summit ✽ h.s

o n e

yay first chapter woooot!!! hope u guys like it!

I type the last few words on my phone to my boyfriend, promising that he can take me to lunch after my hike. He responds something cheesy, which makes me smile. I bite my lip, still smiling and change into my workout clothes. I put my phone into my pocket and slip on some running shoes then head out the door.

I start running up the mountain at a pretty slow pace. I stop a couple times and take pictures of the scenery, but mainly just run. I eventually make it to the top, and decide I can take a break.

I take a seat on the bench, sipping on my water. I try not to drink too much, avoiding cramps, but my panting and sweat is convincing me to do otherwise. I take a minute to look around me and enjoy the scenery and the peacefulness of the mountain. I don't hike too often, and usually it's not this beautiful up here. Minus the mini panic attacks I have everytime I see a spider, I'm easily enjoying my time up here. It gives me an hour or so to clear my mind and I burn some calories while I'm at it.

I decide to get back up, but walk instead of running. I'm walking particularly slow, trying not to beat myself up again in the California sun. I hear faint footsteps behind me, but to be honest I don't have enough energy to look and see who it is. Sometimes when I take walks I like to imagine the lives of the people I see. It's pretty creepy I guess to some other people, but I enjoy making up little stories. For example, the bald man with a very hairy chest that passed me a few minutes ago has four daughters but has always wanted a son. He's got a crappy job at some little company, but wishes he had the chance to coach his hypothetical son's' little league games.

The footsteps become louder, but I continue to walk at my slow pace.

"Excuse me" A deep husky voice says from behind me. I move to my right without looking behind me, which is stupid because he's on the right. Before I realize what just happened, I'm on the rocky ground with a scraped knee.

"I'm so sorry, are you alright?" The voice asks. I now hear the accent in his voice and the raspiness of it, which suggests that he either hasn't had much sleep or he hasn't talked to anyone for a while.

"Yeah I'm fine." I reply, trying to get up. The man offers me a hand, and I take it. His very strong arm pulls me up quickly, and I look down at my knee.

"You sure you're okay? Looks like a pretty nasty cut." He says, looking down at my cut. I pick a tiny pebble off of my skin, throwing it to the ground. I look up at the man who knocked me down, and he looks very familiar.

"Don't worry about it. I can find a bandaid somewhere." I smile, meeting his eyes. They're a gorgeous emerald green, and it suddenly hits me. This is one of the members of One Direction, Harry, I think. My younger sister is absolutely obsessed with One Direction, she cried for days when Zayn left.

"You're Harry, right?" I ask, blanking out on his last name. He sighs and nods his head. I guess he doesn't like to be recognized, but I don't blame him. It must suck being constantly in the spotlight.

"Yes, I am." He smiles. I examine him further, and notice the camera that's hanging around his neck.

"Do you like photography?" I ask, steering away from the awkward tension of his being a super famous celebrity. His eyes light up and his grin gets a little wider when I ask him.

"I love it." He responds, looking down at his camera, then back at me.

"Are you up here to take pictures?" I ask, dumfounded. That's obviously why he's up here. I've asked him way too many questions in the last thirty seconds.