- NOT COMPLETE -
When struggling waiter, Harry Styles, meets college student, Daisy Miller, it seems that all's well that ends well.
Well, from the outside, anyways.
While being a waiter, Harry is also the guardian to his two younger siblings when...
Harry comes from behind the door of the bathroom, his pants sparkling in the evening light as I'm laying on the bed and waiting for him to get ready. The air in the afternoon has exuded extreme tense energy, and I've done nothing to try to level it.
There's really nothing I can do. Mostly because I think it's a mixture between nervous, anxious, tense, but moreso, excited.
Harry wants this to be good– he knows it has to be good. The show had been rehearsed so much with Harry as the stand-in, and they even asked to play a few of his songs to fill a bit of the space that they had. It meant that Harry's work was going to be played in front of people for the first time, and I know that caused even more butterflies.
"You look amazing in anything, I don't know why you continue to think you don't," I tell him, with a bit of a shake in my head. It's hard for someone to be able to pull off gold trousers, and as I'm looking at him, he looks like he could walk into any stadium and play an entire discography of music.
It's matched with a sheer black top that he's left a few buttons undone, his cross necklace hanging in the middle of the parted buttons. It's entirely too much, but just enough at the same time. He's pushed his hair back slightly, setting off of his face.
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He's making the part of rockstar work for him, and that's what he needed to do to be able to bring him a bit of confidence. If he looks good, he feels good.
"Speaking of looking good," Harry's eyes navigate down my body as he starts making his way towards the edge of the bed where I'm starting to pull the boots up my calves, "Baby, where has this been hiding?"
I stand up to make sure that the boots feel right on my feet, but his hands reference the leather corset top that hugs around to form the shape of my body quickly. I'm pulled in by his touch on my waist, the force bringing our chests together. It's plain black and paired with a cream skirt that sits low in my hips. The tall black boots sat along my legs while the skirt was just a last minute grab from my closet.
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