‘Did my heart love till now’

Laila’s POV

On my way home I couldn’t stop thinking about my new acquaintance. Harry. What almost happened in that Library? Was he about to kiss me? He seemed to. Did he fancy me? He certainly acted like he fancied me with our suggestive conversation, all the gazes, leaning down when we were sitting on the floor. And then, in seminar, he came to sit right next to me and glimpsed at me all the time. The simple thought of it made me tremble all over again as I’m trembling at this very moment. As far as I know I fancy him, for sure, and I’m almost certain he has already realised it.

What was wrong with Miss Franzen today? She was surlier than ever. What was her problem? I’d known her for a couple of years and she was never very fond of me, but this morning she was so aggressive to me. She has reached new levels of unkindness. Or was I imagining things? Oh, well, maybe I was being too sensitive with all the new feelings Harry gave to me.

I arrived home knowing that my sister Georgiana wouldn’t be there yet, as she was still at college. She’s two years older than me and this is her last year as a Psychology student. She attends the University every morning and in the afternoons she works at our family’s chemist’s business nearby. I prepared our lunch as I kept watching the clock on the wall. I was so thrilled about what happened earlier I could hardly wait to tell her everything.

“What did you cook, Laila?”, Georgiana asked me from her bedroom as she let her bag fall on the floor.

“I made ‘fettucine all’Alfredo’”, I answered, laying the table.

“No cream, I hope…”.

“Are you serious? Just lots of butter and parmigiano”, I explained to her.

“Well, how was your day, darling? Was it fine?” She asked as she took her place on the table. I jumped as the memories returned to my head.

“There’s something I want to tell you…”, I stuttered, looking down, suddenly shy.

“What is it, Laila?”, she said. I didn’t know where to start. “Oh, Laila! It is so obvious! You just met somebody!”.

“Yes, I did”, I mumbled.

“So, who is he? Where did you meet him?”. She took a bite of her fettucine. “Mmm, this is delicious, Laila. You should quit Literature and become a chef”. I gazed at her. “I’m sorry, you were telling me something about this boy. What’s his name?”

“Harry Styles”, I muttered. She has so much more experience than me in this particular subject. Everybody loves her. She’s so beautiful and confident. I can’t believe she doesn’t have a boyfriend. It must be because she doesn’t want to.

“Great name, Laila–––she says while eating. Well, I want to know everything about this Harry boy. Come on, you can tell me…” She said grinning in reassurance.

“He’s the new student I told you last week. I met him today but I absolutely crushed over him. You should see him, Georgiana, he’s so gorgeous. He’s breathtaking. Green eyes, warm gaze, charming smile, large hands and, you know, intelligent and very fond of reading…” I said.

“He sounds like the perfect man,” she observed.

“As I was saying, I just met him so I don’t quite know him yet, but he’s such a gentleman, so polite, so careful and thoughtful,” I explained to her.

“Oh, my, Laila. You fancy him a lot, I can tell.”

“I do, Georgiana. He’s so… He’s so… Oh, I can speak no more about him. He’s just too…”. I threw my hands to my forehead.

“You’re crazy about him, Laila. But, wait. Did something else happen between you two?” She asked smirking at me.

“Well, I don’t know. I’m not… I’m not quite sure–––I doubted. Well, I guess I might say so. It was a bit weird when we were alone in the Library…”

“Please, tell me!”

“We skipped our lecture and we went to the Library. I think we flirted a bit speaking about literature and then he read to me…”

“He read to you?–––she interrupted. This is good, Laila! Different, but positively good.”

“Well, it’s not that special anyway. We are Literature students…”

“Please, tell me, Laila, I implore you–––she ironised. How many classmates read to you in the last… Let’s say, since ever?”

“To be truthful, none,” I admitted, coming to understand her point.

“So why do you act like it meant nothing?” She asked, turning suddenly serious.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not sure about what it meant,” I said.

“Why are you so confident when you speak about Joyce and so insecure about boys? I don’t understand you, Laila. You are almost borderline,” she spoke right into my eyes.

“Do you want me to carry on or you’ll continue to criticise me?” I snapped.

“I’m sorry, Laila. It’s just so frustrating sometimes… But, please, carry on.”

“It’s me that’s sorry–––I apologised. All this Harry fling makes me extremely nervous. I think… I think we almost kissed…” I whispered.

“Do you think you almost kissed or did you almost kiss?–––she said in that psychologist’s tone she uses sometimes. What happened? Why didn’t you just kiss?”

“Nice subtleness, Jacques Lacan–––I mocked her. The librarian interrupted us…”

“That is so infuriating. But tell me, what happened then?” She asked resting her chin on her fist.

“I left. Maddy called me at the Students’ Office,” I explained.

“What for?” she asked, puzzled.

“To talk about Harry…” I said.

“To talk about Harry?–––she blurted. Well, that’s nonsensical. You were all over him!” She laughed.

“Well, she couldn’t possibly know that…” I pointed out.

“Well, she could figure it out…–––she said, quite annoyed. What happened next?”

“We had our Shakespeare’s seminar.”

“So?” She straightened up in her chair.

“He was late and came sit next to me,” I said.

“Fine move, Harry. I like you… And then?”

“That Miss Franzen didn’t allow us to speak to one another. She kept gazing all the time. We barely talked,” I explained to her, reminiscing the moment with fury.

“Hmm, yes. Miss Franzen–––she said rolling her eyes. I remember you’re not very fond of her.”

“Not fond at all. And now, for some reasons, I think I like her even less than I did before…” I declared.

“Well, back to the main story. Anything else happened between Harry and you?”

“As I said before… He’s such a gentleman. He walked me to the bus stop and even waited with me until the bus came. And he asked for my number…” I said, feeling enthusiastic again.

“And you gave it to him, don’t you?” She asked doubtfully.

“But of course. Do you think I’m that fool?” I protested.

“I wasn’t sure… Well, do you think he’ll call you?” She said while starting to remove the plates from the table.

“We have lectures tomorrow, so I guess not…”

“Please tell me you changed your clothes when you arrived home and you weren’t dressed like that this morning…” She said as I got up to help her with the serving.

“I must say I certainly was,” I declared really offended.

“Some things needs to change.”

“Don’t be this hard on me, Georgiana–––I pleaded. I’m not that bad. And you surely know I usually dress better than this.” I didn’t want my insecurity to grow.


“Well, if he almost kissed you wearing that…” She made a pause while pointing at my outfit. She can be so obnoxious. “Frankly, it speaks highly of him. Maybe he really fancies you.”

“Do you honestly think that’s even possible?” I asked touched by her suggestion.

“Oh, my God, Laila. Look at you. You look so much like your beautiful sister…” She laughed. It is utterly impossible to stay mad at her.

–.–.–

If I had not given my number to Harry I would never start to tremble as I do at this moment when my phone begins to ring and an unknown number appears on the screen. It’s him. It must surely be. I pick up the phone trying to regain my composure.

“Hello, Laila, It’s Harry,” he says huskily.

“Oh, hello, Harry–––I say clearing my throat with discretion. How are you?”

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“I was listening to some music,” I answer, sitting up on my bed. For some unknown reason, I’m not able to speak to him while laying down. Who do I want to fool? I know exactly the reason. Oh, God, Laila. You just met him today. So, why do I feel like I’ve known him forever?

“What are you listening?” He says.

“Right now? Coldplay,” I reply looking melancholically at the front cover of the compact disc. I love this picture.

“I like them. What song exactly?” Why is he so interested? Is he analysing me? Is he testing me?

“‘Shiver…’” I mumble.

“Oh, I love that song!”

“Well, I guess you do. You love everything…” I say cheekily.

“That is true. I have a big heart–––he observes in a pompous manner. So, what is your opinion about it?”

“I’m sorry, about what matter?” Why does it seem he always intends to confuse me? Or does he turn me into an idiot?

“The song,” he says. I can tell he’s smiling. He’s so intimidating.

“Hmm, I love it too,” I admit reluctantly.

“We love the same things…” He declares. Why, Harry? Why must you insist on mind games?

“Oh, well, I think we’re just too passionate,” I counteract, trying to minimise the importance of what he said.

“You always do that,” he mutters under his breath and I prefer to ignore his remark. But I’m trembling all over again. “So… The song?” He asks after a silence .

“I love the lyrics.” What did just happen?

“What specific line do you love?”

“Hmm, the most evocative: ‘From the moment I wake, to the moment I sleep,’ ‘If you want me to change, well I’ll change for good’ and ‘I’ll always be waiting for you’,” I say, shaking the incident out of my mind.

“An outstanding choice. But, perhaps I’m gloomier than Chris Martin because, personally, I think people don’t change, even if they want to.” That is sort of sad, but I have to admit I feel quite the same way.

“And I think the idea of waiting in vain for someone is just evil. But I love poetical wilfulness anyway or, as philosophers designate it, idealism.” I feel so sharp as I speak. I hear him sigh. Why did he sigh? Don’t overthink about it, Laila. Focus on your conversation.

“So, do you want to hang out?” He asks after a brief pause.

“Do you want to hang out with me because you're not acquainted with anybody else in this city?” And again: What about this urge to neutralise him?

“I know plenty of people in London,” he says boldly.

“Do you? But you just moved here…” I’m definitely the greatest fool on the face of this planet.

“I live with my sister and all my best friends live here too,” he says.

“Do they? Oh, well… I didn’t know. I assumed you felt lonely and that was the reason…” I try to explain myself.

“You assumed wrong–––he interrupts me, laughing. So, do you want to hang out with me?”

“I have an essay to write…” I’m a fool. I know I’m a fool. Georgiana will murder me. But he just cannot expect to jump into my life so blithely.

“That is a negative.” He sounds startled.

“I guess so,” I say.

“Are you sure?” He asks. Now he sounds all cheeky again.

“I am.” I say firmly. He chuckles.

“It’s fine. Anyway, I have a rehearsal later,” he points out.

“A rehearsal?–––I snap. What do you rehearse?” Now I’m startled. There is so much more of him for me to discover.

“I sing in a band, and I play bass guitar,” he explains slowly.

“Do you?” It’s difficult to recover from the revelation. Is he a musician now? Why does he have to be this perfect?

“Yeah,” he says plainly in his Mancunian accent and I almost faint. This is just too much to manage.

“That’s extraordinary…” I mumble.

“Maybe you can come when you don’t have an essay to write–––he says. Well, I suppose I see you tomorrow, then.” Now I wish I had said yes in the first place. But I’m this ‘unmitigated and comprehensive’ fool.

“That would be lovely, Harry–––I force myself to say. See you tomorrow,” I mutter, hanging up the phone. I bring my iPhone to my lips as I try to process my emotions, rocking back and forth to calm down. And this is how it starts.

I’m in deep trouble…

–.–.–

Notes

Something different, yes. Oh, well.

Check out my other Fan Fiction here:

Dreaming Of You

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy it <3