a/n: hi, guys! this is dedicated to @xlottiex for her absolutely amazing comments that have made me want to explode. and 10,000 reads, wow! that's amazing, thank you! this chapter feels so short and unrewarding for such a great accomplishment so i'll try to write the next one asap. by the way, i have a CRUCIAL QUESTION for you all: would you rather a sad ending with a sequel or a happy ending with no sequel? i'm not sure what i'll do but i want an opinion from you guys. at the side is the is let her go by passenger. if you like this chapter, vote & comment!
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CHAPTER EIGHT
“Harry, I swear to God.”
A pair of dark-red glasses rested on the bridge of the idiot’s nose, a piece of scotch tape taping the middle together. His hair was gelled back, a large tuft of it gelled to the side. He wore a dress shirt and dark brown tie under a patterned vest. His legs were clad in jeans the same color as the tie. The look was finished off with a geeky yet cute smile.
At first, this was amusing to Lily—cute, even. But now ‘Marcel’ was just annoying her.
Harry only laughed. “Everyone in the studio seemed to love Marcel,” he said. In a geeky voice he asked, “Why don’t you?”
“Because unlike them, I’ve spent two hours with Marcel and he gets annoying after a while."
Harry put on a pouty face as he spoke in his nasally voice, “This is just like high school. All the cool cats used to make fun of me. Oh, I’m sorry, L-Lily. I guess I’m not cool enough for—”
“Harry—”
“Marcel,” he corrected.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“You’re far too sweet to do that, baby cakes.”
“Baby cakes? Marcel says baby cakes?”
“Wh-hy, yes I do.”
“Dear God.”
The two of them burst out laughing, which had happened multiple times in the past hour as Harry acted out his Marcel. He’d returned from the final shoot of the music video for Best Song Ever in his costume and decided to bother Lily.
The laughter died down after a few moments. Harry took off his glasses and spoke in his regular voice, saying, “But seriously, the extras in the video seem to love Marcel. Maybe I should go to the ball as him.”
The mention of the ball brought memories of Lily and Eleanor's dress-shopping rendezvous. She bit her lip as she agreed, “Maybe.”
“By the way, how did dress shopping go with Eleanor?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Did you get a nice dress?"
“Uh, yeah—but when we were driving home El told me not to show you it so you can be wowed when I put it on with my makeup and everything." If only Eleanor knew that Lily couldn’t truly wow Harry, only her fiancé could do that.
“Well, you wow me all the time. You don’t need makeup or a dress or anything,” said Harry, smiling at Lily.
“Yeah, right,” Lily commented sarcastically, laughing playfully although a part of her was a bit serious.
“I mean it! You’re absolutely beautiful, Lily—and when I first met you I genuinely thought that. I wasn’t like ‘Damn, she’s fit’ I was like ‘Wow, she’s beautiful.’ No romantic intentions were even on my mind, I just thought you were beautiful because you were—are,” he told her, and her heart didn’t fail to skip a few beats.
She looked down at the ground in an attempt to hide her blush as she said, “If I’m so beautiful why don’t I have guys falling all over me?”
“Because when they see you,” he answered, “they know they’ll never be good enough for you.”
She smiled wearily, wanting to say so badly, “But it’s the other way around—at least it is with you” but only saying, “Thank you, Harry.”
In response, he hugged her. As he did Lily wished they could always hug; that Harry could always just wrapped his long arms around her waist and bury his head in her neck, letting one hand reach up to play with a strand of Lily’s hair. She wished he could do that romantically, too, but not all wishes came true—especially not Lily’s.
She pondered over the thought of her wishes not coming true. She’d probably sounded extremely pathetic: always relying on wishes, never going up to Harry and telling him, “I love you, you idiot!” It was just things were never as they seemed. Lily had tried telling Harry she liked him—not love, her feelings had not been that far developed at the time—but Harry had thrown it off relentlessly, either joking, “Of course you like me! You’re my best friend!” or “A lot of people like me. Join the club.” A wink ensued after the second one.
Lily couldn’t bring herself to just grab Harry and tell him: “Harry, I like you in a way where I’d like to kiss you today, tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that.” She wasn’t forward enough; Angela had told her that. Lily told her afterward that she’d like to see her try tell someone who was hopelessly in love with another person just as you are with them that you love them. Angela was silent after that.
Harry pulled away from the hug—he was always the one who pulled away from these types of hugs. “So, you want to know more about the ball?” he asked, scooting over the cream couch that lived in Lily’s living room. His feet found their way on top of the dark brown coffee table positioned in front of the couch and his hands on his abdomen. Lily couldn’t help think that even in his careless laid-back position he looked beautiful.
A nod came from Lily. “Sure.”
“Well,” he started, “this guy is supposedly really massive in Hollywood and he’s directed a lot of famous films. His whole family is very famous in Hollywood, actually. It’s a bit of a family business in a sort of way. They all become really big parts of Hollywood somehow. His sister is a big actress and his brother does a lot of set construction. I know this because our manager made sure we knew about his family business so should we ever bump into the guy at the party and have to begin a conversation we can and blah blah blah. Anyway, his family throws a ball every ten years and they invite the most famous and relevant people there—which is why the boys and I were invited. I know I sound really cocky.”
“So basically you’re taking me to a party that will be filled with celebrities and hosted by a big-time Hollywood director?”
“Basically.”
“Oh, gosh.”
“Don’t worry! You’ll be fine,” Harry assured Lily. “Oh, and by the way! You’re coming with me as my date—Simon’s idea, not mine. Supposedly it’s to stir something up. He said I could just explain that you’re a friend of mine and tell people you came with me as a date for the party.”
An uncomfortable feeling stirred in Lily’s stomach. She didn’t like the idea of Harry saying she was his date. People would scream every time Harry touched her and she’d have to go through that burning feeling whenever Harry introduced her to people as his date.
“Alright,” Lily murmured anxiously.
Harry put a hand on hers. “Don’t worry, Lil. We won’t have to kiss or anything. I’ll just be telling people you’re my date and have a few dances that I will later on apologize for because you know how horrid my dance moves are,” he told her, chuckling at the end.
“Okay.” Lily sighed. “I just hope there won’t be any drama.”
“Oh, I’m sure there won’t be,” Harry assured her.
Like many times before, Harry was sure of something that wasn’t true.
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Pour | Harry Styles
Fanfiction❝ SOMETIMES, LOVE HURTS. ❞ She pours tea for him. This doesn't seem like anything great but it's deeper than just pouring tea. It's the way she pours tea for him; the way she does it as gently as possible; the way never fails to let her arm brush...
