pyrite (harry styles) [completed]

twenty two

Fall 2013

"Happy birthday dear Lex-i! Happy birthday to you!"

I'm surrounded by dozens of people, but I only hear my favorite deep voice in the choir of well-wishers, and I only see one pair of bright green eyes.

Harry's holding my cake - which he disappeared for hours to make with Sarah earlier -- and now that the song has finished, he takes a step closer so I can blow out the twenty-three candles he's meticulously positioned on top.

I try to blow them all out, but fail miserably, while everyone around laughs and heckles.

"There's so many!" I exclaim, my cheeks burning underneath all the attention. In Harry's world I'm very unused to having all eyes on me.

After not making much more headway with another puff I look up at Harry through my lashes. "A little help?"

He smiles at me, and blows his own gust, and between the two of us we manage to extinguish all the flames, while everyone cheers.

Then Harry makes a point of taking it and cutting it up himself, serving me the first, giant, massive piece.

"But wait, don't taste it yet!" he pleads, before turning back to serve up the rest of the candle-adorned cake.

"Alright," I roll my eyes, but a smile doesn't leave my face as I lean against the table clutching my bright paper plate filled with happy birthday greetings in primary colors. (He'd made the bus stop at some Australian drug store to pick up decorations, napkins and plates. And wouldn't let me go inside with him.)

Finally, after what feels like five minutes of standing around like an idiot with my plate waiting for Harry to serve the crew and the one other band member who turned up for cake time (Niall), Harry brushed his hands off on his pants like his hard work was finished and turned his attention to me.

"Alright, Lexifer. Go on!"

I'm more than ready to see what the hours of fussing are about, and scoop a massive bite of chocolate on chocolate on chocolate cake into my mouth.

His green eyes dance around my face, going from my eyes to my lips, measuring my expression as I chew until finally I give him the verdict with a mouth full of cake. "This. Is. Incredible."

He beams with pride, tinged with a little bit of smugness at the compliment, and almost looks as delicious as the cake tastes. I hate that I can't give him a frosting-filled kiss right here and now, but we've done so well at keeping a low profile.

No one has a clue. Except Eleanor. Who I swore to secrecy. And who isn't joining us on the tour for a few more weeks.

"So it's good? Approved, then?" he asks, fishing for more compliments and watching me continue to dig in. "I did it all chocolate for you."

I smile, because no one has ever made me a cake before. Or really ever fussed over my birthday this much in my life. My parents weren't really into making a big deal around the day I was born, and Luke's grand gesture was always the same. A bouquet of flowers.

I preferred anything chocolate to flowers any day of the week. Especially on my birthday.

Luke never figured that out in four birthdays.

But Harry filled up the entire day with my favorite things. Then he spent almost the entire show winking and smiling at me and making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

Satisfied with my review, Harry finally picked up his own plate and dug in.

"Wow, I did do a good job, didn't I?"