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Something about this kiss is different than the rest. In the past they've been rushed and sloppy, still full of passion, but nothing compared to the bliss of this one. This one isn't fueled by lust or any dirty thoughts, only love.
His hands cup my cheeks and he leans his body into mine, pushing me back gently so that I have to grip onto his flexing jaw for support. Soft curls run along my fingers that I tug on gently as his mouth slowly grazes my top lip before barely pulling away so that I can still feel his breath heavily on my lips but with no contact.
After what feels like an eternity but is only a few seconds, Harry kisses my plump bottom lip with his perfect heart shaped mouth, finally fully connecting his mouth to mine and gliding his tongue between my lips.
Harry pushes his tongue into my mouth at a painfully slow speed that causes me to push my body into him more, and I pull on the ends of his curls more harshly than before. Our tongues play with eachother, fighting for dominance of the other's mouth, but his wins out like it always does, taking refuge within my mouth before he pulls it out and sucks on my top then bottom lip.
We pull away and open our eyes, staring into each other as we catch our breath. His green irises fall back to my lips that I'm sure are a deep shade of pink from his attack, but he quickly pulls his gaze back up to my eyes before taking his hand from my jaw and running a finger down my temple to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my hair.
"Do you mean what you said?" He asks, struggling to keep his focus on my eyes instead of my lips that I can tell he wants so badly.
My brown eyes continue to watch him as I really ponder his words. Do I mean what I said?
Do I really think I might love him?
I've always thought he is beautiful. From the moment I first met him I was captivated by his bright green eyes that made me feel like I had never seen the color green before until looking into him, but his beauty doesn't end there.
Everything from his dimples to his chestnut curls that seem to be longer every time I see him, all the way to the structure of his face give him the appearance of being sculpted by God himself. The radiance of his skin that is blemished by delicate ink in the shapes of roses, ships, and sparrows is enough to send me into overdrive, craving every square inch of his tall and lean body.
As if his deadly looks aren't enough, there is just as much beauty living within him as there is on the outside. He's kind and he's funny, having an immense sense of humor and a glowing personality. His need to do right and respect every single person he comes across despite whether they deserve it or not is something I've always envied and grown to love.
Harry's heart is twice the size of a normal human's, beating so intensely for those he loves, and he'd sooner fight for the respect of someone else over the respect that he deserves. I'm almost certain the boy doesn't know the definition of hatred, only giving love and admiration to everything this world has to offer.
He's wise beyond his years, and sure, he's made some mistakes, but we all have. What's important to me is how gracefully he's learned from them and applied those lessons so cautiously into everything he does.
My green eyed boy is so talented, with a voice so angelic that it's almost criminal for him to write such wicked lyrics. But what I love the most is that he isn't afraid to show what's on his heart. Whether that's in a song that he's written or by simply admitting it to my face, he can't let his feelings go unknown.
I don't know what love truly is, but I do know that when I'm with Harry, the rest of the world doesn't exist. I'm constantly stuck in a whirlwind of different emotions when he's around, and even when he isn't, I'm reminded of him in almost everything I see.
Harry Styles is my home. He is my safety net. He's always there to catch me when I fall, and I want nothing more than to be the same for him. Even coming to my physical home where my own mother is, hasn't felt the same since I met him. There's never a moment that I don't want to be with him, even when we argue.
The butterflies that seem to always be associated with him, whether that be the tattoo on his stomach that he claims is for me, the strange appearance of a butterfly every time we're together, or the ones that flutter in my stomach when I so much as think about him is enough to make me understand that what I feel for Harry goes so far beyond friendship.
I think I'm falling in love with Harry Edward Styles.
I'm falling hard and fast, and there's nothing that can stop me.
"Yes," I finally answer him, breathing heavily with a wondrous smile, almost proud of myself for finally taking the leap. I've never felt so golden.
Our mouths collide with one another, quickening pace from the original slow and gentle pecks he was giving me, to something more intense and passionate. It's like his entire mouth is trying to devour me whole just by the way he parts his lips widely to envelope mine and glides his tongue across them.
When his tongue hits the back of my mouth but retreats to lick my bottom lip before pushing back in and moaning into my mouth, but not without an obvious smile on his lips. Through closed eyes, I can perfectly picture the dimples that are caving in on his cheeks, and the simple thought makes me laugh joyously against Harry's lips.
He's leaning us both backward so that my back hits the seat and he's hovering above me, veins bulging in his forearms and cross necklace hanging over my face. For once I know that this moment won't go any further than it already has, and I'm okay with it. I want nothing more than to enjoy his delicate kisses while reveling in my small victory of even acknowledging the feelings I've been harboring for years.
Harry drove us back to my house, my head resting on his broad chest the entire way there. He kept one hand on the wheel and the other around my shoulders, keeping me nuzzled close, and I've never felt more protected in my entire life.
By the time we walked through the front door, Mom was already asleep upstairs, and we didn't want to wake her, so we spent our night in the living room simply talking, apology after apology from both of us taking up most of the dialogue.
It's almost impossible to keep our hands off of each other, each of us stealing innocent kisses as we interrupt whatever was coming out of the other person's mouth. The elation we both feel is so staggering that neither really knows what to do or say in fear of ruining what's only just begun.
Ruin is inevitable.
After falling asleep in each other's arms on the couch, only waking up when my mom left to go job hunting, did I have a spare moment to admire the boy that spooned me from behind. I noticed that Jane set my phone down on the coffee table and the device was lighting up, but I didn't think much of it. After all, my name was still prominent in the media.
You'd think I would have learned by now.
The next time I awoke wasn't so peaceful.
The sun has fully risen in the sky now, but that isn't the only thing lighting up my living room fiercely this morning.
Cameras.
So many flashes and shouts are coming from the outside of my house and invading my privacy that it jolts me awake with what seems like hundreds of camera lenses trying their very best to peer through closed blinds and sheer curtains. Their owners are screaming obscenities that I'm happy I can't hear clearly through the walls, but the shock of it all is enough to give me heart palpitations and new waves of nausea hitting me with as much warning as a tornado.
"Harry!" I shout a little more loudly than I meant to when I leap up from his arms and start roughly shaking his shoulder.
When he barely shifts and only groans with a small smack of his lips, I give up and jump for my phone on the coffee table, completely disregarding the standards I'd set for myself days before when something much less terrifying happened.
My phone is receiving the same treatment as it did five days ago when news of Harry being seen with me came out, only this time I go to social media first instead of ignoring it all together.
The photos make my eyes nearly bulge out of my head before tears begin to assault my senses. All of my social media pages have drastically blown up, taking me from about 200 followers on each platform to almost 200,000. That's what I get for having public pages I guess.
But I don't have much time to sit in wonderment at the drastic numbers smacking me in the face, because at the top of my timeline lies a tweet from a very famous person who I used to adore.
Actual vomit comes up my throat that I have to swallow down at the sight of her tweet, sending me into a down spiral of scrolling though comments I've received and what the entire world is saying about me.
"Harry!" I shakily yell again when I see the first comment telling me to kill myself.
He finally jolts awake, not having much time to be groggy, completely coming to his senses when he sees me hunched over my phone on the floor and upon seeing the chaos outside.
"What the hell is going on?" He breathes with widened green eyes that quickly flit back and forth between myself and the paparazzi pushing each other to get a shot of the inside of the house through a slit in the curtain.
Through shaky breathes that I'm using to try and control my tears, I shove my phone at him, watching as he stares at it in disbelief, my stomach dropping at his expression.
His eyes scan over the photos of us kissing in the station wagon last night, each one more clear than the last, making it more than obvious to the world that it's Harry Styles and Belle Granger.
"How did they find my house?" I quickly stand to match Harry who's shoulders sag as he continues to scroll. My teeth find their way to my chipped red nails and begin biting down harshly on them.
"They must have followed us. Whoever took this must have fucking followed us!" He seethes, making me jump what feels like five feet in the air at the volume of his voice. "I'm sorry, darling," he softens just as quickly as he angered, rushing forward and pulling me into his chest.
I shake like a leaf against him, fully knowing that whatever storm surrounding me the last few days was just the beginning. Back then, considering it seems like a lifetime ago despite it being anything but, I was the girl suspected of breaking a celebrity relationship who told the world she didn't.
Now I'm the girl who lied. They've got solid proof now.
They say the eye of the storm is the worst place to be, and that's where I've just set up permanent residence.
The only thing keeping me sane is Harry's comforting presence and the reassurances slipping from his tongue, but there's no telling what is going to happen when management gets involved- when my personal life gets dragged into this.
God only knows.