a/n: her outfit ^^
* * *
With one last swipe of red lipstick, I'm ready to leave on my date with Harry. He told me he had the whole date planned out, it is somewhere he saw on one of his driving adventures. I hate surprises, so it was a little hard for me to not force him to tell me where we were going. But, I was able to contain myself and wait a few hours.
"Lili, what's w-" Harry's voice chimes from my bedroom, just in time.
I swing the bathroom door open, revealing Harryâdressed up for our date, wearing a white tee with light khaki-colored pants. Harry stops in his tracks the moment his eyes land on me, his mouth opening slightly.
"Honey, you look..." He takes a moment to observe my outfit a little more, giving it one last look over. My cheeks burn hot, just as they always do anytime he looks at me this way; so intently. "Good fucking lord," he says under his breath, inhaling sharply.
"What was your question?" I ask, changing the subject.
I await his response, smiling awkwardly. And after a moment he finally shakes his head, getting rid of any of the thoughts he had racing his mind, preparing to talk to me again.
"Hm?" he hums, looking back up at my eyes. "What question?"
"When you first came in here, you were asking something," I explain to him to spark his memory. "You were asking me what something was."
"Oh, right," he says, his memory finally clicking. "Well, I was talking to Jess downstairs and somehow the conversation led to talking about how you two used to be fans of the band and whatnot." He swallows, preparing in his for his next words. "She told me you used to send 'Whatsapp stories' back and forth, reminiscing on the things you read I guess. What's a Whatsapp story?"
My heart quite literally dropped out of my ass and onto the bathroom floor. Jess wasn't telling him about 'Whatsapp stories'. I don't even think that's a real thing.
She was telling him about Wattpad stories.
"Harry," I say nervously, "what did Jess tell you?"
"She wouldn't tell me anything else." His brows furrow, looking confused. "She told me to ask you about it. At least I think that's what she said... she wouldn't stop laughing."
"Oh my god," I say, short of breath and feeling woozy.
"What?" he asks worriedly, reaching out to grab my arm as if I was about to actually fall. "What is it?"
"You don't wanna know," I shake my head vigorously, my eyes bulging out of my head.
"Yikes, maybe I don't," he says, his eyes widening also.
"Anyways," I chime, desperate to change the subject to absolutely anything else, "are you ready for our date?"
"Yeah," he says simply, "I would have asked you, but I don't want you to take that as me saying you don't look ready, which you do, of course, y-you look beautiful, I'm just saying I..." He pauses to let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"
"Just a tad." I giggle, thinking his little rambling seshes were adorable.
For a man who speaks slower than a sloth in the regular, he sure can whip up a tornado of words when he gets nervous. I didn't mind though, I still thought it was cute.
"Sorry," he apologizes. He clears his throat, bringing his ringed finger up to cover his mouth as he does so. "Should we get going? I've made reservations for 7."
As he brings his hand back down to his side, something catches my eye. I quickly grab his hand but made sure to not be too harsh so I don't rip his shoulder out of its socket. He has a confused look on his face as I inspect his fingers, and then I notice his index finger.
He had a new ring on, or maybe it was just one I'd never noticed before.
"Is that a new ring?" I ask with a smile, running my finger over the expensive jewelry.
"Uh, yeah it is," Harry says sheepishly, blushing as he looks down at it, "I, um, lost my rose ring at an Ariana Grande concert last August and never found it. I was a little torn, so I decided to just buy a new one to make myself feel betterânot like I don't have enough already." He chuckles softly.
"That's ironic... losing a ring at an Ariana Grande concert. I guess you're down to 6 rings now," I joke, forcing back giggles.
Harry doesn't say anything in response, so I wasn't sure if he got the joke or not.
"Breakfast at Tiffany's and bottles..."
"Nope," Harry stops me before I could finish the song. He shuts his eyes and shakes his head slowly, obviously disappointed with my joke. I couldn't help but laugh.
At least I thought I was funny.
"Okay," I calm my laughter. "How come I've never noticed this one?" I furrow my eyebrows, very confused.
He took them off every night, setting them on the nightstand on his side of my bed. And he never failed to put them back on in the morning, even if he didn't plan on getting ready for the day. I was sure I had known the rings he wore on a daily by now. There were his two initials, his dancing bears ring, the one with the ruby in the middle, the peace ring, the gold square one, and then the plain gold band.
But this one I had never seen.
"I'm not sure," he says cluelessly, shrugging.
"Well, I love it," I tell him truthfully. I did, I really loved it.
"You do now?" He asks an amused smirk playing on his lips.
"I do," I say with a nod.
Harry removes his hand from mine and travels it up to my hair instead, tucking a loose strand behind my ear, the devilish smirk still apparent. "I bet you'd love it more if-"
A knock on my bedroom door cuts Harry off, his eyes widening. Within a matter of seconds, the door swings open, Jess barging in with her eye squinted shut.
"Put your clothes back on, I'm comin' in!" she announces, navigating her way around by holding her hands out in front of her.
"Jess," I sigh, "we're both fully clothed. You're fine."
She opens her eyes, a bright, happy smile on her face. Her eyes then land on me, her jaw-dropping.
"Damn bitch," she says, drawing out her words. "My best friend is one sexy mother fucker!"
Harry turns away from her to face me, nodding in agreement. "I mean, she's not wrong."
"Jess." I shut my eyes. "Have you been drinking?"
"Only a little," she says, winking.
Jess's version of a "little" drinking would be the drunkest I had ever gotten. I'm a social drinker, and even then it's barely anything. One drink and I'm done.
"Oh goodie," I say, knowing that her filter was now completely gone, not just minimal.
"You know, when y'all are fuckin' in here after your little date tonight," Jess says out of the blue, my cheeks heating up like no other. "Please warn me so I don't have to hear 'Oh, Harry!' 'Faster please!'" She moans, and I take this as my cue to escort her out, so she wouldn't embarrass Harry and me anymore.
"Alright, Jess," I say, rushing over to her and grabbing him by the arm. I lead her towards the door and her face twists on confusion.
"Wait, what did I do?" She asks as we walking through the doorframe.
* * *
"M'lady," Harry says in a posh accent after opening my car door for me, gesturing for me to get out by extending out his arm.
"Thank you, kind sir," I say back, smiling.
I get out of Harry's rental car and he shuts the door behind me. We stand in the employee parking lot in the back of a restaurant whose identity was still classified.
Harry takes ahold of my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine, leading me toward the entrance of the buildingâa large, dark gray iron door.
"I'm sorry we have to go in through the back entrance." He sighs, looking at the ground.
"Don't apologize. It's different, I feel exclusive."
"I know it's different for you I just..." He sighs once again. "I just wish I could take you out on a normal date. I just wish we could date normally. I wish we could be open about our relationship with no backlash and we could just be...normal."
"But it's hard to be normal when you're not," I mumble.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're Harry Styles. A legend. A god in some eyesâmy own included. You have the ability to do things most people can't, and then you do things most people are too afraid to do. You're not normal. You should be proud of who you are, I know I am."
"Thanks, but...I just feel like...sometimes...I want to be normal. It's not that I'd ever give anything I have up, I just want to be able to live my life. I mean, I'm just Harry."
"Do you not think you deserve it?"
"I mean, there are so many people out there who deserve it more than I do. They're so far superior to me musically that I just feel lucky to be where I am," he explains, spilling his heart out in the middle of this parking lot. "It just makes me wonder why I was chosen over them, you know? Why was I given such luck and they weren't?"
"You didn't just get lucky, Harry," I tell him. "You deserve everything you've receivedâthe recognition, the money, all of it. You're doing what you love and you've worked hard to get where you are. I don't call that luck, I call that success."
By now, we had reached the door of the building. Instead of responding to my short speech, Harry reaches up to knock on the door.
After a few seconds, it swings open, revealing a chubbier, older man wearing a white chef's coat. He smiles, his white and gray mustache turning upward along with.
"Harry?" He asks.
"That would be me," Harry confirms and the man steps out of the way, gesturing for us to step inside.
Harry's hand moves to the small of my back, gently leading me first into the restaurant, following closely behind. Inside I am greeted by a young woman with dark hair, wearing a black outfit.
"If you both would follow me, we'll get you two seated," she says and we do so.
As we walk, Harry gets closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder briefly.
"I hope you like Italian," he whispers into my ear.
* * *