Matilda | Harry Styles

ONE

I raised an eyebrow, "What do you do?" After all, it was rare to waltz into a bar, looking like an off-duty rockstar, and call it work.

He glanced at me, appearing to hesitate for a moment. The silence between us caused me to tilt my head to the side, slightly, beckoning his response.

"I make music," he said, finally, his eyes appearing to search mine, almost nervously. He added, "I sing, a bit." Oh - so he was an off-duty rockstar. They were fixated on mine to the point where I felt my stomach shift once more. His eyes didn't leave my own - he was almost expecting something in response, but I wasn't sure what it was.

"That's-"

"Oh, Izzy, I thought I heard you talking out here." Johnny suddenly resurfaced through the door, peering around it, before his eyes landed on the man seated beside me. "Oh, I'm sorry, mate, I didn't hear you come in. These ears don't work like they used to," he chuckled warmly, and I turned to my left to see my company returning a smile. "What can I get you?"

"I'll just have a whiskey, please. Neat."

"Of course," Johnny nodded, heading over to the correct shelf to grab the bottle he required. It was then I realised I didn't even know my company's name, as he turned to me with an expectant look upon his face, silently offering me a drink of my own. Only moments previous, I had been certain that the most I'd be drinking was a pint of water before calling it a night. I'd had a few drinks earlier on in the night - before work had struck - but they were certainly wearing off by this point. However, with his eyes on me, I swiped upwards on my phone, closing it on the final document I was still supposed to complete.

"Make that two, please, Johnny," I turned to face him, catching a small, knowing smile spreading across his face. He, too, hadn't forgotten that I'd rejected any more drinks only a little while earlier.

Johnny poured our drinks and slid them across the counter towards us. I reached for my purse to cover them both, but a hand wrapped around my own, preventing me from doing so. Ring-clad fingers pressed against my knuckle, and I saw him, instead, pull his own wallet from his pocket, laying some cash on the counter. I couldn't even part my lips to protest, the warmth radiating from his fingers upon my skin, paired with the cool steel of the rings upon them, were clouding every thought in my head. I didn't understand the physical effect this man was having on me - this nameless, stranger of a man ought to have nowhere near the impact he did on me; but in a matter of moments, each time his eyes met my own, or they fell to my lips, I was practically at his mercy.

Johnny left the bottle on the table, free for us to refill our glasses when we desired, so that he could head into the back and continue the tasks he needed to complete. I knew that he trusted me to cover our drinks. We both thanked him, watching the back of his head disappear behind the closed door.

There was a strange familiarity in the man beside me. I felt as if I'd seen him before - I certainly hadn't met him, because there was no way I would've forgotten such a presence. There was this aura surrounding him, where it felt near impossible not to be captivated. I noticed how he occasionally dragged his hand over his chin, over the sharp line of his jaw between words, or how he pushed his hair backwards with his fingers, and turned his lips upwards.

Now we were alone again, he spoke, "Izzy." I glanced upwards from my drink, realising he had heard Johnny say my name when he had resurfaced.

"Isabella," I returned, setting my drink down, watching him take in my words. "Only Johnny really calls me Izzy."

"Isabella.." he spoke, slowly, now, almost testing the word on his tongue. My eyes almost fluttered shut at the sound of it. I'd never heard my name sound so sexy falling from somebody's lips. I wondered if, perhaps, the alcohol was still very much in my system, or perhaps it was the over-exhaustion that was drawing these feelings from me.