Little did I know that night with Harry would change my whole life upside down. If only I could remember what happened...
*HARRY STYLES FANFIC* (With a bit of Niall Horan too)
Set right before the release of Harry's album Fine Line.
Harry gives me his order and I head out to get some food. I get everything and run back upstairs, so that Harry doesn't have to wait too long. I find him sitting casually in one of the sofas we've got in the entrance, checking out the painting to his right. As he sees me walk in, he stands up and grabs part of what I'm holding.
"Here, let me help you.", he offers, taking one of the bags.
"Thanks.", I say, and smile kindly.
"Can we go somewhere... with fewer people?"
"Sure."
I smile to myself. I was hoping too that we wouldn't have to eat in front of everyone. Helena, one of my colleagues, is so nosy she would probably discover our past and somehow manage to get me fired. I take Harry to the lift and press the top button. I've never been to the rooftop, but everyone seems to go there in movies, so I think it might be a good idea.
As we walk out of the lift, I realise there's a door to get outside and I don't have the key. F*ck. I pretend to look for it in my pockets, even though I know that I don't have it. Harry laughs and pushes the door, which apparently opens without any key.
My cheeks turn red, but I try to act cool and walk outside. Ok, it's a bit cold out here. OH MY GOD, WHAT ARE WE, A THOUSAND FEET HIGH?! I'm already regretting having chosen this place. Is it too late to go back?
"Interesting choice.", Harry comments, looking around for somewhere to sit.
"It's... quiet."
"Yeah."
He laughs and finally settles for a concrete block in the middle of the rooftop. I sit beside him and hand him his sandwich.
"Although, I must say I wasn't expecting less of you."
"What do you mean?"
I take a bite from my BLT and feel it fall to pieces between my fingers. Sh*t, now I'm covered in mayo. I try to remove it discretely but Harry's already noticed. He laughs and hands me a napkin.
"I mean, after the other night..."
"Oh", I say, removing the mayo from my cheek, "What about it?"
He shakes his head and doesn't answer. He takes a bite from his sandwich and looks at the views. I mean, they are pretty amazing, but they're nothing compared to him. Oh my God, that sounded too cheesy. But he's just so handsome... His hair flies around because of the wind but he doesn't seem to mind it. Good thing I've got mine tied up in a bun. His cheeks are slightly red because of the cold air, and his eyes seem somehow tired but still full of energy.
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I should tell him that I can't recall anything from that night with him. I should tell him I've got no idea about if we did anything besides sleep together. I should tell him...
"Harry...", I mumble. God, this is much harder than I thought, "There's something I should tell you."
Just as if God didn't want me to tell him, his phone starts ringing. He looks at the screen and says, "I've got to take it, sorry."
He stands up and answers it. He walks around, talking to whoever's at the other side of the line in a very businesslike tone. It's weird how he goes from goofy to serious in a matter of seconds, and still manages to sound sexy either way.
"I'm sorry, you were saying?", he asks, after hanging up his phone. I take a sip from my water bottle and place the now empty sandwich box in the bag. Probably because I'm taking too long to get myself in the mood to tell him, he adds, "Is it important? I really need to get going."
"No, no. It's fine."
He smiles politely and I realise he looks a bit anxious. I stand up and walk towards the door.
"Is everything ok?", I ask, trying to be well-mannered, but immediately realise I might sound a bit nosy.
"This new album is driving me crazy."
"New album?", I ask, surprised. He laughs and shakes his head.
"Yeah. That's why I'm here. I think I told you..."
"Oh, yeah.", I pretend, as if I knew what he was talking about. "Is it cool?"
"What?"
"You know... the album. Are you confident about it?"
"I think so.", he laughs.
Christ, Layla, why is it so hard for you to small talk without sounding stupid every five minutes?
"Would you like to hear it? I could show you some songs.", he asks, taking me by surprise.
What am I supposed to answer? I obviously do. But why would he want to show it to me? It's not like I was some sort of music professional.
