Difference ( Harry Styles Fanfic)

Chapter 20- Dinner with Styles

     Eid Mubarak to anyone celebrating! I am as well, and for those of you who aren’t hope you all have a good day ! –z

     You know that feeling where you just can’t push away? It’s like an excited one, but you’re still anxious, like maybe first day of school where you get new classes and see your friends again. That’s the feeling that I can’t refrain from enduring away right now. According to the GPS, I’m only 15 minutes away, and it keeps leading me at the very western part of Los Angeles. There are enormous houses and fancy shops that I haven’t even heard or seen of before. I’m guessing that we were going somewhere private because I’m positive he wouldn’t want to be mobbed by a bunch of people. I stop at the red light and quickly get out my light pink lipstick and apply the new shade I got recently, and the light flickers to green indicating me to resume driving.

     My annoying body keeps getting goose-bumps as I’m about to see him, GPS about to notify me to make my last right turn. As the sun sets I notice how quiet the street is. It’s a regular street with a few shops and bakeries, but with luxury cars standing on both sides. Range Rovers, Ferraris, and even a few Lamborghinis catch my attention while my GPS signals that I’m here. I honestly feel left out with my Toyota roaming through here, but I wasn’t going to let such a little thing get to me.  I notice a medium sized restaurant by the name Bella Cucina and I’m guessing it’s Italian because of the “Bella.” I see a few people walking around the area and they’re very dressed up. Maybe I should’ve been more formal? But he didn’t tell me what exactly it was I should wear. Good thing I did wear a nice blouse along with the dark jeans, but my sandals don’t do much justice. Wait, I brought those heels with me, thank God! Should I wear them is the question. I’m short to be honest so I think it would barely make a difference. I don’t usually wear heels with casual outfits because I feel like it’s too much, but in this case that we’re eating at a fancy restaurant I need to. I park my car inside the empty parking lot and I’m surprised there’s barely anyone here! Maybe that’s why he chose to come. I exchange my shoes and put deodorant on. It’s exactly 5:25 in the afternoon, since he said to meet him at 5:30 I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to leave now. I’m only 5 minutes early right? Okay I’m overthinking again, just go in the restaurant already. I grab my brown satchel and leave my car to go inside.

      The atmosphere is really attracting. There are Italian paintings and sketches all around the walls and the setting is very dark, displaying intimacy. There are absolutely no people, but me and I slowly walk towards the waiter that stands in front of a counter.

    The man seems in his late forties and even seems Italian himself when he speaks up,“Ms. Dilara?” How does he know my name? Is Harry already here?

     “Yes, that’s me.” I smile to him reassuringly and he replies with “Right this way.” We walk through the beautifully formatted restaurant and into a second room in the corner. “Here is your table, Madam, Mr. Styles will be here shortly.”

     The waiter pulls up the chair for me, a kind gesture im not accustomed to and I thank him. “Thank you,” I search for his name-tag and it says Marco, “Marco.” He nods his head and leaves me here. It’s a small wooden table with a white cloth covering it. There are two menus that sit on the table, one for Harry and the other for me. There are also three different plates from small to medium, and large. Then we have three glass cups, each I’m guessing for every meal. It’s definitely very fancy and expensive. But why are there no people here? I stay in my comfortable single chair waiting for him to come. Again, my heart forgets to beat and blood rushes all throughout my body, so damn anxious, to be honest. Even though I’ve seen Harry many times this month, I still have a nervous feel around him. And once he smiles I forget about everything and it’s a feeling that I can’t describe.