All My Love || Harry Styles

Chapter 33

As the doors slide open at the ground level, Harry quickly pulls on his hoodie, tugging the hood up over his curls.

"Going incognito?" I tease, catching his subtle attempt at disguise.

He smirks, shrugging. "Just don't fancy getting mobbed tonight. Want to keep this walk between us."

"Smart thinking," I comment, approaching the front desk. I question the staff member if they might have any hoodies in lost and found. After a brief search, he reemerges, holding a neatly packaged hoodie. "We don't have any in lost and found, but we'd be delighted if you wore one of our hotel's hoodies," he offers, extending it to me.

I unwrap it and slip on the black hoodie, appreciating the unexpected warmth. It's oversized, hanging almost to mid-thigh, giving it an effortlessly casual, dress-like appearance. "Thanks," I reply with a genuine smile, adjusting the hood over my hair.

Harry's voice carries a hint of admiration as he watches me return. "How is it that you manage to make even a hotel hoodie look sexy?" he inquires with a playful glint in his eye.

I shoot him a smirk, adjusting the oversized fabric. "It's all about the confidence," I quip, giving a little twirl to show off my 'new look'.

His laughter is light, infectious. "Clearly, I've been wearing hoodies wrong all this time."

With a playful nudge, I respond, "Well, maybe you just need some lessons. Lucky for you, I might be available for a tutorial."

Harry smirks, taking a step closer. "Is that an invitation?" His voice is low, teasing, but the atmosphere between us is unmistakably charged.

The air suddenly feels thick, each of our playful exchanges adding another layer to the tension building between us. The city's ambient noises fade into the background, leaving just the two of us in our shared moment.

"Yeah," I murmur, my voice barely louder than a whisper. "Maybe it is."

For a moment, we simply stand there, two figures enveloped in the night, lost in each other.

A distant car horn snaps us back to reality, breaking the trance. Harry grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Before we get too caught up, shall we take that walk?"

I nod, grateful for the distraction, yet secretly longing for more of those electric moments. "Lead the way, Mr. Styles."

With a playful salute, Harry begins to lead us towards Central Park. As we walk, the stark city lights start to fade into the background, replaced by the gentle glow of streetlamps illuminating the park's entrance.

As we step onto the familiar pathways, the rustling trees and soft chirping of night creatures surround us. The skyscrapers, with all their imposing majesty, seem distant, as if they're from another world.

We walk a little farther, and the gentle sounds of water from the Bethesda Terrace fountain reach our ears. My pace slows, and Harry, sensing my hesitation, looks over with a questioning gaze.

"This place," I begin, my voice soft with nostalgia, "reminds me of my dad. We used to come here when I was a kid."

Harry's expression softens. "Yeah?"

I smile, the memories flooding back. "Every weekend, rain or shine, Dad would take me for a walk through Central Park. We had our little ritual. We'd always stop by this ice cream cart just around the corner," I point to where the familiar cart still stands, even at this hour. "I'd always get a double scoop of mint choc chip, and he'd get his ever-faithful vanilla."

I can't help but chuckle, "Sounds so plain, but he loved it. Said it was the 'true test of an ice cream stand'."

Harry laughs, "Trustworthy vanilla."