Heat - Harry Styles

twenty-three

I haven't edited this yet so sorrrrrry if there are any errors! I just wanted to get this up for you guys ASAP. Please don't forget to vote and comment!!!

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It amazes me that Harry is able to keep calm when there are dozens of cameras in his face. When I see a camera all I get is flashbacks to horrible photos from middle school dances and unfortunate, drunk photo booth picture strips. One time when Charlotte came to visit me over in Paris, she took a – now infamous – photo of me on top of a bar dancing with a man who couldn't have been any younger than seventy-five. A cringeworthy beret sat on top of my head like the cherry on top of an overpriced sundae. He apparently misread the vibe, wrinkly lips moving towards mine in slow motion, hoping for a kiss. I've never run away faster. We left him with our tab and everything.

But this situation was much different than a drunk night at the bar or a bad yearbook photo. There will be no hiding away these photos. They are destined to see the light of day – or at least the blue light of a computer screen. Like them or not, the photos that are taken of Harry and I tonight will exist forever – out there in the ether for anyone to see.

Now that's a scary thought.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I have absolutely no clue how to do my own hair, so I employed Louisa to do it for me before I came over to Harry's house. She gave me a big, bouncy blowout – you know, like one of those looks you'd see on a 1990s supermodel? Now that I'm looking in the mirror in Harry's bathroom, I can't help but wonder if it's a bit too much. Don't get me wrong, Louisa did a great job. I'm just not just completely sure if I can pull it off. There's nothing I can do about it now though, so I just go back to fiddling with my earrings.

Before I can finish putting on my jewelry, I feel Harry's strong hands snaking around my waist. My back meets the hard surface of his chest and I swear I melt into his touch. I've never really seen Harry workout, but he somehow maintains a muscular physique. He buries his nose into my hair and inhales deeply.

"Are you smelling my hair, you weirdo?" I giggle.

"You know I'm a sucker for your shampoo," he says breathlessly. He took another deep breath and I felt his arms go lax around me. I turn around slightly to see him walking back out of the bathroom, heading to finish getting dressed.

"I actually didn't know that," I call towards him. "You've never told me that before."

"I never liked lavender until I smelled it on you," he confesses from the other room, causing me to flush pink. I grin wordlessly and begin applying my blush, although when I'm with Harry, I don't really need the artificial stuff.

Whatever I am buying, I always tend to purchase the lavender scent. Perfume, candles, shampoo, laundry detergent – you name it. Mims, in all of her gardening prowess, is one of the only people in the world to have figured out how to successfully grow lavender in Charleston. The climate is all wrong for a delicate plant like lavender. It needs drier conditions, much drier than my hot and humid little city can offer. And the soil isn't any good either – the wetlands have brought in far too much clay. But Mims, Mims has been able to cultivate a beautiful family of lavender bushes. She has always said that the two of us are like lavender bushes. On paper we shouldn't thrive in this sweltering city but with a little cultivation, we will always find a way to bloom. I've always wanted to find a little house on a corner in my sweet city and cover the entire yard in lavender. Who knows? Maybe I'll even slap a coat of light purple paint on the siding while I'm at it.

"Are you nervous for tonight?" Harry calls from his bedroom. He is now spread horizontally across his bed, feet dangling off the side, bobbing up and down like a little boy.

"No," I lied. "I guess I've had more than enough time to prepare for it."

"You can never really be prepared for this, Sloane," he sighs. I can tell that he doesn't really believe me, but I'm thankful that he doesn't push the issue further. Sometimes the best way for me to get over my nerves is to just pretend they aren't there at all. "I'm sorry I have to put you through it, but I do think it's going to be the best for us in the long run. We can finally go out and not have to worry about anything."

"It's definitely for the best. Besides, it's not like there are a ton of paparazzi in Charleston anyways. It's way too hot here for them to sit outside of your house all day."

"You'd be surprised how far they'll follow me," he chuckles, "and those guys will do some absolutely insane things for a couple of zoomed-in, grainy photos."

A comfortable but heavy silence falls between us. The feeling in the air is something between the one you get before a big sports championship and when you get sent to the principal's office... excitement tainted by fear.

"Who knows," he begins, "we've been playing pretty low so we might even make it out lucky tonight and just have some sneaky iphone shots and fan photos. That would make our entrance into the public eye a little easier."

"I think that's what Louisa would call a soft launch," I laugh.

"Would taking you to the Grammys after hiding you away for months be a hard launch then? Maybe we should just cancel our reservation tonight and wait for award's season. I might be able to get a plus one," he teases.

"Shut up," I say, throwing my makeup brush at him as I leave the bathroom.

* *

So far, so good. We've officially made it out of the car, into the restaurant, and I have a big glass of red wine in front of me. I could tell that the waiter knew exactly who Harry was because assured him that it was the finest French red on the menu. Harry shot me a wink and joked that tonight's occasion might call for champagne. Little did our waiter know, the two of us had gotten used to drinking shitty pinot grigio straight out of the bottle during our evenings in the park. To be honest, I didn't really care what was in front of me as long as it got there quickly. With all the stares we are getting tonight, I really need to keep the alcohol flowing in order to calm my nerves.

"I didn't know you knew the hostesses here," Harry notes absentmindedly as he flips through his dinner menu. "I'm sorry, I could've picked somewhere else. I don't want you to feel like you're being watched even more than you already are."

"It's fine," I wave him off. "Charleston is a small town. I'll know someone wherever we go. Besides, that girl wasn't the nicest to me in high school. I'm kind of glad I get to show you off tonight."

"Oh, so is that what this is all about? You've just been playing the long game so you can show off to all of your hometown bullies?" he jests.

"Exactly," I feign exhaustion, "I'm so glad we're finally on the same page so I can stop pretending to like you."

"I know you don't like me, Sloane," he says with a sly look in his eyes. "You love me."

I blush and lean towards him, wanting desperately to be closer to him. My skin is hot from where his knee is brushing up against my inner thigh. I grab his hands from across the table and squeeze them three times, my own way of letting him know that I love him.

I'm almost completely lost in the intimate moment before the flash of a camera interrupts my thoughts. I look to my left and am met with the bright red face of a girl who couldn't be much older than Louisa. She had tried to sneak a photo of us, but my best guess was that she forgot to turn her flash off.

I shrink back in my chair, feeling small under the gaze of so many people. Harry squeezes my hand three times and brings it up to his lips, leaving soft kisses against my knuckles.

"Soft launch, right?" he grins.

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