Infatuation
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"I think that you can definitely be infatuated with someone the first time you see them -"
I pause as I think about what exactly I wanted to say as we looked up at the stars in the warm summer night.
While she awaits for me to continue my speech I could feel her eyes on me. And I know if I would move my head to the side to look at her, those beautiful hazel eyes of hers would hold me captive, like they do every single fucking time.
"And then you can fall in love with them afterwards." I finished my sentence and dare to glance at her, just to confirm that her eyes were already on me.
"You seem so sure about that." She narrowed her eyes at me which make me think she didn't believe a word I said.
Well believe me if someone said these types of things to me two months ago, I wouldn't believe them either and would think they are insane.
But apparently I've lost my mind. And it's all because of you.
Dalia Lynn Evans.
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"Why do you care?" he asks. But it's not soft. It's sharp, defensive, like he's already bracing for the answer. I want to tell him the truth. Because you saved me. Because you're the only one who makes me feel real. Because if you fall apart, I don't know what happens to the rest of us. Instead, I just say, "Maybe I want to understand." He scoffs, no humor in it. "You don't. Trust me." Silence stretches between us. Then he steps forward, close enough that I can see the way his hands won't stop shaking. "You already know too much," he says, voice low. "More than you ever should've." I don't look away. "Then tell me the rest." He shakes his head. "It's not your place. You don't get to ask." "But I am asking." He exhales sharply. "Jesus, Lily. This isn't a story with a clean ending. I'm not a mystery. I'm a goddamn warning sign. I'm dangerous." I flinch, but I don't move. And that pisses him off more. He takes a step back like he's going to leave, then pauses. His eyes flick to my jacket. In one quick motion, he reaches in and pulls out the burner phone. "I think this belongs to me," he says, tone sharp but quiet. No accusation. Just fact. I don't respond. Just watch as he slips it into his pocket, like closing a door I wasn't supposed to open. He looks at me for one long second, jaw clenched. "Go home," he says again, this time like a warning. And this time, I believe him. He crushes the cigarette under his boot, turns his back, and walks down the alley, leaving me standing in the dark. - Lily didn't ask to be assigned to him. Harry Styles is a name whispered like a warning, famous for his ink, infamous for everything else. Brooding. Untouchable. But Lily has a habit of looking too closely. And when she finds something she shouldn't, the line between curiosity and consequence begins to blur. He told her to stay away. She should've listened. - TW: emotional abuse, manipulation, drugs, sex, violence, trauma.
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