One Direction One Shots 3

Head Over Heels (Harry)

I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, my frame dimly illuminated by a small bathroom light.  This is not the first time I have found myself gazing at my scantily clad reflection in this bathroom mirror—it probably would not be the last time I would be critiquing my appearance in this very mirror either.  I pulled at the sheer lace outlining the black silk of the bra that was contorting my usually petite breasts to a voluptuous, womanly shape.  I adjusted the white silky bow that was leaning askew in the valley of my bosoms before smoothing the black suspender stretching from just below my waist to the curve of my hips.  The lace that complemented the cups of the bra found its way on to the suspender to provide a glimpse of the hot skin just above my pubic bone, accentuated by another soft, white bow at the center of the waistband.  I turned around in the mirror to reveal another delicate pallid ribbon at the waistband of the briefs that mimicked the styling of the bra.  I felt relieved that he chose the matching briefs rather than the barely-there thong, letting a tiny part of myself rejoice that he remembered my distaste for them.  I pulled up the sheer, black stockings and let the exquisite material ghost over the smooth skin of my calves to the middle of my thighs and attached the tops of the stockings to my suspender.  Stepping into my ridiculously high, red-bottomed heels, I gave my appearance one last glance before walking out the bathroom to an anticipating Harry.          

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The hazy afternoon light was creating a flattering, ambient glow in my minimal, slightly disarrayed apartment bathroom.  A soft, pleasant summer breeze filtered through the open window next to the toilet, grazing my skin with some cooling relief from the hot, nearly stifling city air.  Despite the soothing hiss of the summer wind and the faint chirp of a song sparrow muffled by the whirling of cars and busy people on the street below, I could not mute the uneasy thoughts tumbling through my restless mind.  I nervously smoothed the pleated white skirt of my dress, fidgeting with the hem between my delicate fingers and taking in the feel of the crocheted cotton material.  Letting out an apprehensive breath, I picked up a few pins from the sides of the little white pedestal sink and carefully used them to tuck pieces of hair behind my ears.  Looking at my work in the medicine cabinet mirror, I huffed in frustration at the state of my hair; my normally straight hair fighting the styled curl I forced upon my thin chocolate locks.  Using my fingers to carefully comb at my hair, it began to resemble the idea I originally had in my head and I considered this a victory.  It was a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.  I sighed, redirecting my gaze to my toes that were donning a fresh coat of red nail polish that seamlessly matched the scarlet varnish adorning my fingernails and hoping that my nude sandal wedges would pair well with this dress and the touches of red.

Although I had been involved with Harry for nearly nine months now, I could not help myself from becoming nervous every time we would meet.  My heart would beat faster than normal, my palms would become uncomfortably sweaty, and I would fidget with any piece of jewelry I was wearing.  Today, it was a short, opal necklace with a gold chain that I received as a graduation gift when I graduated from the University of Massachusetts just a little over a year ago. 

I suppose it was rather easy to be intimidated by Harry Styles.  The Styles name alone would be enough to make any girl take extra time to prepare herself for an encounter with a Styles man—both aesthetically and mentally.  Every person in the Boston area was well aware of the Styles family and their deep-rooted history in Massachusetts with the first patriarch, William Styles, arriving here from Northern England sometime in the middle 1700s.  Since then, the Styles’ had erected a real estate empire in the city of Boston, owning or having some share in 45% of the real estate market in the city.  Harry had easily continued this legacy:  graduating as valedictorian from Andover, being a star member of the Harvard crew team as well as graduating summa cum laude with a double concentration in economics and finance, earning a master’s degree in real estate from the University of Pennsylvania before taking his place as CFO at Styles Properties Ltd.  His father, Lincoln Styles, has been reaching retirement age and with Harry’s older brother, John, currently serving a term on the Massachusetts state senate as a basis to his rising political career, Harry will naturally take his father’s position as CEO in the coming years.  With a legacy as well-established as the Styles, any girl would quiver in anticipation when involved with one.