Princess and the Popstar | Harry Styles

A Royal Wake Up

Bernie stirred much too early—and much too hungover—for her liking. Her head throbbed, and it only intensified when she opened her eyes. Her contacts felt like shards of glass, her eyes drier than the sahara and she cursed herself for sleeping in them. The sun had just begun to rise, and the glare it cast through the windows had Bernie burying her face in a pillow. As she fought to get comfortable and fall back asleep, her knee nudged against a pair of hairy legs. For a moment, Bernie had forgot about her bedfellow.

Harry was sound asleep next to her, his face peaceful as he gently snored. Long gone was the smug smirk he wore for most of the night, and his soft lips bore no trace of the filthy words that had dripped from them. Bernie blushed just thinking about all the naughty ways Harry pleasured her until they passed out from exhaustion. Fleetingly, Bernie wondered if she made Harry feel even half as good as he was determined to make her feel. But then she remembered how he moaned and groaned her name, begged her not to stop, and gaped at her in pure admiration when she returned the favor by doing a bit of sucking of her own.

She could have watched him sleep the rest of the morning despite the burning in her eyes. It was only the second time Bernie had the opportunity to study Harry without him knowing, and she relished in it. Throughout the night, whenever her eyes were on him, he was staring right back in a way that made Bernie positively squirm so that she could hardly appreciate the beautiful man before her. But now as Harry was deep in sleep, Bernie could admire the soft olive tone of his skin and his long, dark lashes. He had a bit of scruff lining his jaw and upper lip, but it was the kind of short, prickly hair that meant he hadn't shaved in the last day or two. There was a small, red spot forming on the cupid's bow of his lip, which only endeared him more to her. In the face of perfection, Bernie was grateful to see a hint of normalcy; it made her feel better about her own stubborn spot on her chin.

Just as Bernie had worked up the confidence to run her fingers through Harry's short curls, a heavy buzzing startled her. She sat up, eyes scanning the room to find the source of the offending noise. Just as Harry began to rouse, Bernie spotted her striped clutch rattling on the dresser.

Bernie scrambled out of bed, snatching the first clothes she found up off the floor and hurried to pull out her phone. A photo of Bernie and her mother flashed across the screen, and any intent Bernie had to ignore the call went right out the window.

"Hello?" Bernie whispered, pulling on Harry's shirt and buttoning it half way.

"Why are you whispering, darling?" Her mother's voice came through the receiver so loud Bernie hastily checked over her shoulder to see if it woke Harry. Thankfully, he merely rolled over with a sleepy sigh. "Hello? Sweetheart, are you there? Helloooo?"

"Yes, yes," Bernie whispered with exasperation. She tiptoed across the room and slid the glass door open, stepping out onto the balcony. Bernie let the door glide shut before putting more distance between her and Harry in an attempt not to wake him. The last thing she wanted was to come back to an empty bed—she hadn't gotten her fill of Harry yet.

"Darling, why does it sound like you're sneaking around?"

"I'm not sneaking around," Bernie answered defensively, finally at full volume. Her mum sounded suspicious, so Bernie was keen to throw her off the scent. "Why are you calling so early? You know it's hardly half-past seven, right?"

"Well it's half-three here, and I need to talk to you about something."

Michelle Prescott, affectionately known as Meesh, was a vivacious woman, as lively and bright as the bold pinks and purples she dressed in. She was one of those mums that successfully toed the line between parent and friend with her children, so for her to take such a serious tone told Bernie something was up. Bracing herself, Bernie leaned on the balcony railing, resting her elbow on the cold metal and cradling the phone to her ear.