Harry’s POV
“Thank you all so much, again! We wouldn’t be here without you guys! You’re the best fans in the world!” Liam closed off the show and we all ran off the stage.
“That was great, lads,” Niall said, taking a swig of his water bottle. We all nodded in agreement, out of breath. We went to our dressing rooms, leaving the doors that linked them open so we could talk.
“Did you see the girl with huge jugs in the second row tonight?” Louis asked, unbuttoning his dress shirt.
“Damn, she was hot,” I reply, shaking out my hair. “But I think the chick at the meet and greet with the yellow dress was hotter.”
“Guys, it’s not nice to talk about girls that way,” Liam reminded us. We all rolled our eyes at him. I loved Liam, but he could be such a fucking buzz-kill sometimes. I mean, girls were here to pleasure us.
Like Grace. She was fucking sexual. Ever since that night a few weeks ago, I could not stop thinking about her. God knows if she felt the same way, so I tried to keep my distance. I, of course, have fucked a few bitches since then, but I always thought about Grace.
After we finished changing, everyone was to report back to the hotel. We usually went clubbing or drinking or something after a concert, but management said something about us keeping a low party profile after that rumor that came up about me punching a cop. Well, not a rumor. It was true.
Anyway, the boys and I had agreed to just stay in tonight. Liam would probably do a twitcam or something and the rest of them would call their mums and say a quick hello. I, on the other hand, was going to call Grace for round two.
As I walked to my hotel room, I spotted her familiar brown hair. Damn, she was so hot, even from the back. I slipped my key into the card slot and yelled to Grace simultaneously.
“Grace! Hey!”
She turned, blue eyes scanning the hall for the source of the voice. She locked her gaze on me, looking me up and down. I was turned on by that.
“Hey, Harry,” she sighed halfheartedly, then turned around and kept walking, much to my dismay. She was not leaving that easily. Rejection was not in my vocabulary. I’m Harry fucking Styles. Bitches love me.
“You alright love?” I stressed the last word, hoping she’d catch on. She turned again, hesitated, and then shook her head no. She glanced down the hall again, as if looking for someone, and then started walking towards me. Fuck yes. She wanted me.
“Can I tell you something?” She whispered, closing the distance between us. I took her hand and led her into my room, locking the door behind us.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I sat down on the king sized bed, then motioned for her to do the same. She shook her head again, declining.
“I need to tell you something very important, Harry. But you can not tell anyone, alright? Not even Louis or Zayn or Niall or Liam. Nobody.”
“What is it then?” I yawned, unconcerned.
“I’m pregnant, Harry.” Her voice wavered as her blue eyes looked at my reaction.
I was too stunned to say anything, so I just sat there like a pussy, jaw dropped.
“You’re what?!”