Events || Harry Styles

019

"Norah, you're okay?" Harry asked for confirmation while he clicked his seatbelt in.

"Yup," I squeaked out.

He impatiently honked his car horn twice before gunning it. Once we were a couple blocks away, he slowed down and I lifted my head and straightened myself on the seat. I buckled my seatbelt and slumped back into the leather.

"Are you sure you're okay? You got lost in the crowd. No one scratched you or anything? You're okay?"

"Yes, Harry," I repeated.

"I'm gonna pull over soon," he added.

•••

3 hours earlier

I took off my leather jacket and placed it over my chair before I sat down. I cleared my throat and picked up the menu. I was so blown away by the prices of the damn salads that I was afraid to look past it to a different section.

I glanced up to see Harry looking at me through his thick lashes. His menu was placed in front of him, but that wasn't what he was interested in.

Through my confidence, my eyebrow raised a bit and a curious smile crossed my face.

"Yes?" I hummed expectantly.

He blinked and licked his lips, dropping his head to focus his attention onto his menu. He scrunched up his nose, something I came to realize he did often. "Nothing," he muttered.

"So, the cheapest item I've found on this menu is the water...which costs three dollars," I inquired.

He said something I didn't hear correctly.

"What?" I asked.

He looked up, his green eyes zeroing in on mine. "Pounds. You said dollars."

"Oh," I blurted. "Shit-shoot, we're in London, huh." I said the last part mainly to humor myself, but Harry found it funny, too.

"I've never come across a person who's forgot about the currency here as much as you have," he chortled.

I laughed. "Sorry! I'm forgetful and have never gone to another country," I defended.

I took my lanyard with my keys on it from my leather jacket pocket, planning on putting them into my bag underneath the table.

"Woah, careful there," Harry warned sarcastically.

I'd never rolled my eyes harder than I had in that moment. I glared at him while I slipped the harmful piece of string and metal into my bag. Painful flashbacks of the day we'd first met flashed through my mind.

He looked back down at the menu, his dimples appearing on his cheeks as he tried to hold back a laugh.

I opened my mouth to slay his life with a few choice words, but a waiter walked up to our table. We gave him our drink orders, and he walked away to give us a few more minutes to look over our (overpriced) food options.

"So, how's your career in entertainment going?" I asked.

I saw his eyes narrow slightly, playful skepticism filling his facial features. He ran a hand through his hair.