oh, anna [-hs]

gotta get up

a/n ooh another update! are ya ready??

16.

As he pulls up to the restaurant, I immediately feel a pang of embarrassment. This place is expensive. I can already tell. There's a valet out front, and a ton of reporters. I'm guessing they tipped off the press that Harry Styles was eating here tonight? Or maybe they're always at the entrance, waiting like vultures to take pictures of any celebrity that walks in.

The sun is setting into nothingness now, making their camera flashes especially bright. As we wait in line for the valet, Harry turns to me.

"If you want, you can get out now and wait inside for me. I would understand if you don't want us photographed together."

"It's because of my outfit isn't it," I tease, still wearing what I had worn at the airport this morning. Nothing too bad, my blue midi skirt I thrifted (I had done a diy a couple weeks back and removed the pleats, Emma helped a lot), a white graphic tee, soft gray blazer, and sneakers. 

But if I had known I was going to be here, I would have dressed up a little more maybe. He laughs and shakes his head.

"No, you look incredible. I just mean, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. It's going to be a little crazy."

"Have we been photographed before?" I ask. I genuinely don't know, I don't really look at tabloids, and the last time I googled anything about Harry was to find his song he wrote about me on YouTube. He stares for a second, and then slowly nods.

"A few times in New York, yeah. Before you went to France."

"Then what's a couple more," I shrug and smile. He's accepting of this, turning back to face the line and easing onto the gas as we inch up a little more. A valet approaches his window and knocks lightly on it. Harry puts the car in park and takes out the keys, he turns to look at me one final time.

"Are you ready?" He asks. I nod reassuringly. "Stay with me."

We open our doors simultaneously and Harry hands the valet the keys, speaking to him quietly. For a moment, the reporters don't notice him, as he's hidden from view from behind the car. But then he coughs, runs a hand through his hair, and walks around the hood, and a wave of sound hits me, along with a wall of lights.

I blink dumbly, not used to the chaos unfolding. I can't seem to move my feet. I just stare at the crowd of reporters and tightly clutch my purse in my hand. I feel something on my arm, and I turn to see Harry gently reaching out for me. He shouts something at me over their voices, but I have no idea what he says. I just awkwardly nod.

He reaches his hand down and his fingers interlock with mine, firmly holding on, like an anchor in the hurricane happening around me. To be honest, I don't even know what the reporters are shouting. I wonder if when Harry said I would be famous, if this is what he meant. At first I thought he was referring to my filming, that I would become famous because of my work, but now I'm not so sure. Now I wonder if he meant I would become famous because of him. He said it so confidently, like it had happened to others before me.