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A lanky boy, maybe fourteen or fifteen stood down my row. I saw him, and almost wanted to say hello, but never even thought to get up from my seat, and the music didn't matter anymore. The Script sounded radio-like, even live and in front of me, but my eyes kept moving to the young teenage boy, exactly 12 seats down. He was into the music, as I could tell, as his eyes were closed and he was swaying and waving his arms around and laughing with the girl to his side, his curly hair bouncing along with him. She looked a bit older than he did, maybe my age, but she was mirroring his movements like it was choreographed.

The music was just a fadeout when I got up in the middle. "Too much water, not enough space," I'd said to my friend, Stan, who laughed awkwardly and smiled, letting me through. I ran out to the corridor so I could make the literal quickest pit-stop of my life. I tried to make it quick, I actually tried, but when I heard a door open behind me, I looked up in the mirror in front of me, and I saw a head of curls walking to the urinal next to mine.

He was rushing, and I could hear him muttering something under his breath, and I chuckled. In turn, I got a splash to the leg.

"Oops!" The boy said. I looked down at my pants which had a dribble of piss on the side. I laughed again, and looked at his apologetic face. "Sorry. You scared me!"

I said the only thing I could think of, "Hi," then I smiled at him. He smiled back, but then gestured to my leg with a look of disgust. "That? Oh, no. Pee dries. It'll be okay."

The boy zipped up and looked back over almost cautiously. "I'm still sorry."

"It's nice to meet you, Sorry. I'm Louis." I held my hand out for a shake, and he looked at it weirdly.

"Shouldn't you wash your hands, first?"

I retracted my hand and looked down. "Right. Good idea."

I kept looking over at him as we washed our hands in silence. He looked nerdy in that adorable way that just makes you want to hug someone, and his dimples were as deep as a kiddie pool when he smiled. "Why do you keep looking at me?"

"I like your hair, Curly. What's your real name, by the way." I'll admit that I panicked with this answer, but this was my smoothest cover at the moment.

Luckily, he answered, or else I might have died right there. "It's Harry. Harry Styles." I actually might have died, anyways.

I pushed my glasses further up my nose and giggled. "You actually just James Bond-ed me with that rock-star-worthy name."

"I get that a lot."

Then we were both laughing. So much for a short bathroom run, right?

"Do you have a cell phone?" My eyes popped out of my head. Did I seriously just say that?

Harry smiled and reached into his pocket.

Be cool be cool be fucking cool. I reached for my own phone, which I was pretty proud of, for it was a Blackberry that I had paid for on my own. I couldn't help but be glad that my phone was at least mediocre when he pulled out his iPhone. We switched phones and typed in our numbers and took pictures of ourselves and switched back.

"So, you'll text me later?" he asked me, eyebrow raised the slightest and it just made my heart melt that he was trying to be cheeky...and succeeding.

I tried to keep my poker face in tact when I answered, "I guess so."

Then, we went our separate ways, and I could barely stop smiling for the rest of the night. Stan, of course, was curious as to why I was in the bathroom for so long. I told him an unbelievable lie that I improvised on the spot that I couldn't find it at first, and I had walked the wrong way to get back. I was so lucky that Stan was too gullible to be friends with such an amazing liar such as me.

That night, I slept with my phone on vibrate under my pillow, just waiting for a text, and around three in the morning, I got it. My phone's vibrations were almost completely passed by under my sleeping head, but with the faintest buzz, my eyes sprung open, and I smiled when I read the words off of the blindingly bright screen.

Procrastinating, or just thought I would text you first? xx. H

I don't think I had ever smiled wider at three in the morning before then.