If You Would [h.s.] HOLD

Seven

I nervously bite my lip as my fingertip hovers over the "send" button on my phone. It wasn't a risky text but it was the first one, the ball was in my court. What if he doesn't even respond? What if he's mad because the fight last night could have gotten him arrested?

I groan and throw my phone on my bed and put my face in my hands. Why am I scared to send a text to a fucking boy? Just do it Evie.

I grab my phone and hit send without thinking twice about it.

Me: How's your face?

I throw my phone back on my bed, scared of his response or worse, no response. But when I hear the ding sound from my phone my heart jumps. I pick it up and it's from his number.

Harry: A little swollen. You should see the other guy ;)

The text makes me smile. A part of me is still upset about how the whole situation went down last night. I wasn't expecting him to just go off like that. I mean I know that what the guy was doing was horrible but still, Harry took it a little too far. I hover my fingers back over my phone.

Me: We should talk about last night yeah?

Harry: If you feel like we need to. We can discuss it over dinner?

I know he's trying to trick me into a date, but either way we really needed to talk about last night and what came over him. And why he would go such extents for me out of all people, just a girl he was chasing for sex.

Me: Fine. But don't get any ideas in that thick skull of yours. Pick me up at 8. 176 Hamilton street apartment 4.

I sent the text. Harry Styles is picking me up at 8 for dinner so we can talk about how he swooped in and rescued me at a bar last night. Even though I feel like this should be extremely overwhelming, and maybe I should be freaking out. I'm not. The way that me and Harry met was very cliche but everything after that wasn't. He wasn't a superstar to me anymore. He was just Harry.

Harry: Dress nice.

My lips curl up at the text. I know I told him not to try anything but I haven't even been on a date in so long, and this feels a lot like a date. I should probably make it very clear at dinner that this isn't a date, more like a... meeting? I don't know. But definitely not a date.

///

This feels like a date.

I do a final check in the mirror, my hair is nicely curled and falls beneath my breasts.

I have a loose black dress and light wash denim jacket over it, due to the chilly weather. I dig through my closet for some black heels and find the perfect pair of open toed black ankle boots.

I look at my clock.

7:55.

He should be here soon and I can't help but to feel nervous. What if he drives a stupid car?