I Carry Your Heart [Harry Styles]

Chapter 6

7 Years Ago-Harry

I haven't seen Millie in a week, not since she showed up at my house. I nearly fucked that up, ashamed that she would see the mess that is my home and father. But she was amazing and didn't care, and said something I haven't been able to stop thinking about, "We aren't our parents Harry", I hope so because neither of us were particularly lucky in that department.

I have never felt such an instant connection or draw to anyone, and had hoped to see her sooner, but she isn't supposed to leave her estate, and her parents chauffeur refused to bring her, worried Millie's parents may find out.

Eventually, the cook Kim, took pity on her and agreed to drop her off and pick her up in town, so we could spend some time together.

We agreed to meet in the Old Church Square in the centre of town, where I arrived early, excited to see her. Normally I play it cool, and girls chase me, but as hard as I try, I just can't act that way when it comes to Millie.

I lean against the wall at St Marys church, trying my hardest to be cool, calm and collected. Watching a family walk past, arguing about what they should have for lunch, I hear someone call "Harry".

I immediately spin around and am met by Millie. She looks beautiful, in simple high waisted denim shorts, a cropped white vest top showing a tiny slither of toned tummy, worn-in converse and her golden hair in two French braids.

I can't help but beam widely and utter "wow, um Millie, you look beautiful", unsure If I should hug her, but decide not to eventually.

Her cheeks flush red, as she stands, nervously fiddling with her shorts.

We stand like idiots, grinning at each other, until eventually Millie asks "So what should we do today Harry?"

"I thought we go for a walk-through town, maybe grab an ice cream and then I have someone I would like you to meet?'.

"Okay" she agrees happily.

I guide her down a small cobbled street and at first, we are a little awkward around each other, but as we walk, we start to relax and the conversation starts to flow.

We talk about books, arguing over who has read the most and some of our favourites, and after strolling past Lamb House, where author Henry James lived, I am shocked she hasn't read any of his work.

I tell her to wait outside and run into a second hand bookshop I often go to, purchasing her a well-read copy of 'The Portrait of a Lady'.

I ask the shop assistant if I can borrow a pen and quickly write on the front page.

To M

H xx