#1dffupdates

He’s done a lot of self-reflection ever since he left British soil three months prior. He blames most of it on the fact that he drank his way through endless bottles of seven euro wine until his brain was fogged and his tongue felt like lead and his throat begged for any type of liquid that wasn’t produced by grapes—but really, what else was he supposed to do with his time?

At first he did what any sad person would do, walk around aimlessly and blame the world for all of the shitty cards he’d been dealt in his life, drink abundantly and ignore the locals and pray to the gods above that Niall or Piper or Nora or anybody who ever gave a shit about him would appear out of thin air and beg him to come home.

But then he remembers that he left his mobile in his flat and he hasn’t reached out to Niall ever since he landed in Florence and told him not to worry about him. He remembers that grief is a muscle—it needs to be acknowledged first, and then it needs to be worked day in and day out until it’s pliant, until the hurt is ready to disappear and in its place, happiness can begin to grow stronger and stronger, until the grief is nonexistent.

When Harry thinks of pure happiness, he can think of three times in his life when he felt it consume him.

The first is when he first met Nora Priestley.

He saw her before she ever even knew he existed. He remembers sneaking into the Great Hall at Townbridge, the heavy oak door groaning every time he pushed it open further and further, trying his hardest to stay undetected. His eyes scanned the crowd lazily to see if he could spot his friends, and then all at once, they stopped once they noticed sunflower blonde.

Looking back now, Harry’s not even sure what it was about the back of Nora’s head that endeared him so much. Maybe it was the fact that while everybody else was faced front and center, her head was tilted to the left, observing a pair of bluebirds perched on a Red Maple tree through the large windows. Maybe it was the fact that she slouched low in her chair, her fingers nibbling on her nail beds as she blinked once, twice.

Or maybe it was the fact that when her fingers left her mouth and inched towards her ear, tucking a stray piece of yellow hair behind it, allowing Harry to peek at her chipped blue nail polish, he lost control of the heavy door and it slammed shut behind him, causing Headmaster Clayton to stop speaking.

Harry had never been the type to get embarrassed, but he felt it then—redness flushing his cheeks and heat coursing underneath his skin, beginning at the base of his spine and ending at the nape of his neck. But if there’s one thing Harry is good at, it’s camouflaging emotions, and he remembers sliding into the seat next to the distracted blonde girl and acting like the last thirty seconds never happened in the first place.

He could feel her before he had the chance to observe her. Even at fifteen, Harry loved the attention of the opposite sex, and when he felt her gaze through the corner of her eyes, he couldn’t help but feel excited that somebody he had never met before was so obviously checking him out.

It was her laughter that made him feel happy. A gentle sound that came from the back of her throat, shaking her entire body until he couldn’t help but imitate it. He remembers even now the girls in front of them turning around and giving Nora a dirty look, and while every other teenage girl would have been flustered, Nora just laughed harder, biting down on her lip until the skin was white and her teeth nearly punctured it.

The second time Harry felt pure happiness was when he woke up the morning after his twenty-second birthday and saw that Nora had stayed.

He knew the second that his eyes fell onto her sleeping form that he was lucky that she was still there. Because after everything he had done to her, any normal person would have disappeared the moment he fell asleep. But against his better judgment, she was there—close enough that he could breathe her in, feel her breath whistle into the small space between them, smell the remnants of her vanilla shampoo filling the air.

Harry never thought of himself as a romantic. But in that moment, with the sun turning from lapis to indigo to sandstone, filtering through his lofted bedroom and casting a hue on Nora’s sleeping frame, he wondered if that was how people fell in love.

Her hair was a tangled mess around her skull, brown strands falling on her pale face, enmeshing in her eyelashes that were coated with mascara still and sticking to the remaining layer of lipstick smeared on her lips. He could feel her knee bending towards his as she laid on her stomach, her cheek resting on the pillow so that he could watch the sun’s reflections make shapes on her skin.

The thing that made his lips quirk up in a smile was when he noticed their fingertips nearly centimeters apart. Harry couldn’t remember if they fell asleep that way, because he was drunk and she was beautiful and of course he would want to hold her hand, but did she let him? Did she entertain him just because it was his birthday? Did she pity him?

He tried to remember anything from a few hours prior, but he couldn’t. And just as sudden as the sun changed colors at dusk, Harry realized that he didn’t care. Because if Nora wanted to leave, she could have. But she didn’t. And when he looked at her fingers, long slender parts of her body that were reaching out towards him, he didn’t even think twice before wrapping his pinky with her own.

He felt his breath still in his chest after the contact had been made, and when he watched her sigh blissfully in her sleep, her eyes still shut completely, Harry resumed breathing and held her pinky tighter, allowing the warmth of happiness to lull him to sleep.

The third time Harry felt pure happiness was when he and Nora mouthed two words to each other across the chapel at Niall and Piper’s wedding.

Looking back now, Harry isn’t quite sure why this moment out of all of the moments he has shared with Nora Priesley stood out to him. Why the tiny, insignificant exchange of the word ‘Hi’ made his insides burn more so than the hundreds of kisses they shared together, or the times when he got to be inside of her, be on top of her, be surrounded by her.

Maybe it was because it felt forbidden in a way, with their significant others standing besides them. Maybe it was because she had to turn around to see Harry, her chin resting on the point of her shoulder, elongating her neck and nearly causing Harry to lose consciousness. Maybe it was because even though it was out in the open, it felt incredibly intimate—two enemies turned friends turned lovers turned question mark realizing that no matter how much time passes between them, they will always find each other one way or the other.

Harry remembers feeling a magnetic pull towards Nora at that moment. Something that was otherworldly, that somebody from up above perhaps was orchestrating. That they could just find each other in a crowded room, say hello to one another, and somehow everything would be okay. Harry would feel calm and Nora would forget all of the bad things that happened to her and the world just felt right.

But that’s the thing about those moments—they are fleeting.

Harry never appreciated them until long after they were gone, until he was half a world away sitting at an iron-clad table in the middle of a winding cobblestone street, sipping a sweating glass of rosé as he thumbs through his Italian dictionary, reading the words desiderio and brama and perduto and wondering when life got so difficult.

But then the sun changes from sandstone to indigo to lapis, and he remembers that grief is a muscle. He writes those words down in his notebook and turns the page, and looks up nuovo and mutevole and letizia, feeling calm for the first time in what feels like forever.

For as many years as you’d been living there, the architecture never got old. You studied abroad for university and never left - falling in love with the city and friends you’d made, the life you created. And once you were established, you even moved your mom out there to be closer, a mere three floors below you.    

From an intern running coffee while still in school, to second in command at one of the best realty companies in London - Lighthouse Real Estate had become a huge part of your life. It allowed you to work for yourself in every sense, and afforded you the luxury of a nice apartment in center city. Your home was your safe haven, and you valued people trusting you enough to help them find their own space.        

Your phone rang from it’s spot on your oversized oak desk, pulling your attention from the bustling city below as your boss’s name scrolled across the screen.  

“Hey, Renee,” you answered as you slid the phone between your ear and shoulder.  

“Hi, are you busy?”  

“No, no,” you shook your head as you swiveled your office chair in a circle. “Just let the Jefferies know they couldn’t hide the pipe leak. They were shocked.” You smiled at the laugh she released on the other line. “What’s up?”  

“I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh yeah?” you chuckled. “Can’t say I’m not intrigued.”  

“Rick is having a rough time with one of his clients,” she started. “Sounds like the guy’s pretty difficult.”  

“Oh boy,” you laughed.  

“Would you be willing to go to the next showing with them?” She didn’t even try to stifle her hopefulness.  

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I mean, the Jefferies are difficult in the annoying sense, but they’re in the home stretch now. I’ll get in touch with Rick.”  

“You’re the best!”    

You hung up after a riveting discussion of Renee’s plans for the weekend, laughing at her depiction of her mother-in-law before making plans to grab drinks after your last showing.  You made it through a few more emails before Rick’s came through with the showing details.  

FW: Buyer… Harry Styles

“Harry Styles, huh?” you mused out loud as you tapped the email, quickly clicking the link of the showing.  

The house was impressive. So impressive that you were immediately confused as to why it was so hard for Rick to find him something. His budget must have been extensive. He could have the pick of anything he wanted with that kind of price range. So why was it so difficult?

You curiously typed his name into google, intrigue peaking when you found… nothing. Literally nothing. With a crinkle of your brow, you went back to his portfolio to see if you read his name correctly. It was definitely strange. You couldn’t find anything on Harry Styles. He had no online presence whatsoever. With a raise of your eyebrows and a deep breath, you replied to Rick confirming that you would meet them there first thing in the morning.    

If you were anything, it was determined. You were going to help Rick find this mysterious Harry Styles a house.

“Cheers,” Renee smiled as she clinked her glass with yours. “To your new client.”  

Your eyes widened as you laughed, raising your brows dramatically. “He’s definitely not my client. I’m curious to see what his deal is though. Have you met him? I tried looking him up but couldn’t find anything on him.”    

She took a big sip of her drink before answering with a shake of her head. “No, but Rick said he’s an author. Were you able to get a hold of him today?”  

“Hm... interesting,” you nodded. “Yeah, I’m meeting them at the showing tomorrow morning.” You laughed at the thought of trying to piece together even an ounce of what the client was looking for in a home. “Rick didn’t give me much, but it sounds like he has no direction from the guy. He basically just tells Rick to let him know when he has a showing for him. Like, sir, that’s not really how this works.”  

“Yeah, Rick mentioned that too,” Renee laughed. “Sounds like he doesn’t really know what he wants?”

“I guess. His price range is ridiculous though. The commission will be insane.” You shook your head in disbelief as you licked the salt from the rim of your margarita. “I’m surprised Rick wants to let me in on it honestly,” you laughed.  

“Well I didn’t really give him much choice,” Renee laughed. “This has been going on for months. The guy’s going to leave if Rick doesn’t find him something soon.”  

“Shit,” you cringed. You hated the idea of cutting in on someone else's deal.

“Just see what you can do,” Renee reasoned. “Rick will still get his cut. And I’ll make it worth your while, promise.”  

You nodded, hoping that you weren’t going to be stepping on anyone's toes. You didn’t need to beat someone else down in order to be successful. And you had no idea what Rick’s relationship with his client was like. There was a possibility that Harry Styles would want no parts of bringing someone new into the equation. He was probably comfortable with Rick now. You doubted he would want to start over with someone new.  

“Where’s the showing?” Renee asked as the waiter brought an order of guacamole to the table.  

“Those new properties over on Carnaby. They’re really nice. Hopefully I can just see what he does and doesn’t like from that. We’ll see.”  

The more you thought about Harry Styles, the more you were intrigued. What was his story? Everyone had one. Rick didn’t mention him having a spouse. Was he divorced? Did he have kids? Would he really live in a big house all by himself? He must be a bit older to have that kind of cash flow.

And everyone had things they were looking for in a home. Why was he so resistant to share? You’d never encountered a buyer that left it in the realtors court that much. It was odd. You knew nothing about Harry Styles and yet everything seemed strange already.  

Another thing you learned over the years was that you have to earn your clients trust and give them the right vibes, or the process would be infinitely harder. You had to show them you were on the same team and that you would do whatever it took to find them whatever they were looking for. Rick was a good enough realtor, but he was also a dick. Now that you thought about it more, maybe Rick wasn’t the right fit for Harry Styles.  

Later that night when you were laying in bed, you searched his name again, adding “author” in the hopes of finding a hit. But still nothing. How could someone be an author but not have any published books? Rick was no help when you spoke to him. Apparently he did have a problem with you stepping in to help, which was understandable.  

You would have to get to know Harry Styles and what he was about all on your own.

When you pulled up to the house the following morning, you immediately noticed Rick’s car and a… fucking yellow Ferrari, of all things, parked beside it.  

It put a bad taste in your mouth immediately. You always got the feeling that older men with cars like that just used it to try to impress women half their age. Ew.

You walked up to the front door with your keys and water bottle in hand, peeking your head in slowly. They had their backs to you, Rick - dressed in his typical blue suit like the bore he was - was holding a folder in one hand and pointing up to the vaulted ceilings with the other. The man next to him, who you assumed to be Harry Styles, sported a pair of athletic shorts, white socks pulled up mid calf, sneakers, a grey Randy’s Donuts sweatshirt and a…. Green Bay Packers hat?

Really? Does this guy think he’s twenty-five?  

The epitome of leisurewear. What, did he just come from the gym? With a roll of your eyes, you pushed the door open fully.

“Hello...”  

Both men turned at the sound of your voice, and it took everything inside you not to stop in your tracks. To say you were surprised when you saw that Harry Styles was not, in fact, a divorced, 60 year old man, would be the understatement of the century. But you kept your face void of surprise, the utmost professionalism, as always.  

“Harry, this is my coworker,” Rick spoke as he led Harry over to introduce the two of you.

You reached your hand out towards him, smiling politely as you shook his hand. You held back a surprised blink at the softness and ridiculous warmth of his palm as you took in his intent, green eyed gaze staring back at you.  

“Nice to meet you,” you offered with a smile.

He cleared his throat. “You too.”  

There was an awkward pause as your hand fell back to your side. You looked over to Rick, hoping he would step in, which he didn’t.  

“So,” you looked around at the high ceilings. “Pretty nice. What’s your first impression?”  

Harry looked down at his feet briefly before looking around the large room. “It’s alright.”  

“Alright?” you snickered.

He shrugged as you waited for him to add more than the two mediocre words he already provided. Instead, he stuffed his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and remained quiet.  

You could feel your eyes widen, hoping that your expression wasn’t too brash when in reality all you could think was what the fuck is up with this guy??

“Okay…” you drew the word out slowly. “Well, is there anything you like? Or specifically don’t like?”

You waited quietly, watching the way he looked around the room, pondering your question.

“Just the vibe of the place,” he settled on.

“The vibe?”

All you got was a nod as a response. He held your eyes steady this time, not faltering for even half a second.

“Okay,” you nodded. “What’s the vibe?”

“Cold.”

An actual chill ran down your spine at the word and how quickly he responded - physically reacting to the shortness of his tone. “What makes it cold?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

“Yeah, that’s my job. If I don’t know what you want, how can I find you a home?”

Just as Harry opened his mouth with another rebuttal, Rick stepped in. “Why don’t we take a look around Harry, see everything this place offers before we rule it out?”

Harry kept his eyes on yours as Rick spoke, his face completely unreadable.  But his eyes - they yearned for something that you couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Cold.

How peculiar, you thought, as you looked back at his practically iridescent green eyes. You held his eyes, waiting for him to acknowledge Rick’s suggestion. His eyebrows were furrowed deeply as he stared back at you for a moment before blinking. “Yeah... yeah okay,” he agreed.  

So you followed the men through the rest house, observing the way Harry gave next to nothing in terms of feedback about the place, each room getting a quick look around paired with a hum and a nod, his hands stuffed in his pockets the entire time. There was a lot to see - multiple rooms and bathrooms, a home gym, a basement, a pool. And yet, Harry barely blinked an eye at anything. Surely the soaker tub and rain shower head in the main bedroom ensuite should have swayed him.

“So, what do you think?” Rick looked to Harry once the three of you were back in the main living room.

“No thanks.”

Your eyebrows rose high on your forehead. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Harry repeated.

You scoffed, looking to Rick to find the same petulant look on his face as when you first arrived. You took that as your cue. “Alright, well it’s been lovely,” you stated sarcastically.

You made your way to the front door without another word. With a deep breath to steady your erratic heart, you walked out into the brisk air and straight to your car. Your blood was boiling. What a waste of time.

As you started your car, you looked up to see Rick leading Harry out of the house. And as soon as you looked at Harry, you caught that his eyes were already on you. He didn’t blink away once your eyes met, instead keeping his vision on you the entire way to his car. It was unnerving, if anything. You couldn’t read him, you had no idea what he was thinking while he walked to his obnoxious little car. How was he even fitting his lanky body in that thing?

It didn’t matter. You were ready to get out of there, and never see Harry Styles again. And so you left, driving right past him as he stood beside his tiny yellow car, forearms resting on the roof, watching him through your rear view mirror until he was out of your sight.

Later that night, sitting on your deck with a glass of wine and a book in your lap, you got the call you were waiting for.

“Hi,” you answered, already knowing what the call was going to be about.

“Hey,” Renee’s voice came through the line, a hint of unsureness in her tone. “So I talked to Rick.”

“Yeah, I figured. Look, I tried, but that guy was a prick. I was as nice as I could be to him,” you shook your head as you picked up your wine from the small table beside you. “Think he’s a lost cause. Probably shouldn’t waste any more time on him, honestly.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He told Rick he doesn’t want him as his realtor anymore.”

“Good riddance,” you laughed before lifting the glass to your lips. And you nearly choked on the sweet wine with Renee’s the next words.  

“He wants you instead.”  

AN: 🙈... we are just getting started babes, so buckle in. This is totally different from what I’ve done before so a bitch is nervous!  I would seriously love to hear your thoughts, if you have any theories already, throw them my way! And if you’ve made it this far, thank you! Don’t forget to reblog if you liked it!  🖤 anna 

HUGE thank you to my girls - @oh-honey-styles​ @andwhenshesays​ @idk-who-she-is​ @haute-romance-quotidienne​ @real-work-of-art​ - shit would not happen without their support.

talk to me || masterlist  

This was the most fun I had since moving over here to England, and in the presence of all these ‘misfit’ like personas, I felt at home. There was no awkward beats, shame or egos. The whole atmosphere was completely judgement free and as light as a feather. I talked to everyone, chatting away about California, good food spots, sports and more. I found it so refreshing to be able to relate to other people’s stories about my home state, a place I was starting to long for.

It was fair to say that we were all peak drunk around 12, dancing along to old 70’s hits as well as current ones. Jamie tried to teach us all  ‘TikTok’ dances she had learnt from her children back home. Of course the 5 of us tried our best to be choreographed and in sync, but failed miserably. Little did they all know I spent most of my free time perfecting these stupid dances. Of course any videos we took, were never posted publicly...but some did make the cut as a private post to a whopping 0 followers. Watching Harry Styles sing the words “I'm a savage. Classy, bougie, ratchet, sassy, moody, nasty” with a bunch of hip pops was an award winning scene.

So as it reached 1 am, I was near my max of what I could handle for the night. My head which was once spinning was now beginning to pound and that gross dry feeling in my mouth was taking over. I hated this part. I didn’t feel sick to my stomach yet but I knew if I didn’t get sleep soon I’d be regretting it.

“Hey, so do ya need a ride back home?” Harry’s raspy voice asked, reading the room very well. He had taken a sudden seat next to me on the couch, spreading his legs apart and laying his head back fully — complete relaxation.

“You drank tonight,” I reprimanded him jokingly. But I meant it, he was the most plastered of all of us. “You can’t drive, even if it’s just down the hill.”

“Can’t argue with that,” He hummed. “’M pretty trashed still.”

I turned my head towards him, he was still looking up as if he was admiring the wood paneled ceilings, taking every detail in. But when I looked closer, his eyes were shut. His face structure was flawless if I’d say so myself. His jaw looked like it could cut someone, his eyebrows full enough to make any girl jealous, and those floppy, thick waves — it was hard to admit that he wasn’t handsome. I blinked my eyes hard, trying to get out of the small trance I was under. I was drunk after all.

“Well…” I began, “I need to start heading down to my casa.”

“Well…” Harry chirped, directing his attention towards me. “If I can’t drive you back down, the least I could do is walk you there.”

“No, please,” I scoffed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Shaddup and grab your coat, it’s about to get chilly out there.”

I knew I’d manage doing the walk by myself well enough alone. The premises of Soho Farmhouse were protected with heavy security and gates. I knew I had no reasons to worry about a swift 5 minute trudge down a hill.

“No Harry, seriously. I’ll be fine!” I argued back, forming a tight lip smile to reassure him.

“Who knows?  A bloody chicken could be loose and start chasing you, ya? Plus, it’s my duty to make sure you get back safe. Now, up!” He instructed. “’M a gentleman.”

I knew there was no point in fighting back, he was adamant about it. Plus the look on his face when I obliged was well worth it. 

The two of us said our quick fair wells to everyone  who was still gathered round the kitchen island talking amongst each other. It might have been the alcohol, but I felt oddly emotional saying goodbye to all of them. For the first time in a month I made what felt like real connections with a group of people and all I wanted was to hang out with them forever. I was bummed knowing Jamie and Jeff would only be here for another week or so.

“Shall we take the wagon, bar cart contraption thing?” Harry offered, pointing to the blue wagon filled with alcohol. 

“I don’t even have the keys.”

“Fair enough, walking it is.”

“Thanks for having me tonight,” I spoke tiredly.

“Don’t even worry about it. Glad to be of assistance in the ‘lit’ department,” He laughed, using quotations around the word lit.

“You’re very Americanized,” I noted. He turned his head to me, raising his eyebrow as if he had just been accused of something terrible.

“That’s why I’m back here in the English countryside. Trying to ween away from all that LA bullshit…” He admitted, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“LA bullshit?” I asked, appalled...maybe even a little offended. Although I had lived in Northern California, an insult to one city of my state was an insult to all.

“Yeah, erm, spent too much time there ‘s all...” Harry mumbled. I was almost sure by his tone he was not giving off the complete truth but I didn’t want to push. Harry started to fiddle with his bottom lips, hit teeth constantly biting it over and over. Most likely a nervous habit. 

We continued walking along the cobblestone in silence, the click-clack of our shoes echoing through the emptiness of the night. Despite the quietness of it all, it felt pretty comfortable.

“I love LA,” I offered sheepishly. “I mean, as long as you surround yourself with the right people, I think LA’s one of the best places you could be.”

“Well you’re just saying that,” He countered. “You’re from California, you’re supposed to say that.”

“False!”

“I loved LA too,” Harry admitted, focusing his attention back to the cobblestone ground ahead of him.

“Loved?” I asked inquisitively.

He turned his gaze to me and laughed, “It’s complicated.”

“LA can have that effect,” I said back, trying not to delve any deeper. I had just met him today after all, there was no reason for him to trust me with any of his problems. 

“I think you staying here will definitely be a big change. It’s about as simple as it gets.” I didn’t want to delve any deeper and invade his privacy so I took his explanation as it was. I couldn’t help but think there may have been a direct correlation with his quick mood change yesterday and his reasoning for disliking California. 

“Looking forward to it,” He smiled. “‘S kinda just like, the perfect situation for me. No press, no distractions, just focusing on myself...the music.”

“Mmm, exciting.”

Harry caught my gaze, “You’ve got no idea.”

We began to approach my cottage, the smallest one on the property. The lights on in the kitchen we’re still on from when I left. They were now shining through the windows giving a angelic glow to the darkness of the night.

“No rush to get up early tomorrow.” Harry insisted as we approached the large wooden door. I looked at him excitedly, all I wanted to do was sleep in after tonight and he had just granted me his permission to do so.

“Really?” I questioned.

He nodded his head, “I’ll be sleeping in late too. Bloody tired.”

“Alright I’ll just wait for a text from Jeff..”

Harry cut me off swiftly, “Or myself.” He pointed a finger to his chest playfully.

“Or yourself,” I agreed.

“But don’t worry, like I said, sleep in and uh I’ll see you tomorrow maybe.”

For some unknown reason the air between us felt extremely awkward. I was still a little tipsy, but coming down quickly. I thought to myself that if this was any other guy, I’d probably be on my tippy toes and ready to kiss him, because why not? But it was Harry Styles. He was like my boss, I guess, and he’d have no interest in me. If anything he’d file a restraining order if I tried to pull something like that. I pulled my jacket closer to my body as the air swirled around us.

“Alright well goodnight!” I exclaimed bringing him in for a quick side hug. Harry quickly turned it into a full on hug, giving me a tight squeeze. He smelled divine. How badly I wanted to arch my head up and meet his lips, which were probably freezing. The alcohol just does something to me and makes me want to kiss almost anybody to be fair. Making out with friends whilst drunk was one of my famous traits. It was like he had handed his warmth over to me because being embraced in him I instantly felt warmer, any shivers I once had were gone.

He let go of me and awkwardly stood there, his hands flying into his pockets. “Just want to make sure you get in safe,” He noted, bringing his lips into an awkward smile, shooting his gaze towards the door.

“Oh yeah, of course,” I laughed nervously. I emphasized the key in my hand, giving him a big smile as I twisted it and unlocked the heavy door.

“Right,” He muttered.

“Get back safe!” I chirped, allowing myself to fully walk in the warmth of my cottage and turning to face him.

“I’ll text you.”

“Oh?” I arched my eyebrow at him jokingly.

“Goodnight, Colette.” And with that he turned on his feet, slowly waking back up the treacherous hill and to his abode.

I slammed the door fast, the thunderous noise vibrating through my whole cottage. I rested my back against it in a state of relief and confusion of the encounter I had just endured. Pulling myself back together and avoiding any intrusive thoughts I may begin to think, i decided to start up a hot shower and brew myself tea.

HARRYS POV

I felt weird. I hadn’t felt this way since the night I had met Camille, years ago at a friends party. It was a feeling I longed for, but also was scared of. The creative side of me wanted to embrace the feeling, the broken side of me wanted to steer clear. I knew the girl I had just waved goodbye to depended on this job, I couldn’t just ask for a replacement — plus, I was intrigued. I felt like I was at tug of war with myself over a girl I had just met earlier today. It was a tad ridiculous.

I figured the best thing for me to do was to only call her around when trulynecessary. It wasn’t like me to be this unwelcoming, but the feeling in my stomach that was creeping up to my mind was telling me to be this way. I wasn’t going to text her tomorrow for anything. Colette, right? Yep, that was her name — how could I forget it. A face as pretty as the name. I didn’t say much when I came back into my temporary home, instead I insisted I needed sleep and get a propers nice rest of what was left of it anyways. It was the most polite way to let my dear pals know to fuck off for the night. I loved them all, but I needed to get situated and I wanted space. Time to myself is what I cherished most.

I rushed up to my bedroom, shutting the door and entering the attached bathroom. I neatly undressed myself, taking a deep stare in the mirror. I looked at myself hard, the alcohol was still in my system so I appeared a little fuzzy. I felt older, my hairline was not what it used to be in the 1D days, it didn’t bother me but I had seen some tweets about it. My facial hair was growing in kind of unevenly, this is what I get for wanting to be independent and not have a stylish take care of how I look. I preferred it that way though, that’s how it should be.

Sighing, I went for the toothbrush and started on my nightly routine. I wanted to create a new set of routine now that I was becoming accustomed into this place I’d be calling ‘home’ for the next four months.

After freshening up, I let my body get underneath the cool covers, pulling them up high up to my neck to keep me warm. I stared at my phone that was sitting on the wooden table side. I always kept my phone on Do Not Disturb when I was taking time off for myself. Seeing a bunch of missed calls and emails stressed me out, and I wanted to detach from all that. I let out a puff of air, knowing what I’d be seeing if I decided to take a look at my phone. But the alcohol that was left in me couldn’t hold back so I reached for it anyways.

I quickly opened up the safari tab and typed my own name, something I was never keen on doing. I hadn’t done it for weeks actually, but I knew there was a part of me that needed to see what was being said. Just like that, a bunch of highlights of new articles and my name as well as hers were everywhere.

“Fuck..” I sighed, closing my eyes shut for a second. “Why..”

Camille Rowe, model and famed ex girlfriend of musician and heartthrob Harry Styles releases tell all book — including steamy details of  her former romance with the star!

Click. I waited for the page to load, nervously biting my lower lip.

There’s a lot of things we should thank Camille Rowe for — her Vogue tips on how to achieve the perfect Parisian makeup look, inspiring the fabulous Harry Styles Fine Line album and now releasing a book telling us ALL about her old relationship with the man himself!

Details in the book delve deep into her once what seemed great, but now known doomed relationship with the singer. She mentions details of cheating, jealously and what Harry’s really like in the bed. Thanks Camille — you’ve answered all of our questions. Turns out, Harry is just as packed as we thought he would be!

I couldn’t read it anymore, I felt humiliated and invaded of my privacy. Privacy. The one thing I valued most in my life, the one thing I hold onto like it is the most precious jewel in the world. Privacy — the one thing Camille knew was the most important aspect of my life. I grew up in the spotlight, placed under a huge amount of pressure and scrutiny. I felt as if I was made from a testing tube so specially to fit into a mold of a person I wasn’t.

For so long in my life I had felt as if people knew everything about me, even more than I did — and that’s a harsh feeling. I regained that privacy back after leaving the band and learned how to maintain a healthy balance of showcasing who I was to the world but holding back at the same time. It was what made my albums, my art, so special. Making my songs and putting them out there was  my own personal invitation to those who listened, to get a glimpse into my life.

I felt sick and the alcohol in my stomach stirred the more I thought about that damn book.I was getting older, and alcohol didn’t clique with my body the way it used to. I opened my messages up, seeing Camille’s name at almost the top of my list of new messages, probably trying to apologize.  What she should have done was ask if I was comfortable with her releasing a book that almost solely focused on our past relationship. A relationship that was well done with for almost 3 years now. For fucks sake, I’d always have love for the lady, but she never knew when she took things too far. I finally felt at peace and fully over her, and here she was ambushing my life and swiping away my beloved privacy.

I swiped left on the unopened messages, deleting them before even reading. I had to focus on the positive, that’s why I was here in the countryside after all. I hadn’t answered my publicist since the damn book came out last week, I didn’t even know where to start or what to stay. I wanted to keep silent, MIA.

Tonight with Colette though, I forgot about it all. She was stunning, there was no denying that. Funny too, and a little shy. She didn’t come off star struck by my presence, she treated me like any bloke off the street. Normal. Dropping her off at her cottage tonight, after spending the past few hours with her bloody gorgeous face, I wanted to snog her face off. Was I getting too old to be acting that way? I didn’t want to scare her off though, and that wasn’t really my style anymore.

Hookups and shit. The amount of one night stands from my days in the band were shameful. Thinking back to having security bring girls we thought were hot to our hotel rooms for a quick fuck, was so common back then, it was insane.  It was a part of my life that I felt deep regret for, and sickened me to think about. I was young, horny, and willing to give my body up to any girl. Most of the time, I felt awkward. I’d see a girl at the bar in a fancy hotel we were at, I wouldn’t even say a word to her, 20 minutes later I was back in my room, waiting for my security to drop her off for an hour or so. No phones, sign an NDA, show ID of proof of legal age, be my type and bam, she got to be fucked by Harry Styles.

Things were so much different now, I focused more on making those connections, I found it built more of an attraction. The lead up to the sex or the relationship, was now my favorite thing. After years of getting instant sex, waiting for it had now become the best part.

Ginger’s heart raced. She felt like a teenager again fumbling through her words with the boy she liked. Her face turned beet red and her mouth was dry. She, for once, had no words. She wished for this moment for weeks and now the first time she is able, she’s starting to chicken out. At twenty-six, she was acting like a sixteen year old with a boy sneaking into her room.

“My parents will hear me,” she whispers her excuse. She could feel her hips being magnetically pulled to Niall’s mouth. She wanted him so bad.

“Not if you keep quiet,” Niall laid down on the bed with his head resting on the pillow Ginger hadn’t slept on in two years. It smelled faintly of Ginger’s perfume, and as Niall made himself comfortable, Ginger stood in the middle of her room biting her nails.

“What if we get caught?” Ginger asks. Her dress sways from her anxious movements. Niall lifts his head for a mere moment.

“Ginger, you’re an adult. Grow up and let me eat you out!”

Nervous, Ginger strides over to her bed. She knows the bed squeaks when a person rolls over or moves too much. She uses the dark headboard to her advantage, her grip tight on the wood as she straddles her hips over Niall’s chest. Her heart is racing and she knows that her agonizing wait will be over soon. She’ll ride his face until her body passes out from exhaustion and the thought thrilled her.

She holds her wait as she hovers over Niall. His black eyes grow as he looks at the naked and exposed vagina of Ginger. “Yer not wearin’ any panties,” he growls, his dick hardening.

Ginger giggles as she girlishly bites her lip from excitement. She doesn’t know when the right time to roll her hips on Niall’s mouth will be. Are they going to talk or get straight into business?

“You have the perfect pussy,” Niall reaches over Ginger’s thigh and his thumb slowly circles her clit- the sensation almost taking her over. She arches her back and her breathing is eradicated. “The perfect legs, tits…” Niall breathes as he imagines taking Ginger’s big breasts inside his mouth. The way her nipples feel against his tongue. “Perfect voice to scream my name…” He licks his lips as Ginger begins to unconsciously rock her hips.

“Niall,” Ginger breathes- her eyes open from where they had closed on their own. Niall’s words had lulled her into a passion coma. His face was beautiful. Every single feature of his was her favorite. And she wanted more than anything to see her cum all over his face.

“C’mere…”

She rolled her hips over his mouth, his tongue lapping her entrance. She forced her fist to her mouth to contribute as a filter from her moans. She found her rhythm as she rocked her hips letting Niall’s nose hit against her swollen clit. Niall’s lips linger on the fleshy pick skin as he delves his tongue inside of her tasting her wetness. She was so wet for him. And he wanted to taste her forever.

Ginger swallowed a scream as NIall’s nose rubs against her clit as his tongue dove deeper inside her. Her legs began to shake as a fire burned inside of the bottom of her torso. Her muscles tighten in her body as she rolls her hips vigorously against Niall’s mouth. His hands dig into the sides of Ginger’s hips as he rubs his nose along her clit for longer. His tongue flicks against the pink walls, his tongue feeling the groovy roof of her womanhood.

Ginger feels her body about to expire, but rolls her hips harder, pushing herself farther down on him. She wants Niall’s tongue deep inside her. Her knuckles bleed white as her grip on her wooden headboard becomes harder. She knows the build up is becoming too much for her and she feels herself about to squirt.

Hearing Niall whine as her moaning continued was what pushed Ginger over the ledge. Her undoing flowed into Niall’s mouth and over his chin and cheeks. She screamed into her hand as her vision blurred and her body convulsed her thrusting into sparatic rolls. The crashing waves of her orgasm stifled the room as Niall grunted inside of her.

She lets her grip of the headboard go and Ginger falls against the bed. Her feet were still straddling Niall’s face as her legs laid across her chest. She tried to catch her breathing as her heart raced from pleasure, but she felt the bed bounce slightly underneath her heavy body.

She turned to find Niall tugging his dick in his hands. She had been in her own world of recovery hat she didn’t hear Niall’s pants unzip. His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to stifle his moans. Watching Niall get himself off made Ginger’s nipples ache. She wanted to taste him again. She wanted him inside of her still.

“Fuck,’’ Niall whispered as he grabbed the back of Ginger’s head and brought her mouth the tip of his cock. The warm salty cum spurted inside her mouth. The taste of Niall overcame her and she pulled her head against Niall’s grasp and swallowed his undoing. The two fell into silence as they tried to wind down from their sexual experiment. The only sound was the heavy breathing and the lone stomach growl that came from Ginger. The two fell into a fit of laughter before Ginger sat up on her elbows.

“Wanna grab some lunch?” Ginger quirked her brow up. She knew exactly where she was taking him.

“As long as I can have you for dessert…” Niall said, his voice hinting for another round.

Ginger had already opened her bedroom door, purse on her shoulder when she retorted in a sing-song voice: “Always.”

~~~~~~

Ginger was leading Niall down the sidewalk downtown. The shops were open and almost everyone they passed Ginger waved to. They were holding hands as she tugged Niall to the comic book shop that her middle school friend’s uncle had opened.

“You seriously know everyone here?” Niall stated as an observation more than a question. The sun was beating down on the two of them as Ginger licked her cookies-n-cream ice cream from the old time parlor they had just left.

“It’s just Brian. He used to drive my school bus,” Ginger smiled as the glass door dinged as she pushed it open with her now free hand from letting her grip from Niall go. The store was lined with shelves on the three walls. The glass windows that let people look in was covered with vintage posters of superheroes and villains. Niall thought he had stepped into hell when all of the shelves were crammed with toys, collectibles, and figures that were in such a disarray that his stomach knotted. Lining the walls and shelves were glass cases that were filled with memorabilia and toys lined the top of the glass. The back of the store was taken over by bags of dice and cards of games that Niall didn’t recognize. The glass case that was home for the register was the neatest spot in the store. The inner shelves were lined with first edition comics that were held in plastic protective sleeves.

Ginger licked her ice cream as she left Niall to his own demise. She thumbed through old comics that were alphabetized. Niall slowly walked around the glass counter to look at the shelves. There was just enough space in this small compacted store for one other person behind the counter. Everything seemed to tower over him. He didn’t understand Ginger’s desire for messy. He wanted things neat and in their place, but Ginger threw her stuff around and called it her “organized mess”.

The one small trinket that stood out to Niall was a Funko pop figure that the company had made into a key chain. It was something he thought Ginger would like and he found it quite funny. He took the key chain off the shelf and carried it around the store, hiding it from Ginger when she would glance at him. Her smile warmed him. He was a lucky guy, finding a woman that liked to be around him and loved him for his antics. He was lucky that even as a global superstar Ginger saw passed the bright lights and money of fame and saw the real Niall. There was never time that he had doubted the intentions of her. She was real in a world dying to fake it out. She was honest in a room full of liars and she was vulnerable in a room full of hardened hearts.

When Ginger turned to leave, Niall smiled as he pushed the glass door open, the small brown bag held in the same hand.

“Whatcha get?” Ginger bit into her waffle cone. The white and black ice cream was smeared on her nose. Niall reached out and wiped the sticky residue with his thumb and tasted the sweetness of her ice cream.

“Nothin’ really, just a souvenir,” Niall smiled as they went into the next shop.

It was a local boutique that had transformed from a printing shop. The brick wall was partially covered with painted stucco. The lilac walls were lined with pictures of various spots of Laurel Springs. The store was filled with a few people, none of which Ginger paid any attention to. She was more concerned with looking at the clothes and listening to the pop music playing. She was humming as Niall followed her around the women’s clothing. She swayed her head back and forth as the songs continued to play. Niall took notice of the few people staring at her…or him- he wasn’t too sure. He kept his head down and watched Ginger hold a yellow flowy shirt. She shrugged her shoulders and put it back on the metal rack. Niall felt out of place, like an ant under a microscope looking for his anthill, but it was worsened when his newest single played over the speakers.

He was afraid Ginger might make a big deal out of it like she does when they’re alone in the car or cooking, but she only smiled to herself as she looked up at him and wiggled her eyebrows.

Niall stood with Ginger’s melting ice cream cone as she tried on various shirts and pants. His favorite was a pair white washed ripped jeans that fit Ginger’s curves just so with the black bleached band tee. She looked beautiful and perfect and he wanted to take her in the middle of the boutique.

When Ginger paid, she threw her half eaten cone in the public trash. Outside the sun was shining and the wind was gently blowing. Ginger drive Niall around to her “famous spots”: where she and her friends hung out regularly, where she had her first kiss, where she started her period. Everything she said, every word she spoke Niall clung to. He was soaking Ginger in like he was a sponge. He wanted to know all of Ginger and she was showing every aspect of her life. Even the parts she didn’t want to show.

It was in a local restaurant where they stopped for a small snack, that a ghost from Ginger’s past appeared. Pushing a flowered stroller was a blonde bombshell that was followed by a small toolset boy and a built man. Ginger’s heart stopped. She felt her face go flush and her legs begin to shake. After all these years, he still was just as handsome as he was in high school.

The small boy tugged the man towards the blonde beauty and when the father looked up, he saw the woman who loved him when he least deserved it.

“Ginger?” the man asked as he stopped at the couple’s table. He balanced a diaper bag on his shoulder.

“Hi Danny,” Ginger smiled. A little too big for Niall’s comfort but he remained silent. There stood the asshole that crushed Ginger’s heart all those years ago. He balled his fist in his lap as his leg bounced.

Ginger stood and embraced Daniel in a hug. He still used the same cologne and it was intoxicating. Her arm rested on his firm bicep before letting go. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. When did you get into town?” Daniel blushed before looking over to his wife who was standing a few feet over from him looking annoyed.

“Just today. We went shopping,” Ginger gestures towards Niall with her hand before becoming embarrassed, “Oh this is Niall, my um….”

“Boyfriend,” Niall stood and shook Daniel’s extended hand firmly. He squeezed his hand enough to know that he was the alpha male. “I’m her boyfriend.” Niall draped his hand over the dip of Ginger’s back, pulling her closer to him.

“I’m Daniel. Ginger’s friend.”

“Yeah, that you were,” Niall remarked, his voice harsh. His brow was furrowed and the grip on Ginger became tighter.

“Um well I better go. Lila is giving me the look,” Daniel awkwardly laughs. He smiles at the two of them, his eyes lingering on Ginger. “Nice seeing you again.”

The couple sit back down at the table and as the server refills the drinks, Ginger’s phone dings.

~~~~~~

“So you’re tellin’ me that you had your first kiss under the bleachers?” Niall and Ginger were standing at the fence of the high school football stadium. It was getting dusk and the two were on the last leg of their journey before going home.

“Yeah well, I thought it was romantic at the time. He was a total killer with his braces,” Ginger laughed. Niall’s hand rested on her back as her phone went off once again.

“Someone’s popular,” Niall said, a bad feeling growing in his stomach.

“Yeah, it’s my friend Taylor… she wants to meet up tomorrow,” Ginger lied.

“Mm.”

~~~~~~

Dinner at the Blake house was everything Ginger described. They went around the table after blessing the food to say what they’re favorite part of their day was. It was Niall stepped inside of a fifties television show.

“Showing Niall around,” Ginger smiled as she took in a bite of her father’s homemade burger. She grabbed another fry off her plate and waved it around. “The comic bookstore looked a little empty.”

“And what about you dear?” Pennie asked. Her graying black hair was pulled into a low bun. Her face done small wrinkles and laughing lines. Niall pictured Ginger looking like this when she aged.

“Meeting you guys,” Niall smiled as Jack clapped his hand on Niall’s back. This was the family he never had, but the secrets he knew was what kept him far away. He couldn’t trust Jack after knowing he cheated on Pennie.

After dinner, Jack and Niall took Texas outside for an evening walk and so they could talk man to man. Ginger and Pennie stayed in the kitchen to wash the dishes.

Pennie hip bumped Ginger whose hands were submerged in soapy water. “He’s a catch, Ginger,” Pennie looked at her daughter and smiled. “Even if…”

“Mama, I- I don’t know what to say. I tried to stop it but…” Ginger trailed off, her voice cracking as tears bellowed up.

“I know, Stella told me. She always overshadowed you and you just let her. Dad and I wanted to help but we felt like this was something you needed to learn,” Pennie rested her head on Ginger’s shoulder. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters, baby girl.”

“Love you, mama.”

~~~~~

“So you dated Stella and now you’re dating my daughter?” Jack pulled out a pack of spitting tobacco as the two men walked down the dirt driveway to walk the family dog. Niall stuffed his hands in his front pockets, trying to concentrate on anything beside this conversation.

“Yeah seems so.” Niall said coldly. He had an issue with Jack simply for the fact that he repeatedly hurt Pennie, a woman he barely knew.

“Were you and Stella together when you and Ginger got together or was it…”

“Sir, no disrespect, but you should be the last one worried about how me and Ginger got together,” Niall huffed. His chest was hot as he thought of Ginger’s phone digging over and over again.

“I see Ginger told you about my past,” Jack breathed in deep, “you probably think I’m a piece of shit, don’t ya?”

“Yes,” Niall was honest with his answer. “If you didn’t want Pennie, why not call off the marriage? Why do that to her and Ginger? Stella?” It was a long minute before Jack answered.

“You see son, sometimes your heart dictates what you want. I wanted Pennie and the other girl. There’s no questioning it. I loved both of them. At the same time, but what I thought I wanted wasn’t what I needed. What I needed was a good ass kicking,” Jack smiles before he continues. “You still love Stella?”

“I care about her, yeah.”

“And you love Ginger?”

“With everything. I actually see myself settling down with her,” he spoke the words he had been feeling for all those quiet months. “She’s my best friend.”

“Ginger is your Pennie. You realize what you needed before things got too messy,” Jack swung his arm over Niall’s broad shoulders. “You make her happy.”

“Yeah…” Niall isn’t too sure about the latter anymore.

~~~~~

Ginger was in the shower when her phone dinged again. Niall was laying in her bed when his curiosity got the best of him. He knows looking leads to heart break but he had to know. He picked up the phone, letting the screen light up and his heart ached as he placed it back on the nightstand. He knew this was too good to be true.

Ginger walked in towel drying her hair. She sat on the bed and leaned to Niall, her lips gently scraping against his beard. “How about that dessert?”

Niall did something he promised himself he would never do. He lied to Ginger.

“Not in the mood,” his voice harsh as he rolled over. The lights cut off and he heard Ginger tapping the screen of her phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~