No Matter What // Harry Styles AU -- Dunkirk inspired

Chapter Twenty Three

Our bike ride home feels like an eternity, delicately wrapped up into a tiny, brief instant. And yet, while I cling to this breathtaking moment almost as tightly as I cling to the handlebars, my urge to get home increases with every passing second. The dread of being discovered by Gran and Grandfather gnaws at my stomach, pulling slowly at the seams of my enchanted evening. 

How could I have been so reckless? So thoughtless?

A tall drink of water, that's how, my mind reminds me. 

I almost laugh, but as the bike reaches the final road, my mind races faster than the wind. Thoughts of being scolded, judged, or worse- sent back to America, cause my pulse to quicken in panic. Shuddering, my body shakes the bike slightly as we come into the shadow of the large estate. Harry's strong arms keep us steady, luckily. 

Ah, to hell with it! I sigh. Send me to the moon tomorrow with nothing but a pair of shoes, it'll still be worth having tonight.

Just as I resolve to leave England the happiest girl alive, Harry leans forward slightly, whispering in my ear, "Alright, careful now." 

His deep voice eases my fluttering senses almost as much as the image of the large house blanketed by darkness.

Harry brings the bike to a gradual stop and I'm thrust forward. But, with a little hop and a couple of skips, I successfully avoid landing flat on my face. My eyes immediately fly up towards the house that peacefully sleeps, tucked away into the English countryside. There's not a single sign that anyone is awake or aware of my mischievous adventure.

"Looks like you're a proper professional," he says with a grin. 

He rests his folded arms across his body, relishing the clear hold he has over me. A cool breeze rushes around us and nearly knocks the bike over. Harry stumbles forward to keep it from falling and I can't help but giggle at how he nervously tries to recover.

"Here," I chuckle, slipping off his warm coat. "You must be freezing."

"Ah, no, Roses. Keep it on." 

I narrow my eyes at him, annoyed that he is going to get ill from insisting on being a gentleman. "Don't be silly, Harry." 

"What?" he chuckles deviously. "It looks better on you." 

Harry swipes his thumb across his lip, pulling at it slightly to hide his flirtatious grin, but it only makes his devilish smirk more inviting. I walk up to him slowly, the excitement of the night fueling my courage. 

"I don't care how handsome you are," I whisper, playfully pushing his coat into his hands. "You still can't make pneumonia look good." 

"You're a wicked woman," he says, his green eyes alight with humor.

Without breaking our gaze, I challenge, "You're a fool, Mr. Stylrd."

"You take that back." 

"Never," I defiantly smile. 

Tossing his coat aside, Harry scampers after me with his own impish grin. Squealing, I swing open the gate and run behind the house into Gran's large garden. I dash behind a row of hedges, but Harry catches up to me.

"Gotcha!" Harry's hand swoops around my back, but our feet tangle together. Our bodies crash towards the ground, only it isn't the dewey grass that I land on. Instead, I fall right on top of Harry as he lands on his back. 

For a split second, neither one of us says anything. Harry looks just as shocked as I feel, but while his face settles into a grin, my cheeks burn with embarrassment.