Vorfreude

Chapter 41

Harry sits at the end of my bed on his phone while I changed clothes. I don't know why I felt like I had to dress to par around him, but simple sweats didn't seem appeasing. When I returned, he stared at me for a second too long and I felt my heart actually skip a beat.

It was a slow-motion rom com scene as his eyes trailed up my body. It was nothing to look at especially since extra rolls of fat trailed in places that made me self-conscious. I tried pulling attention away from my mid-section by wearing a loose, flowy black top and matching black skinny jeans. I followed the outfit with a simple brown belt to draw attention to my curves because they were the only thing I was actually okay with. Wearing black made me feel like I was unseen by the world. My entire high school days consisted of me wearing black hoodies and letting my hair hang in my face to keep under the radar. For a greater moment, that's how I feel right now except I knew I was in direct center of the radar.

"You look stunning," he tells me, standing and sliding his phone into the back pocket of his skinny jeans.

"Thank you," I blush, looking down and feeling a tad bit awkward for the first time. Maybe black actually does nothing. I shake the thought and grab my booties, slipping them on as quickly as I can.

"You ready?" Harry asks, stepping back towards the door, with his eyes still glued to me.

"Yeah," I say, grabbing my purse and shoving my phone inside. I push my glasses up by face as I take in a deep breath, trying to ignore his hold.

I walk towards him and out the door without second thought.

I'm really doing this; I'm going to go hang out with Harry Styles.

Again.

****

"Do you trust me?" Harry asks, invading my thoughts as we ride alone in his car. Apparently even though he is such a main stream celebrity, being alone is a possibility. After leaving the hotel in his crowed SUV, we were dropped off at a parking garage that I learned is home to not 4 but 5 of his antique cars. Long story short, within 30 minutes, I became very educated in makes and models of classics. Especially the 1963 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing we're in now.

"Yeah, why?" I ask, completely thrown off.

He turns to me slightly, looking me up and down once again before a large smirk falters on his lips. My stomach bubbles. I feel terribly self conscious in this position, but it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would.

"Just asking."

His eyes meet the highway and I turn my blushing cheeks towards the window. I can't seem to calm my beating heart. Every time I'm around Harry, this happens.

The skyline becomes less buildings and more scenic trees and ocean. The sun is bright in the horizon and keeps growing brighter the further away from the city we get. Time is irrelevant as he continues to drive, but we remain silent as if there's a mutual agreement of tranquility and peace surrounding us. I honestly have no idea how long we've been in the car. I do know the slight awkward tension inebriates before long and I almost forget the world around me...

That is until I feel Harry's warm palm rest on the inside of my thigh.

Without thinking, my legs hinge together and trap his hand in a place that I was not expecting it to go. I feel myself instantly grow wet from his slight tough and embarrassment is clear as day on my face. His quickly pulls away, but allows his fingers to trace up the seam of my jeans in a daunting movement. I begin muttering "sorry," like a frantic 12 year old who's experienced their first kiss.

I refuse to look in his direction.

What the heck is wrong with me?

"I'm sorry, did I scare you?" His gentle accent displays. I can sense him looking at me. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have, I wasn't think-"