The Primrose Thrills (Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Part 10 (2)

I listened to the seconds tick by on Harry’s watch with my head buried into his bare chest. It was the most comfortable silence I’d ever been in, and it must have been twenty minutes before we moved and decided to dress ourselves. I discarded my stockings in the concealed bin in the bathroom and went around bare-legged. Nobody seemed to bat an eyelid as we re-entered the grand room. Everything and everyone was how it was as we’d left. The undertones of the cello still sounded beneath chattering people. Glasses of champagne were still being offered around. The masked man that I’d been so captivated by as we walked in was still stood in the same spot that he had been; watching and observing. I couldn’t help but wonder which eyes had peeked in on mine and Harry’s encounter. I wondered who’d seen me beg and writhe beneath his touch. Who’d seen his mark upon my skin. As we walked to the exit of the house, I locked eyes with a woman in red silk; long, dark waves of thick hair cascading down her shoulders and to the middle of her back. Our gaze lingered as I passed her; I could feel her eyes on me even as I stood before the door. I glanced over my shoulder as Harry pushed the door open and she was still staring right at me; deep brown eyes to match her Mediterranean complexion. She’d seen. She’d seen me at my most vulnerable… And at my most exhilarated.

I woke up to Harry whispering into my ear. I couldn’t even remember falling asleep, but we were back in Primrose Hill and parked right outside of his house.

“When did I fall asleep?” I asked groggily.

“About five minutes into the journey,” he laughed as he pushed my fallen hair from my face. 

Tucked up in bed, I could hear the birds tweeting outside. It was still dark but night was gradually unravelling into morning. Harry’s strong arms held my body against his as he breathed softly over the crown of my head.

“Are you thinking?” I asked him.

There was a short silence before he answered.

“Not really,” he whispered and I moved my head back so I could see his face.

The streetlamps broke through his curtains into the dark room and I could see the heaviness of his lids as he blinked slowly.

“You look tired,” I whispered sympathetically.

“I don’t really feel like sleeping right now,” he smiled.

I didn’t really feel like sleeping myself. After everything that had happened in the past twelve hours, I felt completely overwhelmed. 

“How about you?” he asked, and I hummed confusedly. “Are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking too much,” I breathed out a laugh as I spoke.

“What about?”

Harry shifted down the bed so that we were face to face; eyes level.

“Tonight,” I began. “The dinner. The media. How people are going to react.”

He frowned and a look of worry crossed his face.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he rested his forehead on mine and found my hand at my side. “We’ll deal with the media and public each day at a time, I guess.”

I nodded and shut my eyes for a moment, before opening them back up to him.

“Did you enjoy tonight?”

“Which part?” I smirked, and he mirrored my lips. 

“Well did you enjoy the dinner?”