Events || Harry Styles

017

Follow me on Twitter (@wtvrharold), and don't be afraid to tweet me 😉💖 Thank you for getting Events to #74 in fanfiction! This story hasn't even scratched the surface of what's to come!

//Words can't describe the happiness I feel knowing Harry is homeee.

PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR's NOTE AT THE END. IT'S IMPORTANT.

Norah

"No, no, no. You don't get to change the subject," I objected.

I heard him scoff, and he gave a slight roll of his eyes like the bomb he just dropped meant nothing more than today's weather in London.

I kept my eyebrows raised, waiting for some explanation.

Harry liked me? That sounded like the joke of the century! He had to have been just playing around.

He tucked his lips into his mouth. His head was tilted slightly downwards, causing him to have to look up at me through his dark lashes. His eyes were hypnotic and I almost forgot that I had to be railing him with the many questions I had that he'd yet to answer.

"Harry," I repeated.

He tilted his head to the side and back, but still had his eyes trained on me. "Yes?"

I leaned my head forward expectantly. Come on...grace me with your wisdom, Harry.

"What else is there to say?" He insisted, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"How about start with what the fuck you mean?" I implored.

He leaned forward and pulled in the leg that had been touching my hip.

"You're nice...smart. You make me laugh my ass off. I feel completely comfortable around you and I feel that I can say what I want to you without you looking at me a different way. On top of all of that, you're insanely beautiful."

Wow. Am I Norah Gates right now or a fucking tomato?

After a few seconds of silence, he spoke again.

"I understand if your feelings lie with Liam Payne..." He teased and held out his hands in front of him. He had a wicked smile on his face. His accent, combined with how his lips formed his words, was honestly so taunting and sexually frustrating.

"Shut the fuck up," I laughed, lightly hitting down his outstretched hands. I didn't miss the fact that they were incredibly warm compared to the below freezing temperatures outside.

Except instead of just allowing me to hit away his hands, his fingers clenched around my hands, holding them.

My breathing seemed to stop as I just stared at him. His composure was relaxed and sure. His gaze lingered around my face. He seemed to be memorizing every freckle and scar that could be found. I'd be lying if I said I didn't start to become a little bit self conscious.

"Harry?" I spoke. He blinked and gradually let go of my hands. I retreated them back into my lap.

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure?"

His face contorted in confusion. "Of what?"

"Of your feelings for me?"

A smirk settled on his face. He leaned back in to the couch.