The Things You Mean to Me // Harry Styles Series #1 - Holmes Chapel

All The Stars Align, And You Are By My Side

I changed the sheets, showered, and strategically placed some candles. Romantic, but not corny. I swear. I had no idea how Harry had explained a weekend away to his mom, and I didn't really want to know. He was coming for the next two nights, and that's all that mattered.

My wardrobe was sexy casual. Yoga pants, a tight tank top, and a sweatshirt with the collar cut off, kind of like in that eighties movie Flashdance, falling off one shoulder. I put my hair up into a high, loose ponytail. Harry would like pulling it out and seeing it fall around my shoulders and down my back.

We'd never said the words, but we both knew what was going to happen. We both wanted it to happen. I was nervous, and I'm sure Harry was too. School was out for the long Easter weekend and Dad wouldn't be back until late, so we had until mid-day Monday to figure it all out.

He came through the side gate into the back yard. Smarter not to use the front door; we had a few curious neighbors.

"Hello." He looked very young and shy all of a sudden, chin tucked in, trying to hide a grin.

"Hello." I felt very young and shy all of a sudden, smiling , eyes lowered. "Come in?"

He dropped his backpack at the foot of the stairs, a quiet reminder that this wasn't a usual visit.

We had pizza delivered, and watched a bad movie – but not Titanic. As the final credits rolled he turned to me, nuzzling his face in the crook of my neck and shoulder, pulling me even closer.

"You smell so good."

He began to nibble and suck on the soft flesh.

"You taste so good. You feel so good."

His hand had made its way up under my sweatshirt. I gave a contented sigh before swinging over to straddle him, bringing his face to mine.

I felt him, pressing between my thighs, and a warmth began to build in me.

"Harry, there's something I want to try. Come upstairs."

As he stood, his excitement was obvious. He seemed like such a little boy, standing there looking down at himself, cheeks pink and pinching his lower lip. Like a little boy, but not embarrassed, not shy. He gave me a cheeky grin, "I'm game. Shall we?"

We got naked as soon as we were in my room. It was amazing how comfortable it was being naked with him. He had told me that he liked being naked for being naked's sake. I was ok with that.

I pushed him down into my giant beanbag chair, where he leaned back, hands behind his head, spreadeagled, ready for whatever I had in mind.

When I kneeled between his legs, hands on his thighs, his eyes widened and I saw his pupils dilate.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely."

~

I wasn't experienced, but I was eager, and that seemed to be good enough. It was quick, surprising both of us as he let out a "bloody hell" and did his thing. Afterwards he teased me about the startled look on my face. I couldn't imagine other boys I knew being so comfortable talking, much less joking, about that stuff. Harry was kind of the best.

I wasn't sure at first if I wanted him to return the favor, but kind of like that first kiss, we gave it a try, just to see. I don't know what he did, but I liked it. A lot. Next thing you know I was the one whispering "holy shit."

He looked so damn proud, smiling ear to ear, as he came to lie next to me. It was adorable. We fell asleep for a while, waking up when I slipped off the beanbag.

That night was the first time I shared a bed with a boy. He said he thought he'd like to be the little spoon, so he bundled up on his side and I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into the nape of his neck, the curls tickling my cheeks.

We actually slept well, waking to a grey and rainy dawn. A good day to stay tucked indoors. We didn't get out of bed until nearly noon, revisiting some things, both hesitant to move forward. It would happen when it happened.

I know most people won't believe it, but we actually got a lot of homework done that day. Harry made soup and sandwiches for lunch, and I cooked pesto chicken for dinner. We watched Saving Private Ryan, and both of us cried.

When we went back upstairs Harry excused himself for a few minutes and I decided to work on a little mood setting. I had made a playlist for this, which I put on softly. The fairy lights around my window made a nice glow. Nothing over the top or corny. I took off my clothes and thought about waiting naked in some sexy pose, but that really wasn't me. To pass the time I took a peek in Harry's backpack, which he had left wide open.

I was lying in bed with his White Eskimo t-shirt on when he came back in.

"That's twice now you've worn it. It suits you. You can keep it. I'd like it if you did."

"Thank you. Will you come lie down next to me?" He did. "Harry, you're kind of beautiful. There's something about your eyes – if only you saw what I can see - something about the shape and how they always look like you've just opened them to find that it's a beautiful day."

"That's quite lovely. Your eyes look just like big blueberries. That sounds foolish, I guess, but it's true. Dark blue and violet, like pools to drown in, but there's a light in them that lifts me back up. Do you know, I think I've been idolizing the light in your eyes, Olivia..." He sighed.

We just lay there for a few minutes, extolling each other's physical traits. Mouths, noses, those dimples, his fascinating extra nipples, my eyebrows – which were evidently perfect. It was ridiculous and wonderful. And then he commented on what most boys noticed first.

"They're a lovely place to nap."

That was it. A lovely place to nap. I loved him.

"Harry?"

"Mmm?"

"I love you." I couldn't believe I'd said it.

"That's so nice. Mostly because I love you, too."

And that was that.

~

We fumbled our way through the first time like millions of others. It was awkward, a little painful, but ultimately just fine. In the morning's light there was almost no evidence, just a trace of innocence on the pillowcase.

And, like so much else in life, it got better with practice.

As Harry packed his bag late Monday morning, I decided I should probably know.

"Harry, what did you tell your mom? About where you were going this weekend?"

"I told her I was going to my dad's."

"Aren't you worried she might call or something and find out you're not there?"

"Nah, Dad's in on it."

"What? Your dad knows you've been here, with me, alone, for the weekend?"

"He does. Proud of his son. Becoming a man. All that. Even bought me the supplies."

"Well, ok then."

"Before I go, can I sing in the bathroom for you? I've chosen my two songs."

"Please!"

He sounded great, for listening through the bathroom door.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Can I please come in? Will you please try to sing with me there?"

Silence.

"Harry?"

The door opened, and he let me in. He wouldn't face me, but he sang. He sang, and I knew in my heart and soul that he was going to make it.