Annihilation - h.s.

Chapter Thirteen.

Dim lights that hang from the ceiling illuminate the inside of the restaurant. Each table has been draped over by a white tablecloth to contrast the dark wood surroundings. There is a pianist playing a soft melody in the corner of the room, who smiles at me once he looks up from the ivory keys.

Harry's hand slides from the center of my back to curl around my hip before a woman dressed in a formal black gown greets us. For a second, I feel out of place in this sophisticated environment, but I soon remember Harry's faded denim jeans and I'm reassured.

"Mr. Styles, is it?" The girl inquires with a formal tone.

He nods once, and then she begins to lead us towards a seat by the piano. Harry quickly objects to this placement, though, so we're escorted to a table at opposite corner of the restaurant.

"This feels like a date," I say once we're seated.

He looks up from the menu that is held in his hands and he responds, "Well it's not."

I lean forward on the table, holding his gaze with my own. "You're telling me that you took me half an hour out of town to dinner at a sophisticated restaurant - that you completely rented out just for the two of us, might I add - and you expect me to believe that it's not a date?"

He leans forward as well, resting his elbows on the table, his face barely a foot from mine. "You've got it, Sweetheart."

There's an atmosphere around him that pulls me closer. Whether it's the depth in his eyes, the glistening of his piercings, or the fullness of his lips that holds me there, it takes pure concentration to get my body to cooperate. I force myself to pull away and sit back in my seat.

It seems that now his eyes are in control somehow, holding my gaze with his own. We sit for a few moments before he looks back down to his menu. I do the same, analyzing the pasta selection.

I barely read the description of the first dish before Harry's menu is closed and placed back down on the table. I keep my sight on my menu and continue to read. None of the words register, though. I can feel his stare; my focus is occupied by the intensity of his eyes on me. I decide on the first of the list and put down my menu. I'm not surprised when I lift me eyes to see Harry already looking straight at me.

The waitress - Kristen I think she said - comes back to take our orders and I'm slightly relieved not to be the center of Harry's attention anymore.

"Ready to order, Mr. Styles?" I try not to smirk that the formal greeting, he couldn't be over a year older than her.

"Yeah I'll have the beef tenderloin, medium rare. And a Budweiser."

She nods, eyes lingering on him for a beat too long before she turns to me. "And for you?"

I look back at my menu to read the title of my choice dish. "I'll have the Truffle Linguine with Tomatoes and Pancetta, please."

"Would you like a drink with that?"

I think for a second. "Yeah. I'll have a King Fisher."

Harry's attention is back on me now, his eyes narrow and his head tilts to the side slightly - a common reaction to my strong taste in beer. I pull out my fake ID and show it to the waitress, knowing she's about to ask for proof of my age. She nods and walks back to the kitchen with an "I'll be right back with your meals."

Harry speaks when Kristen's gone. "Bold move."

I smirk. "What, the drink or the fake?"

This earns me a small, dimple-defining smile from him. "Both."