2

"What do you do for a living, Harry?" I questioned as we continued our trek to the shop. I huddled closer inside my sweater, chiding myself for not thinking of grabbing a coat before running out of the house this morning.

He looked at me curiously, the same look I had received after buying him a new coffee. It was as if he expected me to doing something insane, carefully watching me to make sure I stayed under control. The intensity of his stare caused me to avert my eyes while a light blush painted my cheeks.

"I am in the music industry," Harry replied vaguely, pulling at his beanie, trying to cram a few more curls underneath.

I nodded my head with interest. "Anything I would have heard of?"

He shrugged his shoulders, obviously wanting to change the subject. This was nothing I hadn't heard before. The dream of starting a band, living in the city, and making millions; a dream that usually ended in a job as a waiter. But looking at Harry, laid back and charming, he didn't seem like the type to settle for a simple job.

As we approached the shop - a.k.a The Picture Box - I began to wonder whether Harry was going drop me at the door with a hearty "See you later!" But as we reached the steps, he seemed to have the intention of coming with me. I glanced up at him ready to say our goodbyes when he reached over my head and pushed the back door open.

"After you, ma'lady," Harry said, swinging open the door with a corny courtesy and head bow.

I put on my best snotty expression, nose in the air and all. "I assume you will be waiting in the carriage for me once I am finished shopping, peasant?"

Harry nodded as though he was deep in thought but couldn't hide the smile creeping onto his lips at my participation in his little game.

I cleared my throat haughtily, sticking my hand out in front of me. "And you just think I am going to walk these stairs by myself? Some kind of gentleman you are!" I dramatically fanned my hand in front of my face.

"My apologies, ma'am! How could I be so flippant!"

When I reached the top step, I turned as though I was wearing a large, southern bell ball gown. But before I could resort about Harry's poor manners, someone cleared their throat behind me, causing me to jump about a foot in the air. Derek Molly, the manager, was staring at me disapprovingly, arms crossed over his chest. If the owners were the sweetest people alive, Derek was the devil. I had only been working for two days and had already picked up on his strict work ethic. And right now, being on the receiving end of his stares, I could see why so many people trying to avoid getting a shift with him.

"Kirby, second day of work and you show up late. Expect to stay till closing tonight." With that he wrote a note down on his clipboard and walked away.

I turn back to see Harry trying, and failing, to cover up a smile. His deep, contagious laugh makes it almost impossible not to laugh along with him. "Not funny, curly! He completely hates me now. More than he already did before." I punch Harry in the shoulder playfully, which only causes him to laugh harder.

"Hey, you did that to yourself!" Harry defends himself, smiling so big his dimples pop out. "I wasn't there one your first day to mess that up."

"I would invite you to come in," I start, suddenly aware that I have to say goodbye, "but after that I don't even want to show up."

His smile grows bigger, clearly amused at my situation. "When can I see you again?" Harry asks suddenly.

"Since you are driving my carriage home, I'd say after work."

He rolles his eyes, smile never wavering. "I'm being serious."

"So am I. If you don't walk the horses I will have to wait till I arrive at the castle so the stable boys can."

Harry gives a little snort before taking out his phone and handing it to me. "Put in your number, you nutter!" Who could say no to that accent?

I quickly punch in my number and toss his phone back.

"Hope to run into you again soon." I smile. And Harry adds. "Maybe not literally this time, ok?"

I laugh loudly, forgetting the disaster meeting. He starts walking back down the street we just came from but not before looking over his shoulder and meeting my gaze one last time. I am once again struck by the intensity of his stare, but I don't dwell on that too long because when he turns around, oblivious too my watching him, he breaks into a sort of gig that I can only describe as a happy dance, proving to me he is in fact the biggest dork I had meet so far in New York City. And I couldn't wait to see him again.

Notes

Hope that was good!! Please comment with any suggestions, anything you want me to change or add! I hope yall enjoyed that!