More than Friends | HARRY STYLES FIC

Chapter 13

Harry's P.O.V

The air is much cooler in London this time of year than I remembered. As I stand here, rocking back and forth on my favourite Chelsea boots anxiously, I can't help but wonder if she dressed warm enough or if I should head down the hall to the tourist shop in Heathrow to get her a coat. The small hand on my watch passes nine and I glance out the window to find the sky completely darkened and the streets damp with our country's infamous showers. I begin to walk towards the shop, but my phone rings.


"Hello?" I answer with a fever of nervousness, hoping to hear her voice on the other end. She didn't tell me what was wrong when she called in the early hours of the morning, she only said that she needed me and I thought it best to wait to discuss whatever it is.


"Oi, what's taking you so bloody long?" Louis' silvery voice rings through.


"The flight hasn't landed yet," I reply, huffing with disappointment. "And I'm a little nervous, and I never get nervous."


"You gonna tell her that you love her, Harry?" Zayn mocks amongst the background noise.


"Am I on speaker?"


"You gonna pick her up, spin her around and kiss her?" Niall shouts out. His smart ass remark is followed up by the laughter of all four lads.


"You're just hilarious, Niall," I respond sarcastically, hanging up the phone. I shake my head as I place it in my pocket. Those damn


"Harry?" I hear that familiar, sweet voice sound behind me. 


"Hi, Laura," I reply embracing her without hesitation. She wraps her arms around my back and nestles into my chest much tighter than normal. "You must be exhausted. Let's get you back to my place so you can relax," I add, noticing the dark circles and red veins in her eyes; it looks like she's been crying for days, and that pains me.


We walk towards the exit, ignoring the eyes of passersby. As we get closer to the doors, an older woman in a pant suit approaches us.


"Excuse me, Mr. Styles, I just wanted to warn you in advance that there is a slew of paparazzi right outside," she says parting her slightly greyed hair from her face.


"Thank you," I smile and nod. I step in front of Laura and remove my jacket. "It's cold outside, put this on," I urge, looking at her thin sweater and tiny duffle bag. It's clear from the lack of luggage that she was in a hurry to get out of L.A. All I know is that if Jared laid one finger on her, I'll be heading back to the America to make him regret it.


"What about you though?" she asks, eyes shining at me in that perfect way that they do.


"Don't you worry about me. As long as you're all right, I'm all right," I reply, taking her hand into mine. She bites down on her bottom lip and shifts around on her feet. She's nervous, like me, and she'll be even more so when she steps outside into all the flashing lights and cameras. "Now, when we go out there, it's going to be hectic. If you don't want to be seen, you can hide your face with your hand or lean into my chest and I'll guide you to our car. It's waiting just beyond the crowd."


She peers up at me from beneath her long, thick, black lashes and nods. I wrap my arm around her lower back and she shields her face with my chest. As we open the door and enter a firestorm of flashes and people yelling my name, I feel her heartbeat speed up and her grip on my shirt tighten.


"Harry, who's the girl?"


"Is she your girlfriend?"


"What's her name?"


I ignore their probing and hurry into the car, telling our driver to pull away as quickly as possible. Once we're on the road, I turn my attention to Laura.


"I'm sorry about that, I tried to get here without drawing attention, but someone must have tipped them off, " I smile, watching as she stares out the window with a somber expression on her face. "Are you okay? I've been worried about you ever since you called."


She taps her fingers against the door and takes a deep breath. "You were right. You were so right. I should have listened to you," she says, shifting her eyes my way. The shades of blue throughout them become dominant as they gloss over. And even though she sits before me broken, hopeless and in disarray, light still wraps a halo around her.


"He told you?" I question, shock limiting me to those three words.


"No, he didn't get the chance to say anything," she responds, lowering her head so that her hair casts a shadow over her face.


Before I speak another word, I gently reach out, lift her chin and tuck her silky golden locks behind her ears - I can't bear to see her hurting. "What do you mean?" I ask, as she peers over at me now.


"I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't sit there and ignore my suspicion," she explains, voice shaking. I reach out and place my hand on top of hers, then she continues. "We got into a huge argument last night and Jared kept telling me I was being stupid. After he went to sleep, I got up, dug through all of his things and found a second cell phone in his study. It had a long history of messages with some woman in New York."


"Laura, I'm sorry," I whisper, taking a hold of her hand tightly as I watch a tear streak down her cheek like melting snow. The story adds up with what I already know. "How did you leave it?"


"I left him a note telling him it's over and ran out the door before he woke up," she replies with a tight lipped, fake smile. She takes three deep breaths as she stares at the back of the passenger head rest, a sure effort to contain tears, but she doesn't need to hold it together around me. "I'm sorry I sprung this on you, I had nowhere else to go."


"Don't be sorry," I respond, barely able to control my own emotions at this point. "Has he tried calling you or anything?"


"I turned my phone off as soon as I boarded the plane and I'm don't plan on turning it on again anytime soon," Laura exhales.


I go to tell her that I'm here for her and that I won't let her be hurt anymore than she has, but the cab comes to a sudden stop. Outside the fogged up window I see my house, the outside light glowing in the clouded, dark sky. I climb out and slip my driver a tip through the window, then head to the passenger side to help Laura with her things. She walks behind me, eyes on her feet, as we head up the pathway and into my home.


"Welcome to London," I smile at her trying to lighten the mood.


*****


The aroma of french vanilla candles lingers throughout the living room, as she flops down on the loveseat and lays her head back on the rest - I remember smelling it the first time I went to her house, and it's been my favourite scent ever since. She looks at me now, eyes twinkling like the moon peeking out from behind a cloud in the night sky. The rose glow escapes her cheeks as she takes deep, heavy breaths.


"Can I get you something to make you more comfortable? A blanket or a cup of tea maybe?" I ask with a smile, leaning against the grey walls of the open doorway.


"Wine. Lots and lots of wine," she responds without a hint of hesitation. That genuine warm smile dances across her face as she notices my surprised reaction. "Please," she half-laughs.


I disappear into the kitchen and pour two glasses of my finest vintage. When I return, Laura's no longer seated but is standing in front of the stone fireplace looking at the family photos that adorn it. There's so many on there. Probably the entire family tree. Everyone from my mum and Gemma to my third cousin twice removed. Family has always been the cornerstone of my happiness.


I place her glass on the mantle and wrap my free arm tightly around her waist from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder as the heat of the fire tingles against my skin. She tilts her head to rest against mine, and I find myself wishing this moment and feeling could be frozen perfectly in time for me to live over again.


"Thank you," she whispers, eyes closed as I rock us back and forth slowly.


"Your welcome," I reply, continuing to hold her. I smile at the looseness of her body, a sign she's feeling much more at ease now. But with the sudden halt of her swaying shoulders, her body language tenses and she reaches forward grabbing a hold of something off the mantle. I wait for her to bring it in close to her body, and when she does, I realize what it is. Jitters storm through my stomach. I desperately analyze her face, completely embarrassed.


"You kept this," she says, peering over her shoulder at me, eyelashes fluttering and mouth slightly parted.


I swallow my nerves, and look down into her hand to see the polaroid I took of her the night that she fell asleep in my library after we played Scrabble. The night that I kissed her when I shouldn't have and thought for sure she was going to run from me. And yet, here we are in London, together.


"Of course I did. Right after I took it, I remember thinking my camera has never captured anything more beautiful," I respond, not spinning any lines or trying to charm her. And that's the thing, I've always been smooth with my words and actions, knowing just what to say and do, but with Laura every single bit of it is real. Every single part of it is me.


She smirks at me as she reaches for her glass. In one swift motion, she presses it to her lips and tilts her head back, gulping down every last drop until the glass is dry. "Bring out the bottle; I've got a lot of worries on my mind that I could do with forgetting for at least one night," she remarks, gently wiping her wine soaked lips.


"Now that sounds like a plan," I grin, as I walk into the kitchen and grab a hold of the bottle. On second thought, make that two bottles - I have a feeling one just won't do it tonight. "But I've seen you drink, and I'm worried that two glasses and I might have to carry you upstairs from the floor," I shout to her as I enter the room.


She cocks an eyebrow and grabs a bottle from my hand, her smile challenging me as she pops the cork.


"Mr. Styles, that is far from the truth. If I recall correctly, you had quite the buzz going after a couple of drinks at my place the first night you came over," she says, filling her glass and then mine. She takes a big sip and I copy.


"I did not," I deny, even though I remember feeling a little merry. "I think you're mistaking me with some other British boyband member."


"No, I'm pretty sure I had to ask you to repeat yourself a few times because your words were just a tad slurred," she winks at me, as she gulps down the remainder and pours another glass. "I think it was a long the lines of, 'ssometimesss I miss being hhhome with myyyy mum,'" she mocks.


A loud laugh slips out of my mouth, and not my calm, collected laugh, but my obnoxious kid-like cackle where I throw my head back - so not cool.


"Hey, I was just feeling a little homesick. It had nothing to do with the liquor," I say tightening my lips to avoid an embarrassing laugh outburst again.


"Sure, if you say so," she grins.


There's a momentary pause in conversation, as both of us stand there unsure of what to say. It's not an awkward stoppage either, just nervousness between two people who, up until now, hadn't known each other as anything more than friends. That isn't to say I expect her to jump into my arms right this moment, to suddenly forget about the pain Jared's caused, and it certainly isn't my motivation behind being there for her, because I would be no matter what. But what is more clear than ever is that for the first time there's a glimmer of hope for us. I turn the record player on to ease the situation, and as I step back in front of her there is only one think that I can think of to say.


"Dance with me," I urge, realizing how corny I sound, but trying to seem confident and poised. I watch her bite down on her bottom lip as her cheeks turn pink. "Come on, dance with me," I press again, this time extending my hand in the most gentlemanly way that I can.


"You're such a charmer, Harry," she laughs, placing her free hand in mine.


"And you are beautiful, Laura," I respond, spinning her around before I pull her in close to my chest. I can feel her cheeks widen with a grin against my chest as our bodies move in slow, effortless circles.


She separates from me for a moment to down another glass, and even though I know she's going through a lot, it concerns me to see her stumble back over. She caresses me once more, much tighter than before, while her eyes twinkle up at mine and her tongue glides across her red wine stained lips. There's so many things I want to say to her right now, like how kind, funny and smart she is, and how any person would be lucky to have her. Wanting to make her know her worth, I part my lips to profess, but before a word can exit, her lips crash into mine.


My eyes widen with shock at first, but they find the back of my lids quickly as her taste tantalizes my tongue. I drop both of my hands to hold her firmly against me as our kiss deepens at the playing of our tongues. Lips still connected, she pushes me backward until I fall into a seated position on the couch, then she climbs on top, straddling me. She breaks away from me, a hot, intense stare on her face, as her fingers loosen the buttons on her blouse, allowing her to slip out of her shirt. I'm out of breath at this point, adrenaline rushing through me as I crave more of her touch. The red lace bra she's wearing teases me, tempting me to reveal and explore her full breasts that I've missed since our last encounter. I crack; eager to feel her, I reach for the hook of her bra. As my fingers trace across her skin and find their way to it, I get an uneasy feeling and change my mind.


"Laura, I can't," I say quietly, hands now firmly holding her waist. It's not that I don't want to, because I really, really want to, it's just not right.


"Great. Jared doesn't want me. Now you don't want me either. Obviously there's something wrong with me," she slurs, cheeks red with embarrassment, as she stands up from my lap and begins to re-button her shirt.


"It's not that, babe. You're upset right now. Everything is still fresh and new. And you've had a few drinks." I grab a hold of her hand to stop her from walking away, and pull her back to the couch so that she's seated beside me. "Believe me, it's really hard to say no right now," I add, grabbing her hand and placing it on my hard-as-a-rock manhood, "I don't want you to make a decision you'll regret because you're hurt and vulnerable. I don't want that for you."


A small smile swims across her face, and with the sight of it, I pull her in tight so that her head can rest on my chest. "Thank you," she says, wrapping an arm around me, eyes fluttering with exhaustion.


I nod and run my fingers through her hair as she drifts off.


After an hour has passed and my eyes have grown heavy, I decide to carry her up the stairs and into the comfort of my bed. I watch her breathe peacefully, as I make my way into the room and lay her down, pulling the covers up to her neck. As I go to walk away, she takes a hold of my hand and stops me.


"Harry," she whispers, eyes appearing as slits.


"Yes," I answer, sitting at the edge of the bed.


"I've never regretted you. I might say I did because of Jared, but you've made me the happiest I've been in years," she mumbles, words drawn out. "And I'm not just saying that because I'm sad or because I'm really drunk. I'm sorry for everything, it's just so hard to let go of the only thing close to love that I've ever known."


My orbs gloss over and an uncontrollable grin takes over my face. I push the mess of hair off of her forehead and kiss it. "It's okay. Get some rest. Tomorrow is a new day."


And with that I exit the room, heart pumping with a joy only she can make me feel.

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A/N: HEY FAM. Here's a longer update to make up for the week or so I was busy with Christmas. This one is probably my favourite chapter I've written, mostly because I love writing from Harry's POV. 

Please comment and vote, my loves. It's much appreciated. 

All the love to you in this new year, xoxo.