"You said, no you sang, you sang that everything was gonna be alright. You said that we'll be alright, Harry. But did you mean that?"
Where Belle Olivia Granger encounters five young boys who happen to be in the biggest boyband on the planet, and sh...
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I like him. Oh my god, I like him. I like Harry Styles. I like Harry Styles but don't stand a chance.
For starters, the summer is already over and I'm leaving tomorrow, so even if I did tell him, it wouldn't matter. Besides, he's infatuated with Taylor and seems to be convinced that I like this stupid boy at my school named Bennett Cameron. What's worse is that I'm actually helping him win over Taylor right now.
While the rest of the boys were needed at the studio, Harry finished earlier today and decided to spend my last hours in London with me. I'm thankful for it, but never did I think that things would shift from us joking about this funny video Louis sent us called The Adventurous Adventures of One Direction, to me giving him girl advice to talk to a girl that isn't me- an extremely famous and talented one that I love for that matter!
"When the two of you start dating, you better introduce me to her, or I will never forgive you," I point a finger aggressively at the boy who sits leisurely on my bed.
"If we start dating. I think she's apprehensive because of my age," Harry groans, flopping down and hitting his curly head against the pillows. His thumbs fiddle together where his hands rest against his white Rolling Stones t-shirt.
I get up from the rolly chair at my desk that I get way to much enjoyment out of and go sit on the bed next to Harry. "Can you blame her, Harry? I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but she's what... almost twenty-three, and you're only eighteen?"
"That's only a five year difference," he points out with hopeful eyes.
Sighing dramatically, I prepare to disappoint him further. "Tell that to your thirteen year old fans who write fan fiction about having-"
"Okay! That's enough," He sits up suddenly with eyes the size of saucers and mouth slightly agape. "I get it," he adds for emphasis.
I watch his face fall to one of discouragement. I never wanted to put him down, but I'm only thinking from Taylor's point of view. To her, Harry is a child no matter how mature he is. It also doesn't help that the media paints a picture of him that is the farthest thing from the truth.
Anne raised her son to be nothing but a gentleman, and he's also extremely polite, treating everyone he meets with kindness, but yet the tabloids still push the image of a womanizer on the boy. I see how badly it affects him, and I want nothing more than to assure him the people that truly know him understand that image isn't true. Yet, he still questions whether it is no matter how many times I tell him it isn't.
Suddenly, a light illuminates in his green eyes and he reaches forward, grabbing both of my hands, my small palms swimming in his large ones. My eyes watch our hands that are interconnected before they drift up to meet his green irises. "Maybe if I look older, more mature, she'll give me a real chance," he beams, face shimmering with hope.
