Brutality | Harry Styles

Chapter 11

The week prior to Melody's birthday had her nervous and distracted. She kept imagining different ways that the night would end. Some made her smile, and some made her cringe and contemplate canceling the whole thing. It didn't help that Harry didn't contact her until late Thursday night with a text that asked simply, Time?

Just the one word made Melody's stomach flip. She could tell exactly who it was without his contact even saved to her phone, because who else could be so concise and passive? She replied that nine-thirty would work. That would give her enough time to introduce Harry to Bea and for them to order a cab.

Your place? Do I have to dress up again?

Melody found herself laughing breathily despite the nerves bubbling in her stomach.

Yes, my place. I liked the shirt that you wore to the exhibit.

Harry felt a wave of nervous frustration as he reread Melody's text message on Friday night. He never felt this way, not even before a tough fight. She hadn't really answered his question, but he got the gist of it. He stared into his closet. Unfortunately, he only owned the one button-up, so he didn't have options.

Is this a date? Harry asked himself as he left his flat, showered and dressed. He wasn't sure. When he glanced down at the gift bag in his left hand, though, he was almost positive it was a date. Was he supposed to have gotten her a gift?

He felt strange. In his entire life, Harry had only been on two or three dates, and those had all been during his time at school after he had moved back to England. He preferred one night stands with strangers, never at his place, always at theirs. It was quick and emotionless, and he could leave immediately after without revealing any more than his first name. He found that he wasn't really interested in relationships. The girls he had taken out had asked for too much, too fast. What made this any different? Harry wasn't sure, but he pushed down the discomfort he was feeling and tried not to think about it as he crossed town.

Melody was zipping up Bea's dress when she heard a knock on the door. She glanced at the clock and smiled. He was ten minutes late. She hadn't expected any different. Bea gave Melody a suggestive glance through the mirror and smoothed down the satiny material of her dress.

Melody couldn't stop fiddling with the straps of her own dress as she left Bea's room and crossed the flat. She paused in front of the door to collect herself before opening it. Harry was leaned beside the doorway outside, his head tilted back against the wall. He twisted his neck when he heard the door open and found Melody there.

"Hi," she said. She noticed that he looked almost exactly the same as when he'd gone to the art exhibit with her.

Harry swallowed thickly. He tried not to let his eyes rake down her body, but he found it difficult. She had looked beautiful for the art exhibit, classy. But now, in a velvety blue dress, with so much skin showing and her hair down, he felt the breath leave his lungs.

Harry coughed and stood up straight. "Uh, happy birthday," he said.

"Thank you." Melody grinned at him. "Your eye looks better," she observed. The purplish skin had healed to unpleasant shades of yellow, but it was no longer swollen shut and Harry seemed like he could see just fine. Melody pulled the door open further, moving off to the side. "Come in. I'll introduce you to Bea."

Harry stepped tentatively inside. Melody shut the door behind him and then led him through the kitchen and into the living room. Harry glanced around and wasn't surprised to find that this place was far different from his own. The lighting was warm and comfortable. The furniture was obviously arranged by someone with artistic ability. It felt homey.