LIGHTHOUSE // a harry styles au

nine

"What made you want to be a realtor?" He asked the question from his perch on the stool beside you as you both assembled homemade pizza at your kitchen island.

"My mom suggested it," you spoke as you carefully sprinkled cheese around the perimeter of your dough, attempting to roll the ends to make a stuffed crust. "I wasn't sure what I wanted to do and she kinda encouraged me. I've always been good with people and I like helping. She also suggested I be a nurse but I couldn't handle the science classes. Plus I'm squeamish," you chuckled.

"Your mom is pretty special," he spoke sincerely.

"She is." You leaned over to kiss his cheek softly before returning to your assembly.

He made a point to mention how much he liked your mom before, and you couldn't help the tiny surge of pride and endearment that the feelings were mutual. She adored him.

"What about you? What made you decide to start house searching?"

"Tara suggested it," he chuckled. "Said I should manifest the things I wanted in life."

You loved how open Harry had become, freely talking about his therapist, not thinking twice about it now.

"I like that." You watched the way he carefully placed pepperoni onto his pizza. "What are you manifesting with the house?"

"A lot, I guess. I want a family. A stable home for them. Someone to love and share it with." He didn't look at you when he spoke; too hyper-focused on placing toppings on his pizza. You could tell he was fixating on the pizza more in order to get the words out. "The house felt like a good start."

"That makes sense," you assured him as you reached out to rub your palm down the center of his back, feeling the way the muscles flexed under his thin tee shirt.

"She said I should try to put myself out there more, you know, if I wanted to meet someone."

"Well yeah, you don't really seem like the online dating type," you laughed.

"She said that," he smiled over at you, watching intently as you got up to walk around to the other side of the island to slide your pizza in the oven. "I guess she was right about that too," he spoke softly, watching as you leaned across the counter to slide his pizza closer to you so you could put it in the oven next to yours.

You couldn't help but smile, a warmth crawling across your skin at his admission. "Is that why you were so specific about the house?"

He sighed heavily. "Partly. I was sort of fixated on... feeling safe... I don't know. I guess I wanted to walk in a place and just feel it from the start. I thought I'd just know it was it, you know?"

You nodded as you closed the oven and set the timer. He was playing with his fingers, elbows propped up on your counter. You walked around to him slowly, his body immediately turning towards you as he swiveled his chair. You slotted yourself between his legs, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck.

"Do you feel safe at the lot?" you asked quietly as you scratched your nails across the back of his neck.

He sighed softly, eyes flicking across your face. "I do, yeah," he murmured. His hands found your waist, pulling you even closer so that your chests were pressed close together. "I think you have something to with that, though."

Your heart sped up, one of your hands finding its way into the back of his hair. "I make you feel safe?"

"Very."

You couldn't pull your eyes from his, inhaling slowly as you sort of melted into his body. Every single thing he said made your skin erupt in goosebumps.