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maybe we found love right where we are

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January 3, 2019.

As she patiently waited in line for her turn, Harry took her cellphone out from her blue purse to check the time.

11:25 a.m.

She noticed, also, that she had an unread message. But she didn’t even have to guess who it was. It could only be her—just her.

I’ll be seeing you in a few hours x

The mere thought of thinking of seeing her made Harry feel as if she were the luckiest person in the whole world. And maybe she was.

Harry was certain that she was because, in just a matter of hours, she’d get to hold and be with the person she cared about the most.

She simply had to get over with the whole bureaucracy first. Patience was key.

Still, being patient had never been Harry’s thing—not in the slightest. She lived in the now: when she wanted something, she wanted it immediately. It wasn’t that she acted like a spoiled princess—she was far from being one. But when it came to having to wait for the things that she liked, Harry always got rather desperate.


The thing was that Harry had never had something truly worth waiting for. Everything and everyone in her life seemed to be there by force—not exactly by choice. She’d never had something she wanted enough to wait for days, months, and even years to get. She didn’t know what it felt like to need something so desperately and urgently.

At least, that was what her life used to be like until she met Louis.


Just the echo of her name in Harry’s head was enough to bring a smile to her lips. Just finding her name written in the books and stories that she liked, or listening to a song that reminded Harry of her was enough to make the curly haired girl get lost in a whole world in which only Louis mattered—in which only the two of them existed.

Louis changed her, and Harry knew that. She changed her in one of the most powerful ways you can possibly change a person. Louis taught her that there were things worth waiting for—that there were things worth taking risks for. She taught her that there was always something better around the corner, if you were brave enough to look for it.

But Louis wasn’t even trying to teach her that. Louis taught her those things by just being herself—her beautiful, lovely self. And Harry knew—she just knew that Louis was that something she had been waiting for her whole life.

Louis was someone worth waiting for. She was her someone worth waiting for. And when it came to Louis, Harry didn’t mind waiting. Not at all.

She didn’t even mind that the lady behind the desk was taking way too long to check her plane ticket and let her board. She didn’t also mind the kid screaming right behind her because he wanted to grab his mother’s cellphone to play games. She didn’t mind any of those things, because Louis was worth it. She had been worth the wait.

And, being so close to finally board the plane to get to meet her, Harry had absolutely no doubts about it.


It had all started one cold, snowy January night, two years before even thinking about getting into a plane—a night just like any other.

Unless watching series and checking her social media counted as actual fun things to do while being on Winter holidays, Harry didn’t have plans for the night. She never did. The girl was kind of a lonely soul, which meant that the most exciting thing she could think of doing would be to simply log into a random website and talk to random strangers.

And, no. Omegle wasn’t exactly a website well known for finding friends for life, or even potential partners. But if there was something that Harry had learnt after years of finding strange men in their forties showing off their two-inches-long dicks, it was that adding tags in that website saves lives. Or, in this case, Harry’s eyesight.

The roleplay tag was her favourite one, and the one that she used the most. It was sort of therapeutic to have a place in which she was able to write and create. But, at the same time, she found it just as incredible to share that process of writing with someone else, even if it was a complete stranger. It was as if two people with nothing or very little in common connected with only one purpose—the purpose of creating what their hearts desired.

But writing wasn’t special to Harry just because it was her valve of escape from her monotonous reality. It was also special because it happened to be the way in which she accidentally—or not really—found Louis.

It hadn’t been a good roleplay night—Harry remembered that very well. It was one of those nights in which people didn’t seem to be into writing, or were too picky about the content of the story. Hence, Harry had spent a few hours trying to look for someone to write with, but miserably failing.

What Harry knew about monotony was that it can be suddenly and easily changed, if a person is in the right time and in the right moment. It even seemed to her that there was an invisible clock regulating the exact moment in which things should happen—as if it were waiting for the ideal moment to occur. But, of course, Harry was fully aware that unexpected and life changing events didn’t occur daily—at least, not to her.

However, life events are well known for being unpredictable in good, bad, and mysterious ways—and that unpredictability, to Harry, must’ve had a name.

Call it God. Call it destiny. Call it universe. Call it coincidence.

Harry didn’t know how to call it. But if there was something that she was sure of was that, if she or Louis hadn’t been at the right time and at the right situation, they wouldn’t have met that night.

Of course, Harry didn’t have a way of knowing it was Louis at first. The only purpose of their conversation was roleplaying and having while writing together. It didn’t matter where they were from, or what their names, genders, or sexual orientations were. It was supposed to be fun—for fun’s sake only.

Although Harry didn’t know the person behind the screen, she thanked the unpredictable side of life—again, call it God, destiny, universe, coincidence or simply Omegle—that she had randomly connected to that stranger instead of another one.

The person was creative, which was something that Harry deeply admired in people. She always added plot twist and events that made the story flow smoothly. Harry didn’t remember when was the last time she’d enjoyed roleplaying that much, but there was something she was sure of: she didn’t want it to end.

And it didn’t.

After mutual agreement, the two of them decided to continue writing on an app the two of them used regularly. And, for a while, it was simply writing—none of them knew anything about one another.

Harry liked the anonymity. She liked the thrill of writing with a person that could be either a million miles away, or two blocks away from her home. However, sometimes she wondered where that person was from. She didn’t intend to be creepy—she simply got curious to know more about the creative writer she had been creating stories with for a while.

And sometimes, Harry asked herself if the mysterious writer also thought about her in that way.


But everything changed on February, 1—Harry’s birthday.

Harry wasn’t keen on celebrating her birthday. To her, there was no point in getting excited about a day in which random relatives who had never cared about her called her for birthday wishes.

Hypocrisy reigned in everyone’s birthdays, and that was something Harry was convinced of. But that wasn’t something Harry’s mother believed in. To Anne, it was a special occasion to celebrate and do something out of the ordinary—which was exactly what Harry wanted to avoid.

Needless to say, the different ideals led to annual arguments that never got anywhere. And those arguments, as silly and insignificant as they were, often made Harry upset.

That year wasn’t the exception.

However, Harry wasn’t expecting to receive the message she read that day—much less from the mysterious writer.

The writer had replied first thing in the morning, which was what they usually did. But, right under her reply regarding the story, Harry saw a message between parenthesis—and she just knew it would be a message meant for her.

Hey! I just wanted to let you know that today’s my birthday and since my relatives are coming over, I’ll take a while to reply again.

It had to be a joke.

Of all days, the mysterious writer had to be born on February, 1.

Harry was surprised, to say the least, and had a number of reasons to feel that way.

First, it was the first time that someone she knew shared her birthday with her.

Second, of all people, the mysterious writer—who, it was clear, already shared Harry’s passion for writing and creating stories—was the one who shared her birthday with her.

Third, for some inexplicable reason, the mysterious writer felt that she had to text Harry and tell her that it was her birthday that day.

Harry found herself staring at her screen, unable to react at first. But she had a smile on her face—a smile that was a clear indication that her birthday might not be as terrible as she had expected. Hence, she took the courage to quickly type up a response:

Really? It’s also my birthday!!

To Harry’s surprise, the reply didn’t take long to come. She was almost expecting the mysterious writer to be busy with her birthday. But it seemed to Harry that the writer was as excited to find out about this new piece of information as she was.

No way!! You’ve got to be kidding me. If you tell me you’re also turning 22, I’ll get scared.

The mysterious writer didn’t get scared—Harry was turning 20.

However, that was the beginning of something for the two of them. Something that, even though they didn’t know exactly what it was, they felt it was going to be important. Life changing. Mind-blowing.

And because, according to Harry, everything in life can be a reference to High School Musical or Disney movies in general, she thought it could be the start of something new.


It turns out that it was the start of something new indeed.

Ever since Harry found out that she and the mysterious writer shared the same birthday, she learnt a lot about the person behind the creative and innovating stories.

For instance, Harry learnt that the mysterious writer was a she.

It was a she who happened to live in a small town in Florida—who also wanted to move out and live in Canada because y’all are really chill and nice there and you don’t have human trash as president or in congress.

It was a she who was studying journalism with a scholarship she’d got due to her good grades. It was a she who had a passion for writing, and who posted brilliant stories in different online platforms for people to read. It was a she who also liked making trailers for said stories—which were even better than trailers made for movies, in Harry’s opinion.

It was a she who happened to love music—Lana del Rey was a huge yes to her—and who even sent her audios of her singing along to her songs when she was bored.

(It’s not that Harry would ever tell her, but she might or might not have listened to those audios a thousand times).

It was a she who happened to love changing her hair colour, and Harry loved seeing the way each hairstyle fit her perfectly. She loved suggesting future hair colours—by the girl’s request—because she knew that anything would look great on her. And Harry also absolutely loved when, one day, the mysterious writer sent her a picture of her new hair—still a dark shade of blonde, but shoulder-length.

(Harry thought no one ever looked so pretty with that haircut. But, for obvious reasons, she had to tone down her level of gayness and simply send an it looks great! when she saw that picture for the first time).

Harry eventually learnt that it happened to be a she who was absolutely beautiful. Gorgeous. Breathtaking, even. The girl had dazzling blue eyes that shone in every picture she sent her—and they even looked grey with certain lighting. She had a stunning, curvy body, but even though the girl didn’t seem to like it that much at times, it was flawless to Harry.

But it wasn’t just her looks what made the girl beautiful.

The mysterious writer also happened to be one of the sweetest, most caring people Harry had ever met. Whenever Harry was having a bad day, she would send her something to make her laugh—usually memes to make fun of straight people—or even words that would encourage her to go and do what she loved.

But as gentle and lovely as she was, Harry knew that she was also badass and determined—two traits that Harry wished she had. The girl wasn’t afraid of fighting for things and people she loved, and would do anything to achieve her goals.

Harry had also learnt that the mysterious writer’s name was Louis.


That name didn’t mean the same to her anymore, because it wasn’t any name. Everytime she learnt that a person was called Louis, Harry’s instinct was to immediately think about the girl.

And that, eventually, started to become a problem.


Thinking about Louis wasn’t a problem per se.

Harry loved thinking about her. She loved reading books for her English literature classes and find characters who reminded her of Louis. She loved whenever she walked past a store and spotted something that she knew Louis would like.

Harry also loved how close they were becoming. There wasn’t anything better than waking up and finding a message of the girl wishing her a good morning, because talking to her was her favourite part of the day.

Louis was Harry’s favourite part of the day, and that thought was both beautiful and scary.

It was beautiful because Louis understood Harry in a way no one else could. They had been talking for a few months, but Harry already considered her a true friend and was closer to her than to anyone else at that moment.

However, it was scary for a number of reasons, all of which departed from the same root: Harry liked Louis.

She liked Louis, and not just as a dear friend. She had an embarrassingly huge crush on her.

She had an embarrassingly huge crush on a girl that lived 2,176.8 kilometres away from her.

Being attracted to girls wasn’t new for Harry. She had always known—but fully admitted it to herself a while ago—that she liked both girls and boys. The whole questioning of her own sexuality was something she had been through in the past, which helped her discover who she really was.

And Harry was certain that she knew who she was.

The problem wasn’t Louis not liking girls. In the very beginning, the girl had told Harry that she identified as pansexual. The fact that she wasn’t repulsed by any sexual orientations might make anyone believe that Harry, deep down in her soul, stood a chance.

(She didn’t—not according to Harry herself).

The problem per se , thus, revolved around one simple but complex possibility: if Harry ever thought of telling Louis about her true feelings for her, she might simply end up ruining everything that they had—and that wasn’t something that Harry would be able to deal with. Louis meant a lot to her and, if being close to her meant that she would have to hide the way she felt, that was what she would do.

And that was exactly what Harry did.


It was exactly what Harry did until she realized she had to share her feelings for Louis with someone else.

She had to. Although she had always been reserved about the people she liked, she felt as if her emotions would burst within inside her and cause a chaos that she might not be able to control.

Hence, all this reasoning led her to text one of her closests friends, Niall, who arrived at her house in a heartbeat because he lived for the gossip and drama as long as it wasn’t his.

Of course, Niall already knew the basics: he knew that she was talking to a girl from Florida whom you never shut the fuck up about. His friend was very perceptive and intuitive, which maybe was the reason why, when Harry asked to see him, he already knew what she wanted to talk about.

“So, how are things going with this girl?” Niall asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively at his friend. “You know, the American.”

“What do you mean by how are things going?”

Niall rolled his eyes. He knew exactly that Harry was playing dumb to avoid talking about the main topic—which was something strange to do considering that she was the one who wanted to talk in the first place.

“You know what I mean. Stop beating around the bush and spill it out.”

Harry sighed and closed her eyes for a brief moment. One thing was admitting to herself that she liked Louis. But a whole different thing was saying it out loud. For some reason, saying it would make it even more real—more official.

“I think I kind of like her. As in, you know, I kind of really really like her.”

Niall scoffed. “Breaking news: Harry Styles has finally admitted that she has a crush on the American girl she’s always rambling on about. More at 5,” he said as if he were imitating a journalist’s voice.

Needless to say, that earned Niall a slap on his arm—even though he was laughing too hysterically to care about.

“Ni, I’m serious. I like Louis,” Harry sighed. “She’s the person I’ve always imagined to be with, but she’s miles away. And even if the distance problem could be solved, she’d block my ass if I ever thought about telling her.”

Niall flashed Harry a sympathetic smile. He knew that her friend really did like Louis. And while having a crush on someone who lived in a different country wasn’t ideal, he wanted her friend to be happy.

Niall also knew she could be happy with Louis. It was a sort of intuition he had when Harry first began telling her about the American girl who happened to be her mysterious writer. The way they’d met had to be one of the most incredible things Niall had ever heard of. If that wasn’t a sign that they were meant to be, Niall didn’t know what would.

“Do you really think that she would block you?” Niall didn’t even give her time to answer. “I think it’s way too obvious that she’s into you. She uses any excuse she can to flirt with you. You’re just too oblivious to notice. Maybe going out with Paul erased your flirting detection skills.”

Harry rolled her eyes. “Don’t mention that piece of shit. He’s in the past,” she said. “I think she’s simply being nice. I don’t think it qualifies as flirting.”

It was Niall’s turn to roll his eyes. It was almost funny the way Harry refused to believe that the American girl wouldn’t ever have a crush on her. In Niall’s eyes, Harry was a sweet, beautiful smart girl. She charmed everyone easily—which was the reason why the two of them quickly became best friends when they were kids.

The truth, according to Niall, was quite easy to understand: both Harry and Louis had a embarrassing case of skinny love, in which they were too afraid of saying what they truly felt, fearing that the other would have a negative reaction.

“Sweetie, listen. She tells you you came straight out of her dreams and she even wrote you a cheesy poem. As much as I love you, I wouldn’t do that for you,” Niall said. “I wouldn’t do that for anyone.”

He has a point, Harry thought.

It was true. Louis had mentioned a few times that she’d come straight out of her dreams, and had written a poem for them that might be considered quite romantic.

(Harry screamed when she’d read the poem for the first time. She teared up, even. But Louis didn’t need to know that.)

But her sweet words and her romantic poem didn’t mean that Louis liked her in a romantic way. Harry thought that the girl’s level of liking her was simply platonic. Just friends. Gals. No homo.

“Soon enough, the two of you will be having long ass phone calls that will include the no, you hang up first thing and exchanging nudes. When that happens, you’re baking me a cake.”

Of course, Harry’s initial reaction was to simply shrug it off. There was simply no way Louis would want her in the same way she wanted Louis.

However, Harry sometimes found herself wondering if Niall’s hypothesis was correct because maybe—just maybe—he was right.

And maybe, just maybe, he was.


As the soon to be passengers began walking to board the plane, Harry began getting anxious in a good way.

She was nervous, because she’d dreamed for that moment to arrive for so long.

She had been chill the whole week, telling herself that it’d be better to be as calm as possible. But it was happening, and there was no stopping it.

Not that Harry wanted to stop it—in fact, she only wanted to fast forward to the moment she would see Louis for the first time.

Her thoughts, however, were interrupted by a message she got from Louis.

I’m already at the airport. I’m eager to see you x

Harry smiled to herself as she read the text, already aware that Louis—being her impatient, beautiful self—would go to the airport earlier than she had to just to make sure everything went perfectly well that day.

She loved that the girl was doing everything she could to assure that they had the best meeting ever. But Harry wasn’t surprised that Louis was willing to do such a thing for her. Since the beginning, Louis had done everything possible to make Harry feel comfortable.

As she thought about Louis, her mind drifted back to every moment they had shared—every laugh, every tear, every conversation.


But, more precisely, Harry’s mind went back to that night in which everything suddenly changed—also known as the night she found out that Louis liked her back.


It was completely unexpected—at least, it was for Harry.

Both Harry and Louis had become even closer throughout the months, and they shared practically everything of each other’s lives—such as pictures, audios, and cute things that reminded one of the other. But they didn’t only share nice moments. They turned to one another when either of them wanted to get something off of their chests—anything that bothered or hurt them in any way.

I love you and I wish I could meet you were among their most used and exchanged phrases through messages and voice notes. But while Harry completely meant those words in an I love you in a very gay way, she was still uncertain as regards which way Louis loved her.

But, mainly due to the conversations she’d had with Niall throughout the last months, Harry began to suspect that maybe Louis liked her in the same way Harry did.

It started out with small things—certain phrases, certain words, certain gestures.

The doubt continued arising within Harry whenever Louis said things as if I liked someone, I wouldn’t tell them, because what if they get mad at me and I lose them? It made Harry wonder if Louis was simply speaking in general, or if she had someone else in mind—someone that might be Harry herself.

But one particular October night, Harry felt bold enough to ask.

She still didn’t know how she’d gathered the courage to ask that out loud. She also didn’t know how Louis had the courage to say what she truly felt about her. But maybe, just maybe, it was meant to happen that way.

They were in a phone call, speaking about both everything and nothing when the conversation turned cheesy as fuck —in Niall’s words—again.

“You know that you mean a lot to me, don’t you?” Louis said through the phone.

No, I don’t really know.

“I do. And you do mean a lot to me, too.”

It kind of hurt Harry to say those things out loud when she thought—and knew, even if she suspected otherwise—that Louis wouldn’t ever see her as more than a friend. But Louis’ friendship was more than she could ever deserve. She didn’t want to risk losing someone as special as Louis was.

“You seriously came straight out of my dreams,” Louis said, making Harry’s heart flutter within her chest. “You’ve been there for me all this time, even when I was going through shit.”

“You’ll always have me. You know that.”


How in the world could someone not promise Louis such a thing? It was something that Harry wouldn’t ever understand.

“I promise.”

“I love you. Way more than you think.”

Harry was silent for a moment. It wasn’t the first time that Louis had said those three words out loud. But there was something within her that was begging to ask that question—the question she’d always wanted to ask, but was too afraid to.

“In what way?”

There was silence on the other side.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Five seconds of pure silence.

Harry was more than ready to hang up, get under the blankets, curl up into a ball and hide for the rest of her life—or until the following morning, when she would call Niall to talk about the biggest fuck-up of her life.

The biggest fuck-up of my life. That’s a good title for my future biography, she thought.

She was busy regretting her question when she heard Louis’ raspy, soft voice through the phone.

And, in a heartbeat, all her regrets were gone.

“I love you in the I’d date the shit out of you way.”

Harry stayed silent, as if trying to process what she had just heard.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Again, another five seconds of pure silence. Five seconds of silence in which a huge smile had appeared on Harry’s face, making her feel that her level of happiness had never been so high before.

“That’s good,” Harry said, and paused for a brief second, the smile never fading away from her lips, “because I love you in that way, too.”

Silence, again, preceded a burst of laughter that came from both Louis and Harry, along with tears that were both of happiness and relief.

It turned out that Niall had been right all along: the two of them had been literally in love, but too afraid to say it out loud.

That was why, when Niall came over to her place the next day, Harry baked him a cake while hearing his I told you so’s and you two are sappy as hell. He deserved it.

And maybe, just maybe, Harry baked Niall another cake when they exchanged nudes for the first time.

But the reason behind that baking session was only for Harry to know.


Coming out hadn’t been part of Harry’s plan. But, as most things in life, it happened unexpectedly.

It was easier than she had expected—at least, when it came to telling her mum.

However, it wasn’t that she wanted to tell her. It simply happened that, when her father went to visit Harry and was invited into her house, the three of them began having a conversation together. It wasn’t usual, considering that they were separated and that, most times, they couldn’t stand each other. But sometimes, for the sake of acting, they simply pretended to get on well and enjoy the other’s company.

A simple question was the trigger of the series of answers which, eventually, led to her coming out: you still don’t have a boyfriend?

Even though Harry identified herself as bisexual, she wasn’t comfortable answering the boyfriend question. Everyone expected her to have one—and was seen as weird for not having one.

One thing led to another, and Harry ended up spilling it all out: about her sexuality. About what she was. About Louis.

Anne, to Harry’s surprise, didn’t seem shocked to hear any of that. She had always known . To her mother, as long as her daughter was happy, nothing else mattered. And that meant the world to Harry.

(Only a year later did Harry find out—via Niall, of course—that her mother had asked him whether he knew if Harry was a lesbian. She wasn’t quite right, but she was close.)

Her father, however, was another story.

Desmond’s accepting attitude had been influenced by Anne’s presence. But although Harry wanted to believe that he was fine with it, she knew her father better.

His negativity was something that Harry was used to. Throughout her life, the girl had learnt to ignore her father’s comments on anything that regarded herself—her appearance, her personality, her likes and dislikes.

Still, nothing prepared Harry for what happened next.


Getting to finally meet was something that both Harry and Louis wanted. A lot.

It was something that they had been talking about a lot, too.

The idea had occurred to Harry one January night—a year after having found each other in that website. She didn’t know what had triggered it. But, as months went by, she eventually came to the conclusion that the need to meet Louis and be with her got stronger—and even more intense—each day that passed.

It was the only thing she wanted—she only thing that she could possibly talk about.

So, when Harry mentioned that she’d be willing to spend her birthday savings on a ticket plane to meet her, Louis couldn’t have been happier.

And Harry couldn’t have been happier that Louis seemed to be willing to meet her.

Anne, once again, supported Harry’s idea. Her mother seemed to understand that the trip meant the world to both Harry and Louis, and as long as her daughter was happy, she would make sure that she made her dreams come true.

It was almost settled. They had even thought about possible dates to meet, and the only thing left to do was buying the ticket.

That, and telling her father.

Harry wasn’t expecting her father to fully pay the ticket for her—she wanted to do that herself. She only wanted the love and support she had never had from him when it came to doing things that she liked. And, although his reaction had been suspicious from the beginning, Harry had hoped for a positive response.

But since Harry was alone when she cited Desmond to talk, his reaction was way different than the one he’d shown in front of Anne.

The thing was that Harry should’ve known better. She should’ve known that he would never understand. She should’ve known that she would never be able to count on him to do something that she really wanted.

And she should’ve known that he would say something along the lines of I’ll do the impossible to make sure you don’t get into that plane.


The whole meeting idea, thus, was postponed.

Harry knew that she’d made a huge mistake by telling her father about her plans to meet Louis. But even though thinking about buying plane tickets would have to wait for a while, she knew it was something that would happen sooner or later.

In the meantime, there were other things they would be able to do for each other.

Louis was the one who came up with the idea. Since their birthdays would be coming soon, she suggested sending Harry a box full of presents.

And she did send it.

Although it took a while to arrive—and although Harry had to wait three hours in the post office to retrieve her gifts—it was worth it. Louis was completely worth it.

The gifts, as Harry was expecting, were special. Louis had made sure to get the things that Harry liked—such as her favourite movie and chocolates, mixtapes, a stuffed animal, and a vinyl of one of her favourite singers. But the thing that she liked the most about the gifts was that Louis had poured her love for Harry in them. She could feel Louis’ love for her in each of the letters she wrote to her. She could feel her love when she saw a jar filled with handwritten papers that contained a hundred reasons why Louis loved her.

Harry felt Louis’ love through and through and she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done to deserve her.

(As a way of thanking Louis for her unconditional love, Harry sent her two boxes full of gifts, along with two letters. And, as soon as the boxes were delivered to Louis’ home, Harry received an audio of Louis crying while opening her gifts).


It was July when the whole travelling thing was brought back again—this time, by Harry’s mother.

Anne knew from the beginning that Harry was heartbroken to postpone the trip to Florida—even if she was completely aware that postponing it temporarily was the only choice they had at that moment.

Although Harry thought about finally meeting Louis every day, it wasn’t something that she daily talked about with her mother. It was something that the two of them just knew, but didn’t feel the need of bringing up the topic every time.

But one night during dinner, Anne was busy with her phone. Even though Harry was used to being ignored while they were eating together, it made her curious to know what she was doing on her phone.

“What’s got you so busy? Candy Crush?” Harry asked. She knew about her mother’s obsession with the game—she could spend hours playing that.

However, Anne shook her head.

“I was checking something out.”

Her mystery made Harry wonder what could it be. Anne did that quite often: she wanted to be secretive, but she eventually ended up spilling it all to Harry.

She knew that night wouldn’t be the exception—she knew her mother quite well.

“What is it?”

Anne stayed silent for a few seconds, but eventually looked up to meet Harry’s eyes. There was a hint of a smile on her lips that, even though Anne was attempting to hide it, was quite noticeable for Harry.

“I’m checking out plane tickets.”

Harry didn’t even need to ask what the plane tickets were for. There was something in her mother’s eyes that let Harry know exactly what was the destination that she was looking for. Harry’s eyes were filled with tears, but even though she couldn’t utter a word in that moment, she was grateful.

She truly was.


It was August when Harry finally got the plane ticket to meet Louis.

Anne’s partner—Robin—agreed to lend her a credit card to purchase the tickets. But it wasn’t that simple—they wanted to look for prices and dates that would suit Harry the most.

And, of course, that required patience.

Harry—who wasn’t a very patient person—did her best to wait. At least, both she and Louis knew that she would have the tickets soon, and that the official countdown to meet would start eventually.

Harry remembered that day perfectly well: it hadn’t been a good day—mostly because of college—and the only thing she wanted was to go home, maybe take a warm shower, and sleep her worries away for the rest of the day.

She had done the first two things. However, when she grabbed her phone to check her messages, she finally received the news that made her day better.

It was a screenshot that Robin had sent her, which contained the details of her flight.

You’d better start getting ready, it read.

Needless to say, Harry was quick to send Louis a text, telling her about the official date in which they would meet for the first time.

January 3, 2019.

And, needless to say, Louis was quick to send a screenshot of the countdown app that she had downloaded a few days before.

149 days to meet my favourite person in the whole world.


Every day that passed meant that it was one day less to finally meet Louis—to see her, to hold her, to be held by her, to kiss her.

To be with her.

Waiting hadn’t been easy. Sometimes, Harry thought that day was too far away and that it would never come. At least, Harry had the relief to know that she had something to look forward to. She had something that gave her hope—something and someone worth waiting for.

But, as they waited for the day to arrive, numerous conversations about many topics arose.

Interesting topics, Harry would say.

Among those interesting topics, Harry would say that sex was the one that both caught their  attention the most. They had both agreed that it was something that the two of them wanted—and, although probably obvious, there had been many instances of sexting throughout those months.

However, the topic the two of them had been thinking about—but hadn’t mentioned it until then—eventually arose: BDSM.

It was expected that the two of them would discuss that at some point, and Harry was glad that the conversation occurred. It was all about getting to know each other in different ways—and sex was definitely one of them. It wasn’t surprising for Harry, also, to find out that the two of them liked the same things. They had a lot of things in common, and being compatible when it came to sex was sort of expected—since they were compatible when it came to most things. They had, moreover, talked about getting stuff to make their nights more fun.

But there was something that Harry hadn’t expected.

Louis had bought a rope. A baby pink rope.

Now I can tie you up and fuck you like the slut you are, Louis had sent her.

Harry couldn’t wait for that.



The day before going to the airport, Harry was nervous.

Harry knew that Louis was both nervous and anxious, too, which made her hide her true feelings about the whole situation. She wanted Louis to be calm and to know that everything would be fine—because she knew it would be that way.

At least, that was what Harry wanted to believe.

Her things were—mostly—packed. She had already picked her airport outfit days ago, and it was waiting on her chair to be worn the following day. She had, also, made sure to pack all the gifts for Louis, her parents and siblings.

(She was sort of, kind of, nervous about the gifts she’d got them. But, compared to all her worries, it seemed to be the least thing she was nervous about at that moment.)

Harry knew that her heart was about to burst out of her chest. She couldn’t quite explain the way that she was feeling, because nothing could compare to being about to meet her favourite person in the whole world.

But even though she was certain about Louis’ feelings for her, Harry was still afraid to meet a possible rejection or disappointment from the girl’s part.

What if I’m not what Louis is expecting? What if Louis changes her mind about her feelings as soon as she meets me? What if Louis won’t want to talk to me ever again?

What if. What if. What if.

Harry was aware that asking herself what if a few hours before her flight wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but it was impossible to stop. She really wanted to be with Louis, and wanted to be what she expected. She wanted to be with the girl, to be in her arms, and to tell her how much she loved her.

She had always heard that if you truly wish for something to come true, the universe would conspire to let it happen.

What Harry truly wanted was to be Louis’, and for Louis to be hers—as simple as that.

And, when she went to sleep that night, she had the feeling that it would be that way.

It would.


With a shaky sigh, Harry followed the passengers to the plane.

Her seat was in one of the last rows. While it wasn’t hard to find it, it made her anxious to walk all the way to the back—and she knew it would make her even more anxious to wait for the rest to exit the plane before she did when it eventually landed.

Even though the flight was supposed to be two hours and something long, Harry felt as if it had lasted around twelve hours. Her plans to nap during the flight were quickly discarded—her mind only revolved around Louis, and couldn’t even force herself to drift off to sleep.

However, when Harry finally heard that they had arrived at Fort Lauderdale International Airport, she felt herself smiling—and her palms sweating.

She checked the time.

14:35 p.m.

Harry was aware that Louis was waiting for her. She could already picture the girl standing near the gate that corresponded to international arrivals, looking around for her.

Still, bureaucracy demanded that Harry walk toward the immigration section of the airport and pick her luggage up before even thinking about finding the exit to see Louis.

That took a while and, needless to say, it put Harry on a bad mood. The only thing in her mind was getting to meet Louis, and she didn’t want to be wasting time with irrelevant—in fact, annoying but essential—issues.

When Harry finally had her luggage in hand and had—after what seemed ages —found the right gate that would lead her to the exit, she felt herself about to faint.

She was only seconds away from meeting Louis.

From touching her.

From holding her.

From being with her.

Harry felt, for a moment, that there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air. She felt everything spinning around, even though she was completely aware that it was only her mind playing tricks with her.

But when she walked out the door and saw a beautiful, blue eyed brunette with pink, dip-dyed hair run towards her while screaming, Harry forgot about all her concerns and worries.

Harry’s instinct was to drop her luggage to the floor, not really in the state of mind to consider the possibility of anything breaking, and let herself run to Louis.

Nothing mattered in that moment, because she was finally there.

Louis was there.

And when Louis wrapped her arms around her for the first time ever and held her tightly against her chest, Harry had an epiphany.

Although it was their first time meeting and hugging, it felt that they had been together for ages. That was something that—at least Harry—didn’t feel with most people, not even with the ones she’d known for years.

But that was different, because Louis was different from anyone she’d ever met before.

To Harry, that only had one possible explanation: Harry had found her soulmate for life, and she would keep her forever.

Or, for as long as Louis may have her.