Ghost Writer [Harry Styles][H.S. Fanfic]

9 - SEE YOU AGAIN

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My heart feels like it dropped straight to my butt, and I would like nothing more than for the ground to open up beneath my feet and swallow me whole.

Harry's incognizant ability to sweep the rug out from underneath me with one simple, endearing look... it's a fucking law unto itself. He could damn near ask me to do just about anything while staring at me the way he is, and I wouldn't think twice.

He'd tell me to 'Jump,' and I'd say, 'How high?'

That thought alone scares the ever-living daylights out of me. I don't enjoy being at the mercy of other people... Not anymore. I don't blindly hand over my trust like I used to. And he is making me second guess myself in that sense. Because I feel like he already possesses it, and I barely know him.

"I, uh... sure?" My questioning response doesn't seem to faze him in the least, because a relieved smile spreads across those perfectly plump lips.

He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can get a word out edgewise, Niall strolls up next to us, eyeballing our interaction inquisitively. His gaze flickers between Harry and me before a devilish smirk crawls up his face.

"I have the studio for another forty-five minutes, but I have to get going for another meeting. So, that gives you two plenty of private time to," he raises his hands to add air quotes, "catch up." He wiggles his eyebrows at me suggestively as Harry throws his arms up in annoyance.

Before my internal filter had the opportunity to do its job, I lower my head to give him a pointed look. "Your ass has got to be jealous of the shit that comes out of your mouth."

"I'd say my ass is more supportive than anything," he cackles, craning his head around to look down at his behind, giving the left cheek a little pat. "Isn't that right, buddy?"

Did this grown 'ass' man... mind the pun... just talk to his ass like it was a person?

I snort, shaking my head, "You do not understand what kind of skill set it takes for a person to have me utterly stumped from having a witty retort... but congratulations, Niall... you just did it."

"Yes," he hisses through his teeth, throwing his fist in the air before drawing it down in victory, then turning to Harry to pat him on the back. "Harry, you should invite her to the party."

As soon as I hear the suggestion of me attending a party, in reflex my head shakes side-to-side to protest, screwing my face up like my entire body is rejecting the concept. I don't do parties. I don't do socializing.

Harry's eyebrows shoot up, and he glances at me keenly, raising his shoulders in silent question as if he were too nervous to ask me out loud.

"Oh, no thanks. I-" Before I can finish my excuse, Niall unsurprisingly interjects, placing his hand over my mouth.

"C'mon," he whines. "It'll be fun. And apart from work, who knows when we'll see each other again after I fly home to London. Please, Fireball?" He gives me the most pathetic puppy dog face, pouting out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes at me behind his thick horn-rimmed glasses.

"Mitch and Sarah will be there too, so you won't be alone," Harry adds, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip expectantly. "You should come. It won't be anything extravagant. Just a few close friends to let loose a bit."