DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY PART OF THIS STORY AT ALL. IMAGINELIFEWITHHAZZA ON TUMBLR WROTE THE ENTIRE THING. AGAIN I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THIS.
MASTER OF LOVE MAKING - PART 8
“Fine, but you have no right to blame me for that, mum! You’ve always done that, so if you call me only to throw another shit at me – fucking drop it. I escaped from you, I live in London, I go on with my life and I’m finally happy. Don’t ruin it. Goodbye!” I shouted to the phone and hung up. How did she dare to call me now? After months of not talking to each other. I moved to London for a reason, hoping she will finally leave me alone. I was just tired of all the shit at home and I couldn’t stand it anymore, so escaping was the only solution. And now, when I finally live the life I’ve always wanted, I am happy and free, she calls me again to ruin me with another bullshit? She really can go fuck herself. I thought I will explode on that street. I took a glance at my phone, checking out the hour. I still had about an hour or so before work. I sighed and looked up, all of a sudden my view was captured with a big, dark figure in front of me. My face met with his chest and all of the documents I was holding in my hand fell on the floor. “Shit.” I muttered, looking up. Fucking amazing – first my mother, then a random guy. Yes of course, go all ruin my day. Jeez, man, I had my article written there and now it’s on the floor, you better pray it didn’t get dirty. “Hey pretty boy, could you watch out?” I grumbled sarcastically under my nose, not paying much attention to the guy and getting down to gather my papers. He kneeled too and helped me, looking curiously at my articles. Oh fuck… He started chuckling and I knew really well why. We got up and it was then when I looked at him more carefully. ‘Bridget, you idiot, do something!’ I scowled myself in my mind while I kept staring at the boy in front of me. I would recognize those eyes everywhere and I really don’t know how could I not notice at a first glance who I bumped into. His chocolate curls were falling on his forehead and they were even more beautiful than in the photos. His eyes – stunning, emerald orbs were looking through my soul, mesmerizing me. And those pink lips I’ve always been a big fan of. He really was unique and his lips had something special in them. I had no idea what it was, but they were just so… kissable. They were spread slightly and all I wanted right now was to press mine against them. He was wearing a colorful flannel shirt, unbuttoned a bit on top and a plain, white T-shirt underneath it. I’ve always liked him in flannel shirts and look, I was lucky enough to see him live in one of them. The shirt was loose, but his body sculpture was visible through it. Okay, we always say “Oh my God, Harry is so tall, he is so muscled” etc. but when he’s standing in front of you, it’s just incredible. I was at least 10 or 15 centimeters shorter than him and even though I never was skinny, I felt really petite next to him. He just made this impression that you felt really comfortable and safe with him. He was wearing one of his famous skinny jeans and I was really tempted to gaze at his crotch, but I stopped myself, that would be really awkward. He was also wearing a beige coat and for me he looked very cuddlery. Of course, I’d cuddle him in every situation but now as he was standing there opposite me, inches away from me, I just wanted to bury my head in his chest, hugging him and feeling the warmth of his body. I looked him in the eyes and he noticed I was staring at him. “Nice texts you’re hiding there. What do you need them for, love?” He said with a smirk and if my heart wasn’t beating fast enough, now I think it could jump out of my chest. Fucking pervert. “Those are articles I wrote. I’m the editor of Cosmopolitan.” I said, blushing and I could tell it made an impression on him. “Then I guess you have a lot of fun when you work.” He winked at me and I rolled my eyes playfully. Am I really talking with Harry Styles so naturally like we’ve known each other forever? I laughed and replied: “Yeah, I do indeed. I’m so sorry for being rude, I just… I’ve been stressed recently.” I explained and he put his hand on my arm, rubbing it gently. “Hey, don’t worry. I liked the ‘watch out, pretty boy’ comment. Something extraordinary, cause usually all I get is screaming and marriage or sex proposals.” We both burst out laughing and I couldn’t help but smile, cause he really was a nice, funny and caring lad that he always seemed to be for me. And then the awkward silence came. I really wanted to ask him for a photo or an autograph, but somehow– I couldn’t. And he kept watching me intently with a bright smile, that could light up the whole Universe. “So, uhm, you’re probably busy, right? Going to studio or something?” I asked shyly. Damn Bridget, sort yourself out and do something. Harry Styles can’t take his eyes off of you! But no, he’s probably just looking at me with a pity at how awkward I am. “No, actually we have a few days off, I was just chilling. Are you busy?” he asked, knotting his fingers and biting his lip. Is he seriously nervous? Oh my God, calm your tits, calm your tits. Is this flirting? Jesus Christ, is someone flirting with me? Not someone, Harry fucking Styles. I don’t know how to flirt, I’ve never even been on a date. What am I supposed to say? Bee, you look retarded when you don’t answer his questions, you idiot! Okay. “Uhm no, I was heading to work but I still have an hour.” He smiled and normally, in romantic comedies they say something like ‘do you wanna go for coffee?’ but we were just looking each other in the eyes without a word. “I’d really love if you accompanied me during my morning coffee.” He suddenly said, smiling shyly. What the fuck? It’s not medieval to say things like this. He is so gentle and amazing, oh God… Am I really fangirling inside like a 15 years old school girl? What the hell am I doing? “And I’d really love to accompany you, Harry.” Wow, somehow I managed to give him a decent answer and I was quite proud of it. “What’s your name, babe?” he said as we started heading to the café that was nearby. “It’s Bridget. Bee for friends.” I smiled at him and shaking my hand, he replied: “Let’s go to the café then, Bee.” He smirked under his nose and now I understood what this Harry Styles’ charm was all about.
