Misunderstood (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter Four

"No thanks needed, love," Harry murmured with a crooked smile. 

"Leah, do you want to come out to eat with us and the lads tonight?" Kate vuagely heard Louis utter a question to her best friend. She looked at Harry again, who's eyes had been on her since the introductions. 

"What hotel are you staying at?" he questioned her. 

"Mmm, I think The Connaught. I'm not sure, though, I didn't book it. My manager did." 

"Strange, us too!" Kate smiled. She figured there would be little downtime at the hotel, and when there way, it would be filled with five boys' company. 

Back at the hotel, the girls were unpacked, and Kate had just gotten out of the shower.

Kate bounded down the hallway, long blonde hair flouncing behind her. She was dressed in a simple grey sweater and leggings. She greeted Leah in the condominium and perched atop the kitchen counter, crossing her legs and plucking a piece of cubed watermelon from the bowl in between them. 

"What's for dinner?" she asked Leah, who shrugged with a blank expression. 

"We could call for Chinese," Kate suggested but Leah shook her head. 

"Nah," the brunette got up and went to the fully stocked fridge provided by Kate's father. "The boys invited you- I mean- us to dinner with them. I forgot to tell you." 

"Sounds good to me," Kate responded, getting off of her perch upon the counter. "We'd better change, though. And maybe ask where we're going.." 

 "Mhm, they gave me their room number. They're on this floor, down the hall, I think..." 

"I'll go check if you want to get ready, what's their room number?" 

"467" 

"Be right back!" I called and the door fell shut behind me. I made my way down the long hallway, counting off numbers as I wandered. 464, 465, 466, 467. 

I rapped on the door three times, waiting for answer. 

"Just a minute!" a british timbre called back. I stood outside the door, staring at my bare feet. I really needed a pedicure, I noted. Just then, the door opened, and I looked up to see none other than the famous Harry Styles clad in nothing but a small white towel tied around his waist. His hair was raining droplets every few seconds and his chisled stomach glistened with the water of the shower. Breath hitched in my throat, I tried my best to stop staring at his muscles. 

I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes. I had no makeup on, and was suddenly self conscious of how ratty I must look. Unbrushed, damp, locks of hair, oversized sweater with nothing but leggings and an unmade face. 

He grinned at me.

"Couldn't wait to see me again, hm?" he teased, making me smile. I forgot all my troubles then. Worrying about my looks slipped right through the cracks of my mind. 

"Actually, Styles, I just came to see where you wanted to go to dinner, assuming the offer is still valid?" I smirked at him. 

"Of course it is! We were thinking somewhere nicer than not. So nobody would really bother us. Did you girls bring nice clothes?" 

"How nice are we talking here?" I questioned as he leaned against the door frame. "Ball gown or skirt and nice blouse?" 

"Hm, neither. Go nude." he winked at me and I was absolutely taken aback.

I composed myself, retorting, "Only if you do," 

"Love, there's only one thing I need to remove," he gestured to the towel again and I peeked up at him, flames burning holes in my cheeks. 

"So, skirt it is, then," I averted my eyes to the floor with a smile. 

"Be ready in two hours?" 

"Sure, that's perfect." suddenly he reached out and gallantly kissed my hand, and I let out a miniature giggle. 

"See you at seven, my lady," and with that, he shut the door. I stood in the hall, momentarily shocked by how charming he could be. I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised, him being America's heartthrob and all.