Unlikely (H.S.)

twenty-four

~Harry~

The rest of the week passed as if I were in a fever dream. Harper went to work every day, and I followed her on her daily commute, like the puppy dog I am. To be honest, it was refreshing to travel rather anonymously through a city I kind of knew, but was still getting to know. In just this short week, we had created a really great routine that made my heart feel fuller than it had in a really long time.

We'd get up at 6 a.m., lazily make out, and Harper would have to stop it from going any further nearly every day because on Monday morning, I let my morning wood get the best of me. I fucked her on the bathroom counter after watching her brush her teeth. She was late for work that day, and wasn't too pleased with me for that.

Though, the scratches she left on my forearms say otherwise.

The rest of the week was a bubble of bliss. Harper would head to work, I'd spend the day wandering around the city, taking pictures, picking up little things for her—coffee, flowers, or some new vinyl for her collection—and we'd meet back up at her place in the evening like clockwork. The routine was easy, comfortable, and almost domestic in a way that made me forget we were still in the early stages of this. It felt like we'd been doing it for ages, but that nagging question still lingered in the back of my mind.

Would she come on tour with me?

She seemed interested, but there was still this hesitance I couldn't quite shake. And it wasn't like I could blame her. I wasn't exactly offering a low-pressure option. Three weeks on tour was a big ask, especially when things between us were still new and untested.

I couldn't stop thinking about how perfect it could be. Waking up next to her in random cities, showing her my world, the life I'd built.

But am I asking too much too soon?

Friday night finally rolled around, and we'd made plans for sushi at one of her favourite joints. Harper was in the bedroom getting ready, and I couldn't stop watching her as she slipped into a dress that made my dick twitch in my trousers. She caught me staring in the mirror and raised an eyebrow.

"See something you like?" she teased, smoothing the fabric down her hips.

"Very much so," I said, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "Do you need help zipping that up? Because I can think of about a hundred ways I'd love to unzip it later."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You're incorrigible."

"Can't help it," I said, stepping behind her, running my hands down her sides as I kissed the back of her neck. "You look too good. I'll never survive sushi with you looking like that."

She shivered under my touch but turned around, placing her hands on my chest. "Behave yourself, Styles. If you get me all worked up, we'll never leave the apartment, and you promised me sushi!"

"I did promise," I said, pretending to be thoughtful, though my hands were already resting on her hips. "But I can't help it if I'd rather just stay here and..."

She smacked my chest playfully, cutting me off. "Nope. We're going out. But if you're good, I'll let you continue this later."

"You drive a hard bargain," I said, grinning as I stepped back, knowing full well I'd take her up on that promise.

The rest of the night moved easily, flirty banter flowing between us as we walked to the restaurant. Everything with her felt light, fun—like we were dancing around this newness between us, excited but also cautious, unsure of how much we could push without tipping over.