harry?” Zayn whispers, and Lennon’s really, really tempted to smack him, but she opts to roll her eyes instead.

“Nothing.”

“Uh uh, that’s not what I heard,” he chides in a singsong voice. And well, that immediately gains Lennon’s attention.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you better explain right now, Malik.” And Zayn just grins and pulls his phone out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt, quickly flicking through his texts to pull up a string from Niall before handing the phone over.

harry just texted me , apparently he a got a date with her !

“We both know who the her is, Lennon.” He’s smirking at her, but she refuses to look at him as she shoves the phone back into his hands and forces her attention to the front of the room.

It isn’t even a date.