LIGHTHOUSE // a harry styles au

three

You were nearly thirty minutes into your forty minute drive to the cottage that sat on the outskirts of London. The townhouse you showed Harry last time didn't seem to do anything for him. Then again, you still weren't sure what would do it for him.

So you were taking him to the opposite of his last showing - a very quiet neighborhood of less than ten houses, all spread out on large pieces of land. There was a lot of shrubbery, giving lots of privacy and it was a bit smaller than the last place. It was only him, as far as you knew, so you narrowed your search down a bit and came across this two bed, two bath, stone cottage. It had a great attic space upstairs that could be repurposed into a lounge or office, whatever he wanted.

You contemplated if maybe this would be the last chance Harry got from you to find him a house. After your last meeting and the way you felt when you left there, you realized - although a lot - the money he was offering wasn't worth it. You liked getting to know your clients. You didn't want it to feel so stiff and formal. Maybe that worked for some realtors, but that wasn't your style. You cared too much, and at some points in your life that may have been viewed as a bad thing, and maybe Harry viewed things that way too. But you knew that was one of the things that helped you in your line of work; being personable, and warm, and thoughtful - all of those things helped connect with your clients. And if that made Harry Styles that uncomfortable, you'd never be able to find him a home.

You pulled your sunglasses from your center console as the mid-morning sun shone directly into your eyes. The curvy road leading to the hidden neighborhood had character, almost looking like it could have been featured in a whimsical children's book. You couldn't help but feel a small twist of nerves settle in the pit of your stomach as your GPS zeroed in on the house, announcing it was only two minutes away.

You really hoped this went better than your last few meetings.

As the house came into view, you were pleasantly surprised. The photos didn't do it justice. The stonework on the front of the house was beautiful, and the greenery surrounding the property really gave it a mellow, relaxing vibe.

The yellow clown car was already parked in the driveway. It really is so obnoxious, you thought. Its owner leaned against the driver's door, entranced as he taped away on his phone. This time, it was a black Harley-Davidson sweatshirt that caught your eye, and then a white snapback immediately pulling your attention. He wore the same athletic shorts, sneakers, and white socks pulled up mid-calf as the first time you met him. He really didn't branch out on his wardrobe, huh?

He was already looking at you when you stepped out of your car, slipping one of the arms of your sunglasses into the front of your shirt as he slid his phone back into the pocket of his shorts.

"Hi," he greeted, his voice even deeper, you noticed. It sounded rough, as if it was the first time he used it that day.

"Morning," you smiled briefly as you swung your car door shut, giving him a small glance before you started to head to the oak front door. You didn't notice when he turned around to his car to grab two coffees that were perched on the roof.

You unlocked the house as you heard him approaching, opening the door and stepping inside to wait for him to enter. He gave you a nod when he walked through the doorway, waiting off to the side as you closed the door behind him.

"This is for you," he spoke softly just as you turned around to find him extending a coffee towards you, the Saint Aymes logo immediately catching your eye. "I wasn't sure what you liked so it's just regular with cream and sugar." He spoke slowly as he passed the coffee to you. "Hope that's okay..." He had his eyes trained on your hands as you took the cup from him, your fingers just barely brushing his knuckles.