Rumor Has It [ A Harry Styles OU ]

sixteen

WARNING: This story will contain a brief singular mention of physical abuse, ptsd, heavy alcohol consumption, blackmail, smut, and the death of a parent. This chapter also contains smut.

Harry loves watching Ishika in her element.

Her performances put his to shame, he thinks, as he watches her with a proud smile at her rehearsal. It's one of the first full-blown rehearsals for her IIFA performance — costumes, music, backup dancers and all. She's halfway through the run, six of the twelve minutes under the belt, and there haven't been any major hitches. She's focused on her work, the precise dance moves, the playful facial expressions and ornate, iconic movie moments she's replicating from her mother. But when she catches his eyes on the edge of the set, her smile brightens just a little bit more.

It makes him happy, watching all her hard work come to fruition. He knows watching her the actual day of her performance will be a big deal too, but something about getting a sneak peek — a behind-the-scenes look — makes him feel special. All those nights she spent staying up, agonizing over which songs and movies and moments to highlight in her limited time slot, the long video and phone calls with her designer, the choreographer and different groups of backup dancers, it's all starting to pay off. The logistics of a Bollywood performance are nothing compared to the work he's done. The coordination of music, dance, and people is so difficult. She's worked so hard and he's so proud of her.

And he should be, because she's killing it out there. She hasn't stumbled once and Harry watches her in her sky blue Indian clothes, the third and final costume of her set, twirling around. Watching Ishika is entrancing when she's doing the mundane, but when she's at work — it's like nothing he's ever seen before. He knows she'll deny it, or look away, if he tells her how talented she is — but not even he can articulate just how enthralling it is to watch her.

She's taking his breath away.

While Harry's becoming more and more used to that happening, he's also having a hard time with her routine at the moment. It's just a song, just a dance, but this particular two minute bit of the routine has the plethora of male backup dancers behind her practically drooling over her. The fast pace of the music slows and each move Ishika makes, the men around her hang onto. The flick of her hips, the raise of her arms, the tap of her feet. He knows it's for the effect, for the song, but when she turns around, parting the crowd of men and they all fall back to let her through with their eyes focused on her hips, or her ass really, who knows — the neck of Harry's already loose shirt feels too tight.

When she comes back, the crowd descends around her, creating a nice visual impact, but Harry doesn't like it, and especially when it opens up again and he spots various hands on her body — her bare waist, her arms. The scene is over before he knows it, though, the dancers pretending to faint from her movements as she shakes them off, and the music track effortlessly fades into another classic — ushering the end of the routine in.