Matilda | Harry Styles

THIRTEEN

No. Definitely not. He was here because it was his friend's birthday; he would've come, no matter what I said. He was just a little tired, and so, had second thoughts about coming out. He would've changed his mind eventually, no matter what I said, or did. 

I caught up with the others, opting to walk beside Pauli, rather than Harry. We made our way into the taxi - I wasn't sure who had chosen tonight's location, but I figured it wasn't important. Everybody was practically buzzing, somehow seeming even more excited than they had done on our first night out, back in Vegas. 

The paparazzi were well aware of Harry's presence in Dallas, this time, and I noticed the flash of cameras before I'd even settled in the cab; taking photos from the pavements surrounding the car. Nobody seemed to even bat an eyelid, especially Harry, who casually pulled his phone from his pocket. It never failed to shock me how he was practically immune to all of this, at this point - I knew he'd been in the spotlight for many years, now, but the flashing of a dozen cameras and the loud screams of his name, hands clawing at him as he passed through crowded streets seemed like something that could never be normalised. But he didn't seem bothered at all; he was almost apathetic to it all. 

I saw him typing, rather incessantly. Through the corner of my eye, I caught that he was typing on a document - not even a text, or a message to somebody. He was typing something in his notes, and I noticed how his lips gently twitched to half-form some of the words as he wrote them. He looked up, catching my eye. I raised an eyebrow, but he only bit his lip back into his mouth, slipping his phone back into the pocket of his suit jacket.

There was a similar scene when we arrived at the club as there had been to when we'd left the hotel, and Harry's security, who had trailed us in another car, quickly swarmed him in order to push through the crowd that had formed. I tried to mimic the actions of the others, who simply acted as if the cameras weren't there. When Grace and I were younger, Grace used to pretend to be a celebrity in her bedroom, and she'd let me borrow her family's camera and we'd mess around, snapping photos as if we were in the midst of a paparazzi chase. I always took the photos; I never wanted to reverse the roles, and be in front of the camera - but now I found myself here, accompanying somebody who was always in that very position.

The club almost felt quiet in comparison to the screeches from outside, but I was undoubtedly relieved to be out of the relentless grasps of the paparazzi, even though they most definitely didn't know who I was. In a matter of moments, we'd been escorted through the club, and had made use of the bar.

Before I even had a second to find my bearings on the dance floor, Pauli grabbed one of my hands and playfully twirled me around, missing just about every beat of the song blasting from the speakers, causing me to laugh as I bumped into Elin. The three of us spun around in laughter, before the others then interjected. Elin said something to Harry that I couldn't quite make out, causing him to laugh, himself, before he jokingly messed up her hair. I was glad he'd chosen to come with us, tonight - I knew they were good friends, and it wouldn't have been the same if he'd chosen to miss her birthday celebration.

After Pauli had spun me around to the point I felt slightly dizzy, and I'd made it on to my second drink of the evening, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I wandered over to the seating area that was sectioned off for us, taking a seat in a booth, there.

Grace had texted me - it was the middle of the night there, and she, too, had been out drinking - her text was only a trivial update, but I still enjoyed receiving it. I typed a quick reply to her, updating her on my own whereabouts, and the uncomfortable run-in with the paparazzi. I knew she'd find humour in the fact I'd even experienced anything to do with paparazzi, just as I did. 

I put my phone away, taking a sip of my drink. I watched as Elin, definitely becoming much drunker than I was, shouted something at Mitch, almost prompting a laugh from him - almost. I noticed the absence of a certain blue blazer, there, realising Harry had slipped away, as well.