The first time you'd truly been introduced to Harry's popstar life was the following week when you went out to dinner together. He'd called you up earlier in the day, telling you to dress snazzy because he was taking you out to celebrate the success of your event at the museum.
He'd booked a table at a secluded restaurant in North London and he picked you up in a black Bentley that was being driven by a personal driver and greeted you with some flowers and a tight hug. You had assured him he didn't need to go through all this trouble of the night and he assured you that he wanted to.
You dressed in tight, high waisted pants with a matching crop top and an oversized leather jacket, throwing on a natural glam type of makeup that was dewy and bronzed. You slid into a pair of heels to gain some height on Harry. He was always teasing you about how short you were but you constantly disagreed, informing him you were of normal height and he was just abnormally tall.
Following your conversation about your friendship, it was blooming and flourishing. Full of consideration and warm fuzzy feelings. You didn't go a day without talking, excited to fill each other in of your days. He was as comforting as a bowl of your favourite soup on a stormy day.
You knew he had been seeing people and you had been, too. It was another conversation the two of you had. He was genuinely curious if you were planning on fucking anyone during your hiatus from commitment and you weren't shy to educate him of how sexual you were and how much you enjoyed casual sex. Harry was quick to shield his surprise and agree, his past with relationships deemed him a big fan of it.
He was so proud of you and your success, the event was a hit and garnered you plenty of appreciation and attention in your industry, your assistant informing you of new opportunities that were flooding your email inbox. You were getting the well deserved recognition and you felt the shift after all your hard work. It was a massive relief. Your parents had called you to express how proud they were of you, and your brother promised to come to London soon and take you out for a drink to celebrate.
Harry educated you on the best way to eat out, he ordered more than enough food, expressing that he wanted you to try all the cuisine they had to offer on their menu. He explained it was all far too good to just chose one or two items. By the time dessert arrived, you were both feeling the bottle of expensive champagne he'd ordered (you had peeked at the pricelist and almost choked on a sip of the liquid gold at the number) and sat cracking jokes while devouring a deliciously rich chocolate cheesecake shared between the two of you.
A small, polite voice pulled you both from your giggling and banter and you whipped your heads up to see a girl stood trembling with excitement. Her gaze was locked on Harry, "Hi, I'm so sorry to interrupt, it's just that I'm a big fan." She smiled and Harry's gaze softened and he stood up to greet her.
"It's no worries, love. How are you, you alright?" He was quick to wrap the overwhelmed girl in a hug while she clung to him. It really was heartwarming.
You felt a little on edge, your existence managing to stay unknown to his fans and you wanted to melt into the floor because you felt like that was about to change. You weren't scared for yourself, you were scared for Harry. He was very traumatized by what fame had done to his relationships and you didn't want him to suffer even more.
He got a picture with the fan and she left after they talked a little more while you watched the interaction with appreciation. It wasn't soulless, harry was genuinely interested in spending the time with her, getting to know her, thanking her for her support. You almost let out a sigh that the fan didn't acknowledge you aside from a couple of glances and small smiles.
"That was lovely," You breathed out, taking a gulp of your champagne.
"It's always so good to meet them. Thank them and get to know them, ya know?"
"Of course. They really love you."
"I love them, too. I'm so grateful." His foot tapped yours playfully under the table. "I'm loving the fit, by the way."
"Don't know why I bother when you dress up enough for the both of us," You gestured to his floral dress shirt.
"You like it?" He quizzed, looking down at the garment. "Not too grandma-ish?"
"Fuck no, it may be my new favourite, actually." You expressed and he tilted his head to his shoulder bashfully before snapping his fingers.
"Oh shit, I forgot to mention, I'm in L.A next week." He bursted out suddenly.
"Are you joking?"
"Err, no?"
"Harry, I'm in L.A next week. They just told me yesterday."
He gasped, putting on an over the top valley girl accent, "No way!"
"I'll be there Thursday through Sunday."
"Work things?"
"Yeah, there's a black tie party thing that an artist invited me to, and then I've got a few consultations at some venues."
"Short notice for a black tie event, no? You have a dress sorted?"
"It's L.A, I won't have any trouble finding something."
After your dinner, you both fought over the bill and Harry complained that this was his treat to you and you begrudgingly let him pay. You both felt it too early to call it a night, champagne fusing the energy in your veins and Harry asked around his mates to see what they were up to. You and Harry soon found yourselves on rooftop garden bar party, the host being Nick Grimshaw. Nick was lovely and welcoming and he adored you.
He introduced you to everyone and got you super drunk to catch up to him. Harry checked up on you all night but Nick kept stealing you away and snapping way too many pictures you were sure you'd see on his social media in no time. The rest of the night was a blur, but you do remember Harry near on dragging you from the scene and telling the driver to take you both back to his house where he looked after you for the rest of the night and nursed your terrible hangovers in the morning.
A few days later, you were packing for your trip to L.A when a text came through on your phone and it was a welcomed distraction from the mountain of clothes you were trying to shove into a suitcase. It was from your friend, whom you'd known for years.
Ummm is that your little face I spy on Nick Grimshaws insta with Harry fucking Styles?
He sent a screenshot of Nicks post, it was a group picture of about ten people, and you saw your figure next to Harry's, thankfully nothing incriminating but you were there none-the-less. It was then you decided to check your Instagram and noticing you'd gained a large handful of followers and you wondered how these people found you. You quickly switched your Instagram to private and made a note to go through your followers later. It was a taste of what his friends and partners had all experienced and it was odd and you felt the need to maintain and protect your privacy. It was a small act but it made you feel better.
Heaps to catch up on, doll. We'll grab a drink as soon as I'm back from this work trip in L.A.
You quickly sent the reply and tried to swallow the anxiety that was building in your throat.
L.A was a breathe of fresh air. The sunshine was constant and the aura was very different to London. You admired the creativity and drive of the people there. You were currently in a room full of those types of people, sipping on your martini and grabbing nibbles of food off of trays swimming past you in the sea of waiters. You were with a few company colleagues and tasked with networking and representing yourself and your brand.
You'd managed to secure a gown for the event, opting for a floor length emerald green silk number that remined you of Harry's eyes. He was currently performing in downtown L.A and you could almost laugh at how different your lives were. Him, surrounded by screaming girls, and you, surrounded by proper and serious types.
There was one particular man who was eyeing you all night and you felt flattered, he was tall, dark skinned and wore a deep navy tux and couldn't keep his attention on anything but you.
After a barely passable introduction, you brought him back to your extravagant hotel room that your assistant had secured for you.
He was nice and attentive but you'd forgotten his name and he slipped your silk garment from your body, your mind kept straying to Harry. Your hookup was great in bed, managing to get you off twice before finishing into the condom and you found it odd that as soon as the euphoric sensation from your orgasms wore off, you felt numb.
Maybe if you knew Harry was also with a man in his bed feeling the same dread you did at that moment, it would have made you feel marginally better.
Harry got your hotel details from you the next morning, vowing he'd come and see you so you could enjoy lunch at the hotel restaurant together.
You had some time before he was due over and you were grateful, the man still asleep in your bed. He had fucked you again in the early hours of the morning and you waited until he fell back to sleep before slinking out of the sheets.
You were fresh out of a brisk shower, dissatisfied that he was awake, scrolling away on his phone. Your jaw clenched in annoyance. You quickly dressed in a tight-fitting creamy-coloured day dress and approached the man assertively.
"I'm really sorry, I don't mean to be rude but I have a lunch to get to." You said and he peered up from the screen.
"Oh no worries, I'll get out of your way, then." He was polite and started to get dressed while fixed up your hair.
You jumped when he approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist while meeting his lips to the bare skin of your neck.
"I'd love to see you again."
You held back a cringe, "I'm sorry but that won't be happening."
His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, are you sure? Thought we had fun last night and I would love to get to know you. We could do dinner tonight."
"Look, you seem great but I'm kinda on my own right now and prefer it that way." You closed the door of opportunity on him and he jammed his fingers, responding with a click of his tongue and a scoff.
"Fucking bitch." He grumbled.
"Excuse me? Grow the fuck up. Haven't you ever had a one night stand?" You almost slapped him across the face. "Get the fuck out."
He wasted no more time, cursing at you and then storming out.
You paced the room, "stupid fucking asshole. God, I hate men." You complained, stomping into the bathroom to apply a quick swipe of concealer under your eyes.
You didn't know this, but Harry was early and saw a man barrelling towards the elevator he had just come from, tucking his dress shirt into his pants with his jacket hung over his shoulder. He spied hickeys on his neck and saw what room he exited and dread filled his being as he saw the number bolted onto the wood.
271
It was definitely your room and definitely a freshly fucked man who had left it, the proof too evident to ignore.
His palms started sweating and he felt bile rise in his throat as he drowned in a pit of jealousy with spikes in the bottom that stabbed at his heart. He knew he was being hypocritical and you'd both been having sex with people but it hurt that it was so recent and had seen the face of a man who had what he never would.
You were surprised when there was an abrupt knock at your door, and since you weren't expecting Harry for another twenty minutes you assumed it was the horrid man returning. You sauntered to answer the door and felt an odd amount of relief to see Harry's face through the peephole.
"Harry, hi. You're early." You pulled him into the room and tried to decipher his hurt expression.
He greeted you back, feeling a weird sickly sensation in his stomach when he saw a bottle-green silk dress hanging up. He could only imagine how breath-taking you looked in it and he filled with regret that he didn't get to witness it but that man who just left had. His eyes wandered to the large bed behind you and glared at the tell-tale messy bedding.
He cursed himself, he'd chosen to bury his sorrows by burying himself inside that guy last night and you had done the same. Even after scrubbing his scent from his skin, it didn't hide the fact that he'd had him and he very blatantly wasn't you.
"How was your night last night?" You hugged him, inhaling his cologne.
"Was good, gig was sick. Went straight home after." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave out the fact that he fucked someone last night.
"My talented baaaaaby." You squeezed his cheeks in a taunt and he growled, pushing your fingers away.
"Get bent. What about you? Fancy dress." He pointed to the green silk and imagined it draped down your body, the silhouette kissing your curves.
"Oh, yeah it was good. Lots of drinking, lots of small talk." You smiled, entering the bathroom to do a final check on your appearance.
Harrys brows shot up at your vague brush off. You were usually so expressive and detailed. You usually couldn't wait to fill him in on all the juicy gossip that you gathered so your quick answer was a bit odd, especially your decision to not tell him about your visitor. He wondered why that was. Perhaps it was bad sex and not worth mentioning or maybe it was too good but perhaps you were feeling the same guilt and longing he was.
"Got any plans tonight?"
"I'm free. Why?"
"Having a get together at mine with a bunch of friends, you should come." He wanted to tell you that he needed you there, that he missed you but he refrained. He thought being around you would cleanse him of his decisions and maybe you'd open up to him and inform him of your activities from the night before.
"I'd love to come, thank you." You wanted to tell him how miserable you felt after last night but held your tongue.
You were both in a tough position, not wanting to deter the other or disrupt yourselves.
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Things are heating up. Just wait til you read the next chapter of their visit in L.A. It should be up VERY soon.
Until next time, don't forget to vote and comment. I'd love your feedback❤️
KISSES XXX