Story cover for Playing Dirty with Harry Styles by SpringDreams
Playing Dirty with Harry Styles
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  • WpView
    Reads 10,569
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    Votes 183
  • WpPart
    Parts 1
  • WpHistory
    Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Feb 15, 2013
Brooklynn giggled, running her fingers slowly down Harry’s arm, down to his fingertips, causing goose bumps to appear on his arm.  He smirked at the girl who’d suddenly approached him in the deserted pub.  Breathing heavily he leaned in, smirking at her petite appearance.  She flinched as his warm breath tingled her neck. 

"You don’t usually see girls like you at a pub," He smirked, leaving a hot peck on her neck.  She smiled craning her neck upward.  

“I’m just not your normal girl, I guess.” She breathed lightly, tugging on the collar of his blue polo shirt.

"So you liked it." Harry pointed out but she just smiled.

She wrapped both her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear.

"Nice try, lover boy. Maybe next time." 

And with that she strode off, leaving a baffled Harry Styles in the middle of the pub watching her walk away.
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Rain drummed against the windows of the café, a steady rhythm that softened the low hum of conversation and the faint clinking of cups. Claire Morrone stood behind the counter, her fingers absently fiddling with the edge of her apron as her eyes drifted to her notebook lying open on the counter. A half-finished lyric stared back at her, mocking in its incompleteness. The bell above the door jingled, and a gust of wind carried in a drenched figure. Claire glanced up, offering her standard, polite smile-until she recognized him. Harry Styles. The Harry Styles, hair dripping, clothes clinging to his frame, and an air of untouchable charm despite the weather. He pulled his hood back, shaking off droplets like a stray dog finding shelter. "Rough out there," he said, his voice warm, deep, and effortlessly disarming. "Coffee?" Claire asked, grabbing a cup before he even nodded. He slid onto a stool at the counter, his green eyes scanning the room before landing on her notebook. "You a poet?" "Not really." She closed the notebook a little too quickly, her cheeks warming. Harry chuckled, a low, melodic sound. "Always wanted to be a poet. Never quite made it past the 'dumb' part." +++ short story