Harry's POV
The next fortnight in Europe was repetitive; we did an interview, posed for photo shoots, played a show and went to bed. Woke up, got on a plane. Landed, did a show. Repeat. Repeat. It was a stressful enough schedule already, only made worse by the fact that having Tamara by my side increased the number of paparazzi chasing us down the pavements tenfold. We might as well have turned it into the Tamara tour; she was all anybody was interested in, the centre of attention. I couldn't quite tell whether she adored it or despised it.
The nights were the only time we really got to be alone together. I knew I needed my rest - I had to be at my best for the shows, the days were long and tiresome, and I couldn't really afford to have bags under my eyes - but it felt like I always lay down to sleep at around twelve, and glanced up again to find it was four am and I'd been talking to my pregnant girlfriend about everything from desserts to the meaning of life for several hours. It was important though that we had this time together to talk. I felt like I was really properly getting to know her, inside out and back to front. I wanted to know every tiny fact about the girl who was carrying my baby. Plus, she looked really beautiful at three in the morning, curled up next to me, duvet wrapped at awkward angles around her as her big blue eyes stared up at me sleepily. Hair in tangles and hanging wild around her face. An old t-shirt of mine just barely reaching her tanned thighs...she was perfect. Despite the protrusion of her swollen stomach, I was constantly overwhelmed with lust for her. Even on the nights when we didn't waste time talking, I lost sleep anyway as did the other boys most likely, if they could hear the headboard banging against the wall as loudly as I could.
I was glad of all the late night bonding we'd done on the continent when we got back to the UK because me and the boys were spending hours at a time in the studio together. Poor Tamara was forced to sit in the apartment on her own, not that she really minded; she enjoyed her own company over that of most other people.
"You should get out sometime," I told her one morning as I sipped my hot water and honey, preparing myself for the strenuous day of vocal recording ahead, "You could catch up with Danielle and El. That'd be fun."
She simply rolled her eyes and pouted. She was shovelling Frosties into her mouth straight from the box. "I don't plan on doing anything this week that requires more clothes than I am wearing right now."
I glanced down her frame, covered only by a baggy checked shirt that I was certain belonged to me, and couldn't keep the smirk from my face. "Sounds good to me, babe!"
She still texted me during the day, teasing me, letting me know what she was up to. Mostly what she was baking, seeing as it was a hobby she'd taken up to pass the long hours of solitude. I came home at night to chocolate cake, rice krispie buns and homemade muffins iced with each letter of my name, so that when you lined them out they spelled 'Harry Styles'. I tweeted a picture and received a bus load of hate in return. I couldn't understand how they could respond to the fact that the girl who was carrying my baby had made me cakes by calling her names. Wasn't it a sign that she cared for me? That I was happy? Wasn't that what they were supposed to want?
I didn't let it annoy me, and I didn't mention it to her. Instead, I tucked into my buns and kissed her, and told her she was beautiful. Nobody else needed to be satisfied with my life but me, and I was more than content with the way things were going.
It was Thursday afternoon, after four long days of recording and being cooped up in that same dim room with a microphone in my face for hours on end, when the news came. For the moment that Brenda, a stout, friendly woman who was head of our Communications and PR team, interrupted our day I was pleased; any break was a relief at this stage. It was only when she pressed a copy of the daily paper into Louis' hands that I realised there was a problem.
"Page 4 and 5," she breathed, shaking her head, "Double page spread. You might want to show it to Harry."
Louis unfolded the sheets cautiously and winced as he turned the pages and set eyes on the headline. I approached from across the room, having heard my name. To be honest the minute Brenda opened her mouth lately I knew it was going to be about me. I was all over the bloody place, with the obvious scandal. She didn't know what to do with me at this point.
"What is it?" I asked slowly, fear seeping through my veins. I was terrified of what I'd face; more rumours, people trying to tear us apart. People claiming Tamara was lying, that I was lying, that I had cheated or was pretending....anyone with an imagination could say whatever they wanted to a magazine about me and get paid because every journalist was dying for a scoop on the Harry Styles/Tamara Gold lovechild.
When he twisted the paper towards me, I felt sick. The face that loomed on the page was familiar, and despite the fact that I hadn't known him very well and had come to despise him, it still hurt that he'd betrayed me once again. It was Josh. Staring deep into the camera lens, eyes glazed with petty sadness.
"WHO'S THE DADDY?" it read. Well, not the most creative headline by any means but there was me sure enough wearing the t-shirt earlier in the month. I'd brought that cliché title on myself I thought with a bitter smirk.
"What a prick," Louis immediately began shooting off, "releasing a story after everything we did for him!"
I shook my head weakly, eyes scanning the page. I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, feeling that stabbing pain in the centre of my chest that I'd come to call heartache. When you felt so sad, so alone,so let down that the misery physically hurt you. That was how I felt right now; sad, alone, betrayed. I tried not to blame her, but I couldn't deny that every time I saw his face it brought back the image of her that was burned into my brain...of his hands all over her. His filthy, scumbag hands. And it made me want to vomit.
"Just ignore him, Haz." Louis continued his pointless ranting which I guessed was for my sake rather than his own. "Don't even read it, he doesn't deserve your attention."
I pulled the paper from his grip forcefully, setting it out on the table in front of me to read in complete disregard for his advice. I didn't know whether it was the vigour I used to take it from him or the deathly look on my face, but he didn't argue with me. I wanted to know what the bastard had to say at the very least, although I could just about guess. He was claiming it was his. I winced at the thought alone; it felt like a knife in my side.
'...Tamara texted me asking to meet up. We ended up having mind-blowing sex, initiated by her. She told me to call her Tammy..."
I exhaled sharply, scraping my hands through my hair as I forced myself to read on, to at least soak in the gist of the article. I was aware of the eyes on me, everyone in the room watching cautiously to gauge my reaction. Holding their breaths to see if I'd go crazy. I hated having them here, all of a sudden. I wanted to be alone to process this.
'I think her and Harry were experiencing a bit of a rough patch; they weren't getting on and that's why she came to me..."
Good, I thought righteously, at least he had that much correct. She hadn't gone in search of him out of any sort of lust or desire; she was just in a bad place. We were in a bad place, I reminded myself. It wasn't because she didn't want me, and I shouldn't blame her. I didn't blame her.
'She would be around 18 weeks gone, and that is how long ago we were together. I'm demanding a paternity test because I deserve the right to know whether the child is mine. I truly believe that Harry could simply be adamant that it's his without knowing the black and white truth of who the father is. He could be in denial, but either way I believe there's a chance that it's mine.'
"That bastard!" I exclaimed suddenly, clenching my jaw and balling the paper up between my fists. I regretted my reaction immediately; the entire room tensed, each of them waiting for me to explode into fury. I glanced around them, the faces of anticipation, ready to calm me, to speak kind words of reassurance, to stop me if I became violent. Eyes full of scrutiny, thinking they knew me, that they knew how I would react. I forced myself to relax, levelling out my breathing. I spoke calmly, collecting myself. "He thinks it's his. It's not, I know it's not. She had a test done..."
"We could publish the results if you want to clear it all up," Brenda chimed in helpfully. My eyes met her hopeful face, her pleasant expression as she praised herself for finding a solution. I sighed in exasperation. It wouldn't be that simple. Nothing was ever that simple.
"That's something you'd have to talk to Tamara herself about, I'm guessing," Louis pitched in quietly, believing himself to be on my behalf. Once again. "Her management and that. Am I right?" He looked to Brenda, Paul, Preston for a confirmation that he was being sensible, speaking from an unbiased point of view and therefore a more rational one.
"No," I broke in forcefully, looking up from my shoes at last. "No, Lou, you're wrong. Nobody's going to talk to Tam about this, you hear me? I don't want her knowing."
They looked astonished, but said nothing. Apart from him of course. Louis couldn't keep his gob shut if you paid him. "She deserves to know what's going on, Harry."
"She doesn't need the stress this would bring," I emphasised, glaring at him. "She doesn't need this on her plate right now." I knew how she'd act in response. She blame herself, bringing back all the insecurities and thoughts about the fact that she believed she wasn't good enough for me. She was so, so wrong but nothing I said would convince her of that when she was in that dark, self-loathing mindset. I didn't want her to go to that place again. She wasn't the Tammy I loved when she was like that. "Maybe I'll tell her sometime, but for now leave it. It'll sort itself out."
I finished my reasoning, turning on my heel and stalking to the door of the booth, headphones in my hands and ready to record. "We should get back to work," I pushed, aware that they were all still standing in wait. Silent. Simply watching me, observing. Like the whole fucking world. You would swear me and Tamara were some kind of circus act, or animals in a zoo even. The people watched curiously through the glass, waiting for us to do something of interest. For one of us to detonate beneath all the pressure and give them something to talk about.
Louis cleared his throat. Still pressing his opinion. I loved him but sometimes he acted like he knew what was best for me better than I did. Occasionally he was right, but he couldn't live my life for me and I resented that he tried to do just that. "I think you should tell her. You're not helping by doing nothing-,"
"Louis," I growled, the rage building in my stomach. "I know you're only trying to help, but it's not your life. Neither my girlfriend nor my baby deserve the stress of this situation right now."
There was a pause as my words sank in. I hoped he got the message, and began to believe he had when he spoke no more but my thoughts were too soon. When he replied, there was a hint of sarcastic irony in his voice that I disliked. "So what? You're just going to act like Josh never said anything, like this article never happened? Protect Tamara and the baby from the entire world?"
I pressed my lips together and pulled the heavy headphones over my ears, blocking out the sound of everything in the universe but my own voice which was amplified in my ears. "They're my family," I said clearly, "protecting them from the entire world is my job now, Lou."
I expected to feel a weight off my shoulders when I stepped through the door that night, the release of the day gone by lifted, but my head simply felt heavier if anything. It felt like I'd been sick and still had acid in the back of my throat, and it had done for hours. I should have known that it all wouldn't just disappear because I was home and safe. The thoughts of Josh's article has weighed me down all day, the dread of what it would lead to. The fear of how much it would hurt her if she heard, because honestly all I wanted in my life was to keep Tamara happy. Our baby's health depended on her happiness, and my happiness depended on the health of them both. But keeping it to myself was causing me sickness as it was; I had a pounding headache, and my feet and back ached. It was one of those nights when I just wanted to lie down with her in my arms and sleep for the rest of my life.
I plodded into the living room, still fretting away silently deep inside my heart. A smile tugged at my lips, and for a moment I forgot as I laid eyes on her body relaxed on the sofa, my shirt ridden up just over her belly button. The sight of her rounded, swelling bump gave me butterflies. And her pretty face, gazing idly at the TV. Her eyes twinkled in the dim light, a few candles perched along the shelf and the flickering glow of the TV being the only illumination in the room. I leaned against the doorframe just watching her for a moment, happy to wait for her to notice me rather than disturbing her from her beautiful perfection as she simply lay there. I could have watched her forever.
"Hey stalker," she mumbled after a few moments. I smirked in amusement at her comment. Her eyes never left the episode of Friends that played on the flatscreen. "Did you miss me today?"
"A lot," I mumbled, discarding my shoes and padding over to the white leather sofa. I perched on the end just next to her feet, planting my own on either side of her knees before dropping forward to straddle her small body. She smiled up at me, meeting my tired eyes. I leaned down to press a kiss to her supple pink lips, tucking her hair back from her eyes.
"I made cookies," she whispered like it was a secret, her warm breath tickling my chin.
"That's nice," I breathed back with a smile, showering her neck in wet kisses, "What kind?"
"White chocolate and strawberry," she whispered again, beaming childishly at her achievement.
My forehead rested on hers and I stayed put, happy to just stare into her eyes and whisper back and forth for the rest of the night. "How was the studio?"
"Shit. I'm exhausted, and my back is so painful, I'm gonna have to get up," I grumbled straightening up and immediately missing the proximity we'd had. I stretched awkwardly, feeling short-lived relief before the ache in my muscles set in once again.
She followed my movements fluidly as I sat up, reaching around to rub my fingers into my aching joints. She moved into the space behind me, opening her legs so I was sat between her thighs. Her small hands touched my spine through my shirt and rose goosebumps along my skin. "Do you want me to give you a massage?"
I looked over my shoulder at her, taking in the soft smile across her features. She pressed a kiss to my lips quickly, and I nodded in acceptance. "That'd be nice, yeah."
"Budge up then," she instructed, nudging me forward on the cushions, "And take your t-shirt off."
"Ooh," I cooed, smirking as I dragged the material over my head, "You sure you're not just horny again and looking for excuses?"
"Shush you," she hushed me gently, but I could hear the cheeky smile in her voice. God, this was nice. I almost felt fine, like nothing was wrong. Like nobody in the world was trying to tear us apart. But the matter of Josh was simply pushed to the back of my mind for now - it couldn't stay there forever.
She excused herself momentarily, dashing from the room as fast as her bump allowed her to before returning with some sort of bottle in her hands. She wouldn't let me see it when I asked, but told me to prepare myself. I flexed a little, waiting patiently for her touch. Her hands finally made contact with my skin, and they were warm and slick. I could smell lavender.
"What's on your hands?" I inquired, my voice coming out more breathy than I intended as her fingers took a hold of my senses. I guessed it was some sort of oil as she rubbed firm circles into my skin with her thumbs, then smoothed her palms down to the waistband of my jeans, travelling back up. It felt like heaven.
"Don't worry what's on my hands," she scolded me, focusing on my shoulders and sending chills down my spine as she squeezed them sharply. I was in ecstasy. "Just think about how it feels. Relax. Enjoy." Her voice was right next to my ear, and it only increased the intensity of the pleasure I felt at her careful touch. I hummed in response, letting my eyes fall shut as she rubbed swift circles into my skin with her flat palms. She never stopped her tender kneading of my skin, orking all the stress out of my body, and all the tension from my mind.
"Mmm, Tam," I exhaled, head rolling back a little in pleasure, "That's so good." I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. Every nerve ending was tingling, my fingernails digging into the fabric of the couch. "Ugh, God."
She stopped her movements suddenly, and my skin was left moist and tingling. I looked round over my shoulder only to be met by a passionate kiss, tongues dancing. When she pulled away she was breathless. "You know Harry, I think I don't pay your back enough attention. You have a really sexy back."
"Well thank you," I said through stunted breaths, watching her heavenly blue eyes. She was amused, teeth clamped on her lower lip to hold back a giggle. "What?" I exhaled breathily. She dropped her eyes to my crotch and I felt a blush rise in my cheeks.
"Someone's got a semi," she said in a singsong voice, "My massages must be good."
"Mind blowing is the word you're looking for," I insisted, catching her lips with mine. "Do you wanna come to bed and help me sort this out? Or are you going to make me satisfy myself?"
She winked, eyes darkening with lust. "Only if I can watch, babe." She pushed her plump lips firmly to mine, a lingering kiss that made my pulse race. My hands pulled her into my lap, body twisting to accommodate her. I breathed shakily and took her hand, ready to drag her to bed with me. The things I was going to do with her. I couldn't wait to have my hands on her skin, touching her carefully, satisfying every craving.
My high crashed down as that sickening image taunted my mind once again. Of him. His hands on her. His dirty, rotten, lying hands. I shook it from my mind swallowing the bitterness and fighting the lurching feeling in my stomach. I hoped my worry had passed fast enough for it to go unnoticed.
But her smirk faltered. She'd seen. "Harry?" she said, voice thick with concern, "Are you alright?"
"Fine," I faked, smiling a little too enthusiastically, "I'm just dying to have you in my arms, of course. That's all that's wrong."
The pause that followed my unconvincing words was too long for her to have believed them. I saw her thoughts in her eyes like she was an open book. She wondered what I was hiding. She worried. She loved me.
"I don't want to have secrets between us, Harry." Her voice was a weak whisper, her gaze smothering mine with concern. She was too smart for me to lie to her, but it didn't stop me trying. The idea that maybe telling her would be easier occurred to me, but I denied it. I had to protect her. I'd rather carry this burden on my shoulders and have it eased by her affectionate, uninformed touch than see her scared and worried and upset. It was better this way when she stayed innocent and happy in an ignorant bliss. A happiness that I could maintain for her.
I traced her lips with my fingers smoothly, pulling the corner up gently into a smile. She softened beneath me. "Me neither," I murmured quietly, "No secrets."
She watched me cautiously, judging my honesty. "You promise?"
"Promise," I sighed, cupping her face in my big, clumsy hands that made her look so very small and delicate, so breakable. I kissed her lovingly, trying to convince her. I didn't want her asking questions. I didn't mean to lie to her, but it was for her own good. Because I couldn't bear to see her in pain.
She buried her fingers in my curls, moaning weakly into my mouth as we got caught up, my bare back suddenly pushed plush against the leather, her thighs straddling my waist. I popped the buttons on her shirt, heart pounding at the revelation of her half naked frame beneath. I dropped the ball of material to the wooden floor, hands pawing at her soft skin, her stunning body. Made just for me.
She caught my eyes, her palm rubbing furiously against my stiffening crotch. She shifted back down my legs, unzipping my fly and stretching back my boxers quickly, letting them pool with my jeans around my knees. She wrapped her lips around me, letting my length harden in her warm mouth. I hissed at the irresistible sensations, letting them drown out the guilt and regret in my stomach. All the pain, the heaviness, the worry. It was all lost in her touch, in every thought of her. She made the whole world disappear. She protected me from it all.
A/N: hey guyys!(; hope your enjoying! sooner or later itll all be over! ); );
MAKE SURE TO COMMENT, VOTE EXC... ILYA! XoXoXo