Don't Be Predictable [Harry Styles]

Don't be Predictable [Harry Styles] {02}

The whole problem with attraction is the difference in purpose; one person may want forever whilst the other wants a night, an hour, half an hour-maybe even less. What is worse is that the two are rarely the same, and there’s usually nothing that can be done to change that. Other than worthless self-delusion; analysing each little sentence, each look until you’ve convinced yourself that it meant something, anything more than what it was. This has a tendency not to help.

“Everything” Harry stated, eyes glittering, he moved even closer to me. Hands reaching up to cup my cheek, fingers rough against my throat. His face so close to mine. So close that I could count his sooty black lashes (if I ever wanted to do such a bizarre thing), his mouth just brushing against mine; casually and quickly but enough to send shivers dancing up and down my spine. “I want everything”

“Everything is an awful lot to ask for” I whispered back, after swallowing, my breathing laboured; that old peculiar feeling creeping up on me, that feeling of being on the verge of doing something dangerous, something exciting but at the same time dangerous. He looked at me then, in a way he hadn’t previously; his eyes meeting mine with an intensity I didn’t expect.

“Come with me” he said, his gaze not breaking mine.

“To a world of pure imagination?”I quipped, staring down at the floor; breaking our intense eye-contact (had he been looking for some kind of unofficial staring contest?). Joking but aware that the entire situation was like something I would imagine, something thousands of girls across the country would imagine. He continued to look at me, not answering, the corner of his mouth turned up in that half smile revealing a dimple calved into his cheek. He reached forward, his hand waiting for mine

“If you insist” he replied, teasingly, his smile infectious I couldn’t resist smiling back. I paused, considering, weighing up the risk of going with him, versus my own particular fear of being bored, or of missing out. How could I say no?

“Give me one second” I said, my mind made up, I started to turn away heading into the crowd “meet me outside in five minutes” I didn’t know if he had heard me but I headed off.

Fighting my way through the mass of dancing people I eventually spotted them, the friends I had come with (Rose and Toby). I shouted but over the music they couldn’t hear me “Rose!” I said, finally reaching the two of them.

“There you are!” bellowed Toby, grinning and wrapping an arm round my shoulders whilst simultaneously jumping up and down in time to the beat of the song-a challenge to say the least “we were getting worried, where are the drinks?”

“You ok?” asked Rose, she was more perceptive than Toby. I grinned at her, extricating myself from Toby’s grasp

“Yeah I’m fine” I shouted into her ear “just heading off, I’ll text you tomorrow!” she winked at me, accustomed to my traditional antics and nodded. I gestured towards the door so that Toby was aware I was essentially abandoning them (although I doubt Rose will still mind when I tell her why tomorrow), he mock pouted but continued to jump indicating that he would recover from the grievous blow of my absence.

Turning away I fought my way back out of the crowd, looking for the door, my heart was beating slightly erratically. Would he be there? I grabbed my jacket, cursing the distinct lack of speed from the coat girl and, stepping out into the night I looked around me. There were a few of the outcast smokers whose breath I could see in the air but other than that the street was practically deserted, I could almost feel my heart sink. I flopped back against the wall, inwardly sighing, it’s always bad to be stood up but to be stood up by Harry Styles just seems unfair.

Before depression set in a figure, clad in a long black jacket emerged from the club. I found my lips pulling themselves up into a rather unattractive grin as I watched him look around in much the same way as I had, his eyes scanning the smokers. I thrust my hands into my jacket pockets and advanced, taming my manic grim into a small smile