84 | Trapped

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August 5th

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August 5th

Harry Styles.

My leg wouldn't stop bouncing.

Why the fuck was I so nervous?

It was just her, my little daisy. There was nothing to be scared of, nothing to be nervous about. Yet, my leg had been bouncing for the last ten minutes, and my heart was beating so fast in my chest that I could feel it in my throat.

I had a full conversation with Donut about this earlier today, voicing my concerns. The annoyingly adorable little shit was a surprisingly good therapist, I got why Diana liked him so much now. He listened to me as I tried to figure out how the fuck to tie a tie. It took me at least ten really long frustrating minutes to get it right, but eventually I did. White shirt, black tie. I felt fancy, too fancy.

I was taking Diana out to dinner tonight, I owed it to her, and I had promised her that I would take her out. So that's exactly what was happening tonight.

I arrived at the Italian restaurant only about ten minutes ago, and I was waiting for her arrival. Zayn was driving her. I made sure that the restaurant had plenty of vegetarian options before hand, unlike when we were in Paris and had dinner on the Eiffel Tower, and she got served meat all night For some reason that I was unaware of, she insisted on getting ready separately, and arriving separately. I felt like I was going on a blind date with her, I had no idea what she was wearing, but I was so nervous and excited to see her.

I was excited to see her because I knew this meant a lot to her, and I was just excited to see her pretty smile for the entire night. And I was nervous, because I was so sure I was going to blurt out that I am completely madly in love with her at some point tonight. And I just don't feel ready to tell her. Not because of anything she had done. I'd admit that I was being a big fucking pussy about it, but I was too scared to tell her.

It was only a few more minutes before I saw Zayn walk into the restaurant, Diana followed shortly after him.

My heart just about stopped at the sight of her.

"Oh fuck," I murmured to myself, staring at her, feeling like I couldn't blink because I didn't want to miss a single fucking second of looking at her.

She looked fucking beautiful.

She had on a silk white gown that went down to the length of the floor. It hugged her body in all the right places, showing off her fucking magnificent figure. Her hair was curled loosely and fell down her back, stopping just at her waist, and it looked so soft, already I was dreaming about running my fingers through her hair. She had done her makeup, lightly I was sure. It wasn't dark and bold in the way she would do it when she was at the club, her eyes were a little darker, and she had eyeliner on. I felt a little sad I wasn't the one who got to do it because I actually really liked when she would let me do it for her. And the red lipstick, god I wanted to kiss those perfect red lips of hers.

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