Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

Can I kiss you?

After Harry and I's video call the other day, I just laid in bed considering my life choices. Questioning how it got here and where the hell I'm going to go next.

My best friend called me at three in the fucking morning that night, in tears because something had come up. Something that would prevent her from being able to go to her Harry Styles concert in Denver.

She's been a blood fan of One Direction since they got on the X-Factor, then all five of them after the band split.

She slowly but surely made me into a fan of them, but there is just something about Harry that draws you in without even having to meet him. Just seeing a video of him is enough, really.

But since she's not going to his show, she gave me the ticket and made me promise to film every second of it. Get him to notice me.

Which is exactly what I did.

She'd told me to wear something slutty, which I shot down right away. She's way too excited for me to go see him when she can't. Just proving that I don't deserve her. But I'm not ever going to let her go.

Which brings me to now.

Harry just went off stage, the last two hours feels like a fever dream. We locked eyes a few times, his eyebrows had shot up in surprise when he recognized me. I honestly didn't think he would.

Sophie convinced me to put my hair in a half-up, half-down style. Silver necklaces resting around my neck, falling into the deep cut V-neck of my pink and blue striped crop top. A pair of tight, high waisted leather pants. Black combat boots on my feet.

The dramatic blue eye make-up and winged liner making my eyes pop, but also look like another person.

I guess the man has a great memory.

I'll never understand how he can perform the way he does. When he's up there, he looks like he's right where he belongs. Like he was meant for it. I have no idea if that's how it feels for him, obviously. I'm not psychic, but it would be pretty sick to be able to know what's going on in people's heads.

I didn't even notice that people had started filing out of the pit, the loud sound of thousands of people screaming, now lowered to a hum of the ones left talking.

I don't notice until a buff security guard waves his hand in front of my face, having been too stuck in my own head to do anything but stare at the spot Harry disappeared after sending me a wink. A fucking wink.

"Miss Adams?"

I snap my head in his direction when he speaks my name. confusion must be written all over my face because his hard features soften a little. Although I can't know for sure due to his mask, I think he's smiling.

"Yeah, that's me.", I breathe, straightening up.

"Mr Styles has requested you."

"I'm sorry, he what?" I can already feel my heart racing. This is some kind of sick joke, right? This doesn't actually happen at concerts. People don't actually get called backstage by the global superstar after his concert is finished.

The security guard who I have yet to learn his name chuckles, "If you just follow me, I'll take you to him."

Without a second thought, knowing if I do, I'll psych myself out of it if I think too much about this, I swing my legs over the fence, jogging after the security guard. The sound of my boots hitting the ground echoing around the nearly empty venue.

I keep my head down as we walk through the building, not meeting the eye of any of the people working here. Too lost in my own head again to take in any of my surroundings.