Benighted Green Eyes [h.s]

Preface

This is not at all how I thought tonight would go. I think that should be self explanatory. When someone tells you "That shirt is so going to make him notice you!" when you're about to go to a concert, all involved know it's not actually true. But something about the shimmer in the silver, the low-cut seam, the way it framed my body, I guess it just made this man go wild. The way his hand is roaming dangerously high on my thigh right now, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric in my black ripped jeans, confirms my theory.

It all happened before I knew it. At first I was in the front row, singing along to my favorite hidden songs to my favorite hidden singer, and the next thing I know I'm on stage swaying with him as he serenades me.

It all started when he locked eyes with me. Cheesy, I know, but I swear I'm telling the truth.

I was dancing in a crowd of people I didn't know, but it was like I knew everyone there. It didn't matter that two hours ago we had been strangers, we were now all best friends holding hands as Harry sang on stage. It was a small room we were in; only a couple hundred people could fit comfortably in here. I got there early to get front and center, and thanks to my dedicated and love of the warm California weather, I made it.

Harry is fairly new in the world of music as far as the public is concerned. He's had a few major hits, but really only so many people know about his talent, which as bad as it sounds, I kinda like.

It's nice having something you are so passionate about kept so secret.

Every so often throughout the show, Harry would look in my direction. I thought I was going crazy, and I didn't think much of it. I was sure he was looking at everyone else the same way.

That was until he knelt down on stage and stretched his hand out to me, pulling me on stage. I have no idea why he did this, but I didn't have time to dwell on it because as soon as I get on my feet, he's pulling me a little closer, just so that his arm isn't stretching to hold my hand, and he starts dancing. Obviously I follow suit, and before I know it I'm laughing like crazy, having the time of my life on stage with Harry Styles, singer, songwriter, and apparently pro dancer.

He spun me around as he hummed into the mic, constant screams flowing my ears as other girls swoon, no more than I am. It's the point in the show where is hair is falling in his face, he's slightly delirious, and everyone has loosened up, having the time of their lives. It's the best damn time I've ever had. Well, that is until now.

After the show things kinda sped up, big time. I don't think he ever let go of my hand after he somehow found me again after the show. He led me backstage, and after several turns and doorways he led us both out to a waiting car parked out back. He only brushed a few hurried words in my ear as I crawled in the backseat, giving no regard to who this man is off-stage, or where the hell we're going.

"Fancy a little fun?"

My sister better be proud of me after tonight.

"Hell yeah." is all I say in return, focusing on his fingers grazing my skin, the heat from his hand warming my thigh.

I find my arms start to wrap around his, bringing us closer together. All he does is smile in return, the "having the time of your life" smile. I can feel the butterflies beating against my rib cage. I take a second to catch my breath. Up until now it's been a whirlwind of moving from one thing to another, but now, sitting in the backseat intertwined with him, I can take a minutes and let it all sink in, and focus on not freaking out that I'm with Harry Styles right now.