15 Years // harry styles

chapter twenty five

B

"I still don't get why we can't go on the red carpet. Red carpets are fun," Rose sighs from the row in front of us.

Harry squeezes my hand before saying "we just can't Rose, okay?"

She sighs again but agrees, even though I can see her looking longingly at the cameras flashing at various celebrities when we drive by.

The driver pulls around the back of the hotel, nodding towards a large black door. Lou and Rose slide out of the car first, Harry pushing the seats forward and helping me out after them. He holds my hand as he leads me to the door, the only sound in the hallway when we get inside being the pat of our shoes on the carpet.

I can hear the bustle of people behind doors as we pass them, but Harry leads me along confidently so I don't hesitate. I can tell he's scanning the many faces around us, so I squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Guys! Can we take one here?" Rose pulls on my other hand, over towards a small mock red carpet inside the hall made of left over materials. Lou rolls his eyes but agrees, flagging over a worker and kindly asking them to take it. Harry pulls me close to him as we pose, and I barely pull my eyes away from him to smile before the man takes our picture. My head is spinning from everything for no apparent reason.

"You ready?" Harry's voice is still cautious as we begin to head to the ballroom down the hall where people have begun to shuffle in. I nod, letting him lead me inside.

The decor is more modern than I expect, with elegant black tablecloths covering round tables, fairy lights hanging from the ceiling, and many red flowers scattered around in decoration. There's a large dance floor in the middle of the space, composed of shiny black tiles, which reflect the lights dangling above them.

The smell of food is enticing, and I scan the long tables of food for Lydia, but I can't find her, so I hold tight to Harry's hand as he leads me to a table. He pulls out my chair for me before sitting beside me, still scanning the unfamiliar faces.

"Harry, he's still locked up. We're fine," I whisper, leaning into him slightly and kissing his cheek. It seems to relax him, his muscles loosening under his jacket.

We pass the time before the first course by talking about the tour, listening to Rose talk about her favorite music festivals and Louis giving updates on Freddie's favorite food of the week. When the plates of salad come they're welcomed by our grumbling stomachs, and we fall somewhat silent.

The night flows just as it should, our tongues loosening with champagne, four more courses and laughter, until the tables have been cleared and the soft music begins to blanket itself over the murmur of voices.

Harry smiles smugly before standing up, offering me a hand.

"May I have a dance?"

I can feel the blush in my cheeks and Rose's eyes on me as I stand, letting him lead me to the dance floor as others head out to it as well.

"Don't trip on my dress," I murmur, smirking up at him as he places his hands on my waist, my hands automatically going up around his neck. I twirl my fingers in the curls there gently, the feeling calming my nerves.

"I'm quite the dancer, thank you very much," he says, pulling me closer to him, making me gasp. His thumbs are on the small sliver of skin between the pieces of my dress, and they feel like hot branding irons.

"I still can't believe you made me come to this."

"Technically, I didn't make you come," he refutes.

"You bought me $700 dress and left me a note. And told Rose to make sure I came. You totally made me come."

"False."

"True."

"False."

I sigh. "We're really bad at this romance thing. Isn't this that time when couples are supposed to feel each other's embrace and be in complete bliss?"

Harry's eyes are warm when I look up at him, pools of emerald analyzing me closely. "Whose to say I'm not in bliss?"

I can't find words to answer, so I simply press my cheek to his chest and let him sway us back and forth to the soft piano song, closing my eyes and soaking in the warmth of his skin through his button up.

I don't know how long I stay there, but I don't look up until Harry speaks.

"B, I wanted to ask you some-"

"Bailey? Bailey Conrad?"

I perk up at the unfamiliar voice, Harry's movements stopping as we turn and see a boy about our age approaching. He looks so familiar, but it can't be. Harry leaves one protective hand still firm on my waist as the boy reaches us.

"Quinton? Quinton Reed? No way!" I exclaim, suddenly recognizing the brunette boy in front of me. He's tall and thin, a bit lanky even in his suit. He nods, beaming and pulls me in for a hug. I can still feel Harry's hand on my back.

"Do you care if I steal her for a dance man? I promise I'll only take one."

Harry looks down at me skeptically, but I nod up at him, signally that it's okay. He clears his throat and kisses my temple for good measure before letting me go and heading back to the table where Rose and Louis are still sitting, somewhat reluctantly.

There's much more distance between Quinton and I as we dance, and he's not nearly as elegant as Harry, but we manage to sway along the dance floor.

"So, looks like we both made it out of Georgia," Quinton smiles. A sudden image of us playing on the monkey bars  as kids on the few trips I made back to Georgia with Lydia flash through my mind, and old photographs of my parents with his parents.

"Yeah, I'm a flight attendant now, so I don't spend too much time here but I wanted to move to the city," he explains. "So how are you?"

"I'm doing good! What about you?"

"I'm good, my dad's still working out West so I'm all alone up here. You, however don't seem to be alone. Is that who I think it is?" He flicks his eyes over towards Harry.

I look over to find him glaring at Quinton in a way I've never seen, making me swallow the lump in my throat and look back at Quinton with a smile.

"That's exactly who you think it is."