The Maiden in Winter // Harry Styles Series #4

SIXTEEN

~A~

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

There it was, the heat, the blush, flaming up my chest and neck to my cheeks, maybe even to my ears. Damnit. I couldn't look at him. I felt like I was seventeen again. This was ridiculous.

I looked him in the eye. "That's not easy for me to hear, or believe."

"Why don't you believe it?"

"Harry, I know what I look like, and I've seen enough pictures to know what kind of women have been in your life. Actresses, models, they're the beautiful ones."

"Do you have a personal trainer?"

"No."

"Do you have a professional stylist at your disposal?"

"Of course not."

"Have you had any sort of cosmetic surgery, fillers, implants?"

"I would hope that's a pretty obvious no."

"Do you spend thousands of dollars a month and hours every day making yourself look a certain way?"

"Don't be ridiculous, I don't have the money or time for that. I wouldn't want to even if I did."

He sat back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest, a satisfied look on his face. "There, you see? They all do those things. Oli-" He stopped and frowned, then nodded his head almost imperceptibly before going on. "Olivia was masterful when it came to it. She'd spend an hour just making herself look like she hadn't done a thing. Spend an hour choosing something to wear that looked like she grabbed whatever was on the top of the pile. So much artifice, and I fell for it."

I was silent, stunned by this unsolicited glimpse into his most private life.

"The thing is, Alex, I've done it too." He rubbed the nape of his neck with one hand and began to roll his bottom lip with the other. He was obviously sharing something very uncomfortable with me, and I didn't want this to be an uncomfortable evening.

"You don't have to say any more. I believe that who you are right this minute - and when you come to the store, and when you're in the pool with Bean – is the real you. And if you think I'm beautiful, just as I am, right this minute, then thank you."

We sat in silence until the first course arrived, local oysters and a wild mushroom tarte, which we shared between us. Conversation moved to lighter subjects: his plethora of tattoos versus my complete lack thereof, Bean's disastrous science fair project that involved three tadpoles gaining their legs and escaping the tank never to be seen again, his sadness that his lifestyle didn't allow him to have a pet.

The main course came out as soon as the first plates had been cleared. Harry had assured me he didn't particularly care what other people ate around him; he just preferred a pescatarian diet for himself. My quail was delicious, and he said that his lobster was the same.

As we ate, I glanced at George, who was having a bar dinner and seemed to be flirting  lightly with Hannah. 

"Does George have a girlfriend?"

Harry chuckled, "Everywhere we go. He knows that most of them are trying to get at me through him, but he doesn't seem to care. He's well-paid, travels the world, and is frequently surrounded by women. He's happy."

"He should definitely come into the Fluke and have a drink with us the next time we go. Lisha will love him." I stopped, wondering if I'd assumed too much. "That is, if you'd like to go back. With me."

"I would, and I'll tell George he needs to stay in the bar, you know, just in case there's a problem." He looked at me conspiratorially, "He hates being set up. Says he prefers it to happen 'naturally,' which it always seems to do."