99 Days. (Harry Styles) -Hold-

Prologue

Tiara Parkes saw her boyfriend’s tall, lean body silhouetted against the sunset and began to climb up towards him.

The sky looked like it was on fire, covered with violent strokes of reds and oranges and purples. It was the sort of wild beauty that made Tia feel lucky to be alive.

Harry held out his hand to pull her up the last few steps. The hill was steep, and she was tired.

‘Thanks, Styles.’ Tiara looked into his eyes, and the dancing, flashing green in them made the sky look like a black and white movie.

‘You’re welcome, Parkes.’

The two smiled at each other for a moment, Tiara getting her breath back after her half-jog up the hill.

Suddenly she felt Harry’s soft lips on hers. She stood on her tippy toes, kissing him back. The familiar sparks flew as they kissed like there was no tomorrow.

‘You’re perfect.’ Harry mumbled in Tia’s ear as he pulled away. He caressed her cheek, his emerald eyes boring into her less enchanting brown ones.

Tiara let out a bubbling laugh. There was something funny about Harry, one of the most famous heart throbs in the world, calling her perfect. Harry, in anybody’s eyes, was perfect.

He wasn’t, however, the only perfect thing in her life. She had the perfect family. The perfect friends. The perfect house. Her parents were rich. She was a seventeen year old model. She was funny and caring and fun, as well as a straight A student.

She definitely had it all.

Harry slipped his hand into Tiara’s, whispering huskily in her ear. More often than not, he didn’t even have to finish his sentences. That’s how well the two knew each other.

They’d met when they were almost two. Their mothers had been friends, colleagues, sisters in all but blood. And from the day that the two toddlers met, they were inseparable. It sounds really cheesy and cliché, but they were like chocolate and caramel. Like salt and pepper. It was always Tiara and Harry or Harry and Tiara, never just Harry or just Tiara.

Harry had asked her out from behind a huge bouquet of white roses in Year Eight, and they had never looked back. They had the fairytale romance that young girls dreamed of and the to-die-for moments people in chick flicks have.

They were soulmates, and that was that.

‘You are perfect.’ Harry wrapped his arms around Tia, pulling her close as the night grew cool.

She laughed again, and fell back into his arms. Her eyes fluttered closed as bliss overpowered her.

‘My life is perfect, Harry. I feel like I’ll be happy forever.’

Harry kissed the top of her head, his lips lingering in her hair.

‘You will be happy forever, Tia.’

But he was wrong.

***

Welcome to a new fanfiction! Yayy! I think I can make this one work, so stick by me, okay? I know this prologue is crap, and I'll probably rewrite it later, but I owed it to my fans to upload something.

Vote if you liked it. :)

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