me after you ; h. styles

daydreams with me.

"What about my dress?" Stella asks, looking down at herself.

They're still standing outside of his front door. Her heart is beating erratically in her chest. She looks at the house, it's beautiful. Yellow. A happy and bright color.  She can see why he'd choose to live here. A beautiful house for a beautiful person. He probably walks around in the mornings, in a robe and a cup of tea in his hand and a book in the other.

"I have something you can borrow," he states smoothly. Stella doesn't know what has come over him. She feels ridiculous when she thinks of the possibility that he might be trying to seduce her because he's drunk and doesn't know what he's doing or saying. Or maybe he just genuinely wants her company. They are friends after all.

Stella laughs, rolling her eyes at him. "You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

Harry also laughs and he unlocks the door clumsily, pushing it open. He lets her step inside first. The first thing Stella notices is the way it smells inside. It smells of vanilla and smells like him. She cannot describe it, but the smell is intensely intoxicating and overwhelmingly ravishing.

He probably owns ridiculously expensive candles and lights them every day.

The light is clicked on and she can see now. At the end of the hall is a set of stairs with pink carpet.

"I love that carpet," Stella comments and he thanks her.

"Would you like some tea?" He asks.

"Can you even make tea with the state you're in now?" She asks jokingly. Harry rolls her eyes.

"Just wait in there," he tells her and points toward a sitting room with a fire place and built in bookshelves. "You can play some music if you'd like."

She can hear his footsteps getting further away as she sits down and sets her heels under the sofa. She looks around, but remains seated. She wants to look at everything around the room closely, but doesn't want to be nosy.

There is an old stereo and record player in the corner of the room. Stella walks over and mumbles to herself, "Alright, let's see what you've listening to lately." She turns on the stereo and music begins to play quietly, but loud enough.

To her surprise, Etta James' voice begins to fill the room and she immediately recognizes the song. It is one of her grandmother's favorites.

Stella can hear Harry in the kitchen. She can hear the stove turning on and running water. A moment later, she can hear his footsteps, but she doesn't know where he's going. Later he returns to the sitting room and leans against the wall.

"There's a bathroom just up the stairs. I left some clothes for you," he says to her in a low voice. Stella can't tell if he's drunk or not anymore.

"Oh, thank you," she says, standing and picking up her dress so it doesn't drag against the floor.

He is suddenly standing beside her. "Stella," he begins slowly. "At the wedding, I..." he pauses to clear his throat. "I wanted to dance with you. I'm sorry I didn't ask you."

"You wanted to dance with me?" She asks, almost in disbelief. He nods. "To be completely honest with you, I would have said no," she tells him. "Not because I wouldn't have wanted to, but because I know a lot of people took your photo tonight. And if they took a photo of you and I, I can see how that would have caused a bit of an annoyance for you online."

"All I heard was that you would have wanted to, I don't care about the rest," he responds.

Stella laughs. He is definitely still drunk. He normally doesn't talk to her this way. At this point she's almost certain he is flirting with her a little. She shrugs. "Well, we are still dressed for the occasion so you can still ask."