I'm not sure what I pictured Harry's house to look like, but the towering brick home standing before me was not it.
The exterior of the home was lovely. Two white columns framed the red door, and the ornate windowpanes gave the oversized windows character. The house itself was encased in dark bricks and green ivy, and the detailed white trim gave it the classic London look.
Heavy curtains guarded the windows of the house from the outside world, and I couldn’t help but to wonder if it was Harry's way of dealing with the Paparazzi while he was at home.
As we walk up the stairs, we both laugh as Ace gets a mouth full of the potted flowers on the porch and darts through the slightly ajar door. I realize Harry must not have closed it when he came busting outside to help me.
Thinking about it now, I am slightly confused by the memory. Was Ace really trying to attack me? I mean, I thought he was. That's why I screamed, which is why Harry came darting outside, right?
I struggle to recall the events as they happened, and I'm quickly annoyed that my brain refuses to function properly.
Harry nudges heavy door, and extends his tattooed arm to prop it open for me. "After you, love."
Once I step inside, I'm immediately surprised by the clean and tidy appearance of the rooms. Given the age and occupation of the owner, I expected it to be much messier than it is.
Noticing my reaction, Harry becomes quickly amused. "What? A teenager can't keep a clean home?"
"You're part of the biggest boy band in the world, " I joke, gesturing to the tidy rooms down the hall, "and I can't even keep my closet clean."
He chuckles and makes no effort to hide the goofy smile plastered across his face.
"Oh, now you're laughing at me! What? Is your closet perfectly clean and organized, too?" I poke fun.
Harry traces the small tattoos etched on his wrist. I can tell he is thinking about what to say.
"No, I was just thinking..." he begins before I playfully interrupt.
"About how you're going to kill me for tracking in dirt?" Judging by the faint brown footprints behind me, the soles of my red Nikes must have picked up every bit of dirt in between my hotel and Harry's house.
Harry shakes his head and lets out a soft laugh. "No, actually I was thinking about how normal this is. I mean, I can't tell you how rare it is for me to have a normal conversation. Especially with a girl like you..."
He looks down into my eyes, asking for my understanding. I nod, praying he would continue with his thoughts. The calm expression on my face hides the explosion of emotions inside of me. Was he flirting with me? Again?
"Thanks," I manage, "I suppose I can see where that would be an issue."
"Don't get me wrong, I love the fans, I just hate how the idea of 'being famous' can control someone's life." He pauses. "So, thank you, Alice. Truly."
"You're crazy for thinking you have a reason to thank me, you know," I confess. I silently beg my pounding heart to keep from exploding.
"No, I'm thanking you for treating me like Harry, not Harry Styles from One Direction," he says, "Shit, this is awkward, and I know I probably sound like an idiot, but it's true."
In mid-sentence, he leads me into the kitchen and opens a sleek black cabinet next to the sink.
"Band-Aide," he reminds me, peeling open the wrapper and gently pressing the bandage onto my bleeding elbow.
My heart flutters at his simple but heartfelt gesture.
"You know, I'm glad my dog gave you a scare today, Alice,” he says
"You're glad Ace attacked me?" I mock. My attempt at making a horrified expression fails miserably, and instead, I find myself helplessly smiling at Harry.
"No," he begins, "I'm glad I met you, Al." The nerves in his voice are obvious.
Harry's new nickname for me sends my emotions into overdrive. All of the words in my vocabulary jumble together, and I doubt I'll be able to form a coherent sentence.
Three loud knocks at the door spare me from responding.
By the time Harry and I look up, none other than Liam Payne is standing in the doorway.
________________________________________
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The Run Away Girl || Harry Styles
Fanfiction"You are more than a fan, Al, you're my light. I need you like I need oxygen," He begged me, his green eyes glowing like stars under the moonlight. "I'll never hurt you, just trust me." And so I trusted him. But if I would have known what follow...
