Events || Harry Styles

039

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

Wishing each and every one of you an abundance of positivity and happy times this year. 💙🌻⚡️🦋

Time jump with some flashbacks this chapter! All flashbacks are italicized <3
We're getting this plot rolling (:

Sorry for any mistakes—I'm drunk from New Year's ahahahaha

Norah

How the hell did I end up here—standing beside Harry outside of his childhood home, waiting for the one and only queen herself to answer the door?

No, not Elizabeth. Anne Twist.

My hand twitched anxiously in Harry's. He tightened his hold in response. He didn't have to speak a word of reassurance. The confidence and pride he had in me and our relationship was palpable. I thought back to the whirlwind couple of weeks we had. The events went as follows:

After the first night we had sex—or, fucked, rather—each night after that, I was either at Harry's or he was at mine. Having sex with Harry opened up a whole other dimension of intimacy between us two. And not just the fact that we did the dirty and did so multiple times a day, but it was noticeable to me in the way we interacted with one another. The way he had to be wrapped around me while we slept—or at the very least, reaching out for me if I disentangled myself in my sleep when I got too hot. The way he pulled my back to his front and dropped his chin to my shoulder when I made coffee or cooked us food. Or when he was making us dinner, he'd tuck me to his side, offer me tastes of whatever he was making. If we were having a movie date at home, he'd lay his head in my lap and I'd play with his hair.

We didn't go out often, or at all for that matter, even though the public knew exactly who I was and what Norah Gates meant to Harry Styles. With all of my social media accounts on private, and my close friends' being private as well, very limited photos of myself were floating around the internet. It was the little wins that counted, right?

The one night we had decided to grab some dinner, I was surprisingly more excited than I was anxious. I dressed in a black, floral patterned blouse with a deep v-neck that I borrowed from Winter, black pants, and black open-toed heels. I curled my hair in loose waves and applied more makeup than my usual mascara and concealer. I felt pretty fucking good, and Harry had obviously thought the same thing when he came to pick me up because we were nearly 30 minutes late to our dinner reservation.

Even though he took us to a fairly unknown restaurant in downtown LA and we were able to enter the establishment without a hassle, the hour we'd spent there was enough time for paparazzi to ping our location and congregate into a crowd of flashing lights as we were leaving.

That lovely night, our first date as a public couple, was lovely. Filled with laughter, chemistry, and understanding.

"I've figured something out about you."

"What's that?"

"You have a hand kink." He shot me a wink paired with a wicked smile.

I dropped his hand from mine onto the table and choked back a gasp. The two glasses of wine I'd just finished allowed me to not feel an ounce of embarrassment. 

I pouted. "What— just because I want to hold your hand?"

He picked my hand up again, bringing it to his lips as he chuckled. "Because you can't seem to keep your eyes off my hands, and you always have this look..."

I matched his narrowed gaze. "What look?"

He kissed her knuckles once, twice. "Like you want them to do dirty things to you."