Chances || H.S.

3 | Maybe You Were Different

Harry Styles:

Fucking hell. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

I was so wrapped up in the taste of her that I didn't even let my brain register that she said my name. Jesus Christ, this is bad. Well,...is it?

Shit, I don't know. 

She must have noticed me go rigid in her arms, because suddenly she's pulling away from me. 

"What's wrong?" She asks me, and I fight the urge to laugh in her face. But this isn't really her fault. It is mine for trusting that maybe she didn't know who I was. 

"Um....I don't know. Do I really have to say?" I don't look at her, instead looking down to twist my rings; a nervous habit. I try not to be short with her. I am not mad at her and it wouldn't be fair to be mad at her, I am just...frustrated. 

"What? Is it the fact that you just played a sold out show at Bridgestone tonight?" Her boldness is back and my stomach flips, confirming that she does in fact know who I am. 

"I gotta be honest, I am more impressed by the mind blowing orgasm you just gave me than that small fact." God can this woman let me breathe? She shows no sign of backing down from this conversation. 

"Well, can I at least get your name now? Seeing-as you know exactly just who I am?" A small grin ghosts her lips. I can tell she's a bit tired and shit so am I, especially after my damn near anxiety attack. 

"It's Easton." 

"Easton." I repeat, letting the name fall off my lips. 

"Harry, I really don't give a shit that you are who you are." 

I look at her, I mean really look at her. 

"When I saw you standing at the bar, I had a split second decision to either talk to you or regret it for the rest of my life." Her eyes roam over my body and for the second time tonight I found myself wishing I could shrink into this mattress. "You see what I chose. Was I wrong for my decision?" 

I feel completely vulnerable knowing that she has all of the power in this situation wether she realizes it or not. 

"I'm sorry if you feel like I lied to you." I shake my head and look away from her, trying to be present in the moment and not overthink. She is saying all of the right things but I just don't know if I can believe her. I don't know why I thought this was at all a good idea. 

"Can you look at me?" 

I don't know if I can. 

"Harry,"

"What? What do you want me to say?" I finally question her. I try to reel it back in, but I am overwhelmed.

"I let my guard down for one night," she lets me go on and makes no move to back away from me. 

"One night, and I thought maybe you were different." As soon as I said the words, I instantly regretted them. At no point tonight did she ever pressure me into anything. For god sakes she's the only one who got any sort of relief. And I loved giving it to her. 

She steps away from me, putting a few feet of distance between us. As soon as she's out of my reach, I found myself missing her warmth. What the fuck is wrong with me right now?

"Really?" She's closed off now, and any chance I thought I may have had to try and take back my words seems to be out the window. Regardless if I am mad at myself, she doesn't deserve this. 

"I'm sorry, I..." I trail off and she looks anywhere but at me. 

"No. I get it." Her voice is quiet, like she's trying to fight off the embarrassment I am sure that I have caused her. 

"Can you just...go?" Her arms are crossed in front of her as I nod and stand up from the bed. I cross the room to stand in front of her, causing her to finally look up at me. I don't know why but I feel incredibly guilty that I know I hurt her. To be honest, she gave me the best night I have had in a very long time. 

"Let me make this up to you, please." The words fill the silence before I can stop myself. Something flashes in her eyes, but I can't read it. 

"It's fine, Harry. You don't have to do anything for me. You've done enough." 

Ouch. 

"Please?" I repeat myself. She stares up at me trying to figure me out, for once not looking through me like a glass window. 

"I'll give you my number." Is all she says before she turns out of the room, beckoning me to follow her. When we get to the kitchen I finally see the time on the stove reads three in the morning. I roll my eyes, knowing that I have to be at the studio somewhat early tomorrow. 

Instead of asking for my phone, she takes a sheet of paper off of her fridge and scribbles the number down. No name, nothing. Just the number. 

"Only call me if you aren't gonna be a dick about this." She shoves the paper to my chest and I take it from her fingers. She all but shoves me towards the door as if she's trying to convince herself to actually kick me out. I have to remind myself, don't forget, Harry, you're the one who freaked the fuck out on her. 

She opens the door and I almost fall out into the hallway. I turn to look at her one last time before she can slam it in my face. 

"I mean it, Harry. Only if you aren't going to be a dick." Her expression falters for just a moment, a small frown settling on her lips. I go to speak, but my words are stuck on my tongue as the door closes, leaving me in the hallway alone. 

I deserved this, to be kicked out after I insulted her the way that I did. But I couldn't help it. I felt used, but I am not sure why. She never once made me feel anything but normal. I felt like I could have laid there and talked to her for hours. 

I can't sit outside her door forever, I have to get some sort of sleep if I want the studio session to go well tomorrow, well, today I guess. 

I call my driver and apologize for the late call, but he doesn't question me as I give the name of the apartment complex. I sit in silence in the lobby as I wait for him.

If I had never met Easton tonight, I would have just gone home and laid in my bed until my eyes couldn't stand to stay open anymore. Another night where I am alone with my thoughts.

Within minutes, he is pulling up to the front door and I push off the wall to leave the complex. As I go to step into the car, I turn around one last time and something catches my eye.

I look up and a few floors above me to the right, I see her looking down at me from her window, a faint glow of a lamp behind her. But as soon as she notices that she was caught, her silhouette disappears from the glass, a curtain now replacing her. 

I sigh and pull the door closed behind me. I can't believe I fucked this up. Well actually, I can believe that I fucked this up. I run my hands through my hair and lean back against the leather seat, overall frustrated with how this promising night turned out.  

"Where are we headed, Sir?" My driver Roger politely asks, as if he can tell something is clearly wrong with me. I glance one more time back up at the window, hoping maybe she was watching for me again, but it was still empty. I turn my head back to see his eyes on me through the rearview mirror as he waits for my answer.

"Just..." I sigh, "take me home, please." 

AUTHORS NOTE:

I am so glad that I have a few readers on this story. I truly am so invested already in these characters and it is only the third chapter. You finally got to meet our little spitfire, Easton OR at least find out her name. Harry is really in for it with her, but I love it. I have a lot of things planned for this story, and I know this chapter is shorter and I am sorry for that, but I promise it is for good reason. OKAY SORRY THIS WAS SO LONG ILY BYE also pls comment because I am a commenter and I love reading comments okay bye.