#nervousharry

AHHHH OKOK HERE I GO. it's been YEARS since i've published anything i've written pls be nice i'm a nervy gal. here's the mess that is estella and harry.

word count: 600+

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Harry didn’t like coming to places like this. 

Music blared. Alcohol reeked. Drunk people shouted. His ears rang. Even tipsy, Harry hated clubs – even this one, which advertises “erotic experiances” on the website. In reality, it was a sex club with more clothes and fewer people fucking in front of you. It was a soft introduction to a real sex club. 

Harry only came because Niall begged him to. His girlfriend, Amelia, was dancing tonight. As impressive a performer as she was, it still felt weird watching your best mate’s girl strip on stage. Let alone tuck a few bills into her waistband. 

That’s not Harry.   

“What’s with the miserable look?” Niall laughed, one arm lazily wrapped around Amelia’s waist. 

Harry swirled the three ice cubes in his whiskey glass. “Told you m’not the biggest fan of clubs.” He quickly looked at Amelia. “Nothing against you, of course.”

“No offense taken, H” She giggles, spinning the straw in a fruity drink. “Most of us don’t like it either. 

“You should introduce him to Es!” Niall said, suddenly excited. 

Amelia beams. “You are so smart! They’ll love each other.” She turned to Harry quickly, eyes sparkling with excitement. “She’s another dancer – super sweet, hell of a performer, and like…annoyingly hot”

Before Harry can protest or say no, Amelia pulls him out of his seat and toward the backstage hallway, chattering about Estella – “or Es, or Essie, depending on the day.” In all honesty, Harry wasn’t listening. The hallway spun slightly, the music falling behind them, and his anxiety growing ahead of him. 

He’d heard of Estella before. A friend of Niall’s from uni. They fooled around a bit, supposedly before Amelia came around. That’s all he knew.

Backstage, the energy was different. Glittery heels clicked past, the walls buzzed with a mix of cheap and expensive perfume and low voices. The two turn around a corner and Amelia knocked gently on a door.

“Essie? I’ve got someone for you to meet!”

She stood in front of a floor-length mirror, lashes halfway on. She looked like velvet. Like a flickering flame. Like every dream Harry wished for but never admitted to having. 

“This is Harry,” Amelia smiles, a knowing look on her lips. What she knows? Harry’s clueless. “You two…will get alone just fine.”

Then, she was gone, the sound of the dressing room door clicking shut. 

“Hi there,” She extends a manicured hand. Soft pink nail polish with an almond shape, making Harry feel insecure about his chipping and awfully painted black polish. “I’m Estella. Or Es. Or Essie.”

Harry laughed nervously, taking her hand. “I’m Harry. Or, H.”

Her robe was black silk, trimmed with fluff. Her socks were pink and frilly, lace tickling her ankles. Her eyeshadow glittered like pink champagne. And Harry…he couldn’t stop staring. 

“You were…amazing tonight,” he blurts, cheeks red once he realizes he’s said his thoughts out loud. 

“Thank you, Sweetheart.” She smiled, sweet and lethal. “So…what’s a quiet guy like you doing here?”

Smiled. She's...smiling? 

Harry sat without a second thought when she tapped the seat beside her. “You caught me,” He laughs nervously. “This isn’t...quite my scene. Niall dragged me here for…inspiration?” He couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Maybe he was a little drunk, but the way her lips moved while she was talking was like a moth to a flame. He couldn’t stop watching. 

“Inspiration for what exactly?” Her brow quirked, a subtle look Harry wouldn’t have noticed if he wasn’t three glasses of whiskey in. He can’t take his eyes off her, the subtle sheen of her skin, the way her lashes reached her eyebrows, the sweet and defined point of her cupid’s bow.

“Uh… music. I write music.” He nodded, offering a smile that was both sheepish and practiced. It was technically true, though he couldn’t help the flicker of disappointment that she didn’t seem to recognize him. Given her history with Niall, he’d assumed she might. 

But whiskey always had a way of making him more vulnerable than he wanted to be.

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click here for the second part if i sparked your interest :)

harry: nice hair baby girl