Running [h.s.]

thirty three | luna

Luna's fit for this chapter^

We arrive at the nice restaurant Harry picked for us tonight and we pull into the small parking lot, Harry expertly swerving his car into a spot. His hand stayed holding mine the entire drive there, his other hand on the wheel to drive. He kept apologizing for the way he acted at the studio, and I know he means it, he was only trying to look out for me. It means a lot that he cares so much for me, although I don't need him getting in fights to defend my honor. He isn't my white knight, and I'm no damsel in distress.

We climb out of the car, Harry finally letting go of my hand. Although, as soon as he can, he intertwines them again as we walk towards the entrance of the restaurant. I use my other hand to adjust my sweater and skirt, the outfit I changed into in the bathroom of the dance studio.

He picked an asian restaurant, I believe it is Japanese. He says it's one of his favorites and he frequently eats here with his bandmates.

As we approach the door to the restaurant, I see a blinding flash in my periphery, and Harry and I both snap our heads to see what caused it. Several more flashes follow, and I notice a man taking pictures of Harry and me, his huge camera supplying the flashing light, and Harry squeezes my hand tighter. "Fuck," he growls. "Paparazzi."

He dips his head down and angles his large body to block me from the view of the camera as he reaches out and opens the door of the restaurant, allowing me to enter. As soon as we are inside, I glance out the window, noticing the man still outside, looking through the pictures he took on his camera. How did they know Harry was here? How often do these people follow poor Harry?

We proceed towards the hostess, and Harry asks if there is a private table in the back of the restaurant, obviously not wanting the paparazzi to observe our dinner through the window. Fucking creep.

She weaves us through the restaurant, bringing us to a private room in the back with only a few tables. There's another couple seated by the door to the room, but we are seated in the back against the wall, giving us plenty of space and maximum privacy. The ceiling houses a large glittering chandelier, dimly lighting the room in a soft glow. Our table is small, making Harry's long legs touch mine under the table. We fit our knees in between one another like a puzzle to accommodate for the tight space, but honestly, I'm glad we are seated so close. The candle on our table illuminates his face in the most exquisite way, and I am trying not to drool over the godlike sight.