Hot (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

1

         This was quite a party. My parents knew how to throw one. At least they loved to tell others how they pulled it all together whilst overcoming a major, and I have to add, a nonexistent, adversity.

         I did the work. I called the caterer. I booked the clubhouse. I bought the decorations. I also put them up. No matter, I didn’t particularly want the credit for such a drab gathering.

         My wandering eyes glued to a young, tall man standing next to an older man, presumably his dad, who was staring at me quite intensely through hazel green eyes. He slid his hand in the pocket of his dark trousers that clung to his evidently taut legs. I felt myself stare back and I somehow couldn't stop. My eyes dropped as his teeth grabbed his lower lip, soon followed by his pink tongue, which smoothed over the pinking skin. The right side of his lips lifted into a sly grin. I looked back into his eyes and he brazenly winked at me.

         Suddenly I turned away when I heard my mother call for me. I ran over to her, away from the intense brown haired guy.

         "Now Mr. Ansel this is my daughter, Aria," my mother cooed. I barely refrained from rolling my eyes. I turned to the pudgy and sweaty man, wiping his brows on his handkerchief. I didn’t know people still carried those around.

         “Hello sir,” I politely replied, shaking his greasy hands. It was gross. I could smell his nervousness from being with my nosy and snide mother.

         “W-why hello young lady,” he stammered out.

         “Mr. Ansel, thank you for the donations,” my mother continued, “Your money will be put to good use.” She never did beat around the bush. Everything was black and white to my mother. She just didn't believe in gray.

         “Now, Harry!” she called out somewhere in the clubhouse. “Come here and meet Mr. Ansel, darling!”

         Who the hell was Harry?

         “Oh and my daughter as well,” she added somewhat sullenly.

         My mother seemed to adore this guy. I had never seen her looking so excited. I brushed back my curled hair and tried to focus on what Mr. Ansel had been telling me.

         “C-college is a big d-decision my d-dear,” he murmured. I could barely hear this man. My attention was abruptly diverted when I saw that “Harry” was the young curly haired man that I was staring at previously. I felt my cheeks heating up and thanked the stars that I was tan enough for my blush of embarrassment to be invisible.

         “Mr. Ansel, this is Harry,” my mother interrupted, “he is quite a lovely young man and I’m sure you two will get along famously.”

         Get along famously? What decade was my mother from?

         My gaze scanned Harry from his feet up his crisp black suit and tie, to his clean, fresh face.

I finally looked up at Harry and held back a gasp as he was staring at me, again. Staring quite so intensely too. His hazel green eyes were throwing me off. I wrenched my stare away and, deciding my mother no longer needed me, as she was effectively blocking me from Mr. Ansel, took off in the other direction as fast as my heels would take me.