Every day Harry goes jogging, and every day he runs into her.

He recently moved to Hidden Hills in Los Angeles County, California — a quiet place where he feels more normal than famous, mainly because most of his neighbors are just as famous, if not more, than he is.

He likes that it feels like a town within a larger city. He can go about his business without constantly feeling watched — especially now that he’s wrapping up his world tour and living under a microscope, feeling like he hasn’t had real privacy in months.

So to release stress and boost his dopamine, Harry jogs almost every day around Hidden Hills. Most days he’s shirtless, wearing shorts, a backwards cap, and his sunglasses.

And every time he goes out, he runs into her.

At first, Harry only saw her as the neighbor he happened to cross paths with during their morning runs. A young woman, maybe one or two years younger than him, clearly in good shape.

At the beginning, they would just smile at each other as they passed and keep running.

But Harry started noticing her more.

The way her hair fell when she moved. Her workout sets. How she sometimes chewed gum while running. The confidence in the way she carried herself.

How beautiful she was.

That Friday morning, he was jogging — sweat covering his body, an unzipped hoodie hanging open to reveal his chest and tattoos, his cap slightly lifted, sunglasses hiding his eyes.

That’s when he stopped abruptly.

The moment she ran past him and gave him a quick greeting.

He doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know where it came from.

But Harry finally gathered the nerve to approach her and stop her.

Even without knowing her name.

“Hey, wait!”