The Choreographer

10: Her

I run my straightener through my hair one last time and apply some lipgloss. Harry should be here to pick me up in 10 minutes. He said it wasn't too fancy, but that it wasn't too casual either. I opted for black jeans, knee high grey leather riding boots, a dark teal sweater and a black purse.

My hair is straightened, and my makeup was perfect. I feel pretty, which is unusual, for me. I turn on the tv and flip through channels, I stop when I see my face.

"Harry Styles is now rumored to be dating the American choreographer and ballet 'prodigy' Isabel Masterson." The reporter says.

I fight being offended as she says the word 'prodigy' like it's debatable.

I listen to her as she continues her thought, "She reportedly started choreographing dances for One Direction in the beginning of September, Masterson and Styles were first spotted together at the end of that same month." She rattles on. "Harry Styles posted on his twitter today that he will be taking 'his beautiful friend' on a date tonight and hopes to 'make it official.'"

I smile to myself. He really posts on twitter about me? What if the fans hate me? What if what happened to Liam and Danielle and Louis and Eleanor happens to me and Harry?

I brush the thoughts off as a knock sounds from my door. I open it to see Harry smiling.

"I saw me on the news." I tell him, as I lock my door and walk down the hall towards the elevators with him.

"Really?" He asks not sounding surprised.

"Yeah, I'm rumored to be dating you." I tell him poking him in the side.

"Not for long." He smiles. "The paparazzi might be really bad though. I'm just saying. They followed my car here."

I frown. "Oh,"

"They aren't allowed in the restaurant." He teases "But I may have to kiss you in front of them."

"Don't." I tell him.

"Why?" He seems genuinely curious.

"I don't like PDA." I tell him.

"Well it's too bad," he pulls me close to him as we get into the elevator "because I like you."

The blush comes almost immediately, and he chuckles guiding me out of the apartment building and to his car. I'm not sure how I feel about Harry's super to make my face redden, but I don't have time to think about it as we are greeted with swarms of paparazzi.

"Isabel!" They call out to me. I stare straight ahead, pretending they aren't there. Harry looks over and grins at my steely exterior and squeezes my hand.

****

At the restaurant the hostess smiles at us and takes us to our seat. Harry registered under is own name this time. He obviously wanted everyone to know we would be here.

"So I bought you something." He tells me.

"Really?" I ask leaning forward resting my head in my hands, my elbows propped on the table. "What?"

"Something." He says, now slightly embarrassed, "You might not like it, I mean I don't know but -"

I cut his rambling off "I'll love it." I tell him as he hands me a box wrapped in silver paper. I open the box and gasp at the bracelet he got me. It's silver and delicate looking. It's made up of diamonds and emeralds, like the ring from my brother. I look up at him, feeling emotional. "Harry you didn't have to -"

He cuts me off. "I know." He smiles and takes the box and my wrist and puts the gorgeous bracelet on me. I turn my wrist marveling at his gift.

"It's beautiful." I tell him, touched that he remembered what my ring looked like.