Inherent

The need to fiddle with my dress is strong, but Harry’s arm around my waist restricts a lot of the would-be obsessive pulls and prods… and there also might be a part of me that feels like a nervous kid in his presence, and so I don’t want to draw any more attention to my nerves than I surely already have. It’s how I really feel, though, especially with the beautiful women queuing in the lineup as we pass them by on our way into the Castle. They’re all tall, busty, gorgeous and confident. The exact opposite of everything I possess.

Harry’s hold on me is tight, secure and almost possessive as he walks with me as close as possible to his side. At least I guess as much based on my previous experience with him out in public, although I don’t even spare any of the men around us so much as a second glance. In fact, I’m so nervous I don’t even have the courage to look anyone in the eye. I try hard to take comfort in Harry like I have done so many times before, but everyone’s attention is on us and it all just causes my face to burn pathetically while I keep my gaze trained on my little black heels, ensuring I don’t trip.

Now that would be embarrassing. I’d probably cry, and then I think my anxiety level after that would be kicked up to a notch of about totally freaking mortified.

With these thoughts my heart races, blood rushing to my head with a roar in my ears, and I’m almost sure I have tunnel vision. A few camera flashes even erupt, and I suspect Harry might be downplaying the level of importance truly has. His level of importance to all of this, to Chicago. It’s funny—I’ve not once thought of him as anything other than Harry, the man set in his stubborn, chivalrous ways, the man who saw my list and for some reason still unknown decided to starting crossing each item from it. The man who buys Chinese takeout and just wants someone to care for him, not for who he obviously is to everyone out here.

Seeing him in this new light isn’t exactly bad, but it does remind me Harry has many sides to him. Some sides I’m willing to bet I haven’t witnessed yet, too.

“It’s alright, love,” Harry murmurs close to my ear, and it causes another set of goose bumps to rush down my arms in combination with the night’s slight chill. With such a crowd surrounding us, though they do move out of the way for Harry to get through, feels too suffocating for me to form a reply.

What he says contradicts reality because I just now notice a member of security—Ty, as I remember from my last visit here judging from his still present dark faux hawk—and it hits me again exactly how influential Harry really is to the city. I kick myself for not listening to all the gossip and news Vivian always has at ready disposal. If I did, maybe I would have had a better idea of what I’d be walking into with him tonight.

That might have just scared me away from the event altogether, though.

“I’m sorry,” he continues when I remain mute, putting forth all my brain power into keeping calm. It’s funny, even right now through all the stress I don’t have one fear about fainting like I might have months ago. Harry gives me strength to stay calm and avoid those disasters, I realize, even when I might be upset.

It would be difficult at best for him to hear anything I could possibly say in my usual soft tone over everyone else as they all talk loudly, their voices mingling into one confusing cacophony under the thrumming beat of music easily decipherable from within the club. The fresh, cool air momentarily serves to keep me alert and closer to reality.

“I should have warned you.”

“It’s fine,” I attempt to assure him but the small tremor in my voice tells otherwise. The last thing I want is for my anxious presence to ruin his celebration… which would be the opposite of what I set out to accomplish tonight, so I reason with myself that as soon as we break through the crowd and get inside, into the welcoming atmosphere I recall, things will be okay.

“I’m fine,” I say it again and aloud, and more to convince myself than anything. Harry frowns at my blatant lie just as a man at the large, looming wooden door opens it for us without a single word and only a respectful nod in Harry’s direction. I breathe an outward sigh of relief as soon as the door shuts behind us, the overwhelming sounds from outside drowned out by the loud, powerful music.

“No, you’re not,” Harry rejects my claim as soon as it is uttered, and he halts just beyond the entrance where another member of security is posted. Ty scurries away with a similar courteous nod in Harry’s direction.

Out in the lobby, though, only staff is around right now. The marble floors feel slippery underneath my heels, and I clutch onto Harry’s arm for a little more support. Overhead, dim romantic lighting casts a warming glow on the room’s contents, though the scattered flash of strobe lights seeps in through the mouth of the lobby from deeper inside on the dance floor. All I smell, as usual, is Harry’s familiarized cologne. It’s all I am ever attuned to within a three meter radius of him, though it is far from overpowering.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, Jules. I’m lost,” he speaks quietly so as to give us some semblance of privacy from the security member, but Harry’s deep voice is easily decipherable despite his best effort. He doesn’t let me go, and I don’t want him to.

Before I can get a word out two giggling girls pause at the front of the lobby, having just come from further inside. Both look similar to a lot of the women I saw outside—blonde, tan, busty, and wearing dresses which more resemble lingerie. Their fingers are busy tapping at their phones, but that doesn’t stop their surprised glance when they see Harry and I out here. Then, much to my mortification, they start whispering obviously to each other. My face burns as I wonder if they are talking about Harry’s arrival or the fact that I am his inferior date. That’s low self-esteem for you.

Jaw jumping, he casts the girls a long scathing glace as soon as he sees I’m so affected by their entrance, and gentle fingers sweep my chin up to bring my line of sight from the floor to meet his own intense, jaded eyes. He’s getting angry, and I already feel like crap. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” I struggle to word this so I don’t sound as self-loathing as I truly am. “I feel… out of place.”

As soon as I finally admit my number one insecurity aloud, so quiet it’s almost inaudible so the women across the room won’t hear, he tenses and I start to grow nervous as the action draws even more attention to the both of us. Or at least—in my mind it does. Instinctively, I look back to the floor and avoid Harry’s eyes as he studies me closely with that same frown, tinged with disbelief and perhaps even a little irritation. At this moment I feel like a lab animal under close observation, my appearance and behaviour totally foreign to those surrounding me.

Here in this revealing, stupid dress and heels and makeup, I feel like a joke; hapless. Because there’s no way I could ever impress Harry’s friends, there is no makeup that could hide or dresses to pretty up all that is hiding underneath. Past all of this, I am still the weird book store girl with the heart disorder.

“You’re not,” he declares forcefully, cupping my jaw and forcing me to look at him after I duck my head in shame again. The intensity which lights the dark green of his irises shocks me. “You belong right here. You belong right here, with me.”

He stresses each word to further get his point across, and I have no choice but to nod through stupidly watering eyes. Blinking back the tears with a valiant effort, I get a hold of myself and reality comes rushing back—not the reality I just constructed where I look like a total fool, a peasant in the presence of royalty. Reality where I’ve spent the last several months happier than I have ever been, and it is all thanks to the man standing in front of me, angered by my insecurities we both thought we were past.

I have no choice but to believe him when he speaks with such passion.

“Say it for me,” he instructs, louder this time. I know now for sure this is something Harry is bent on getting through to me, one way or another. I try to hastily glance back, embarrassed someone might overhear. The girls have since gone quiet, probably to try and listen in on our private conversation. Harry doesn’t relinquish my jaw, however, and he forces my attention to remain on him.

“I belong here,” I say shakily, quiet and as courageous as a skittering, cornered mouse. The words, as much as I want them to, don’t sit right. They don’t feel true, and that hurts more than anything. “With you.”

Harry shakes his head slightly in disappointment, heavy gaze unwavering, visibly unpleased with my whispered response. “Again.”

“Harry,” I desperately plead, this confrontation too unexpected and too much for me to handle period.

“I don’t care if anyone’s watching. Say it like you mean it.” I start to feel lightheaded at his all but growled out order. No, Harry certainly does not like me doubting myself. It hasn’t been brought up in a long, long time… perhaps not since he made us official, and that thankfully is because those feelings hadn’t the opportunity to rear their ugly heads.

At the same time as I grow desperate, frustration sprouts with the situation. With being placed in it unwillingly—and I don’t want to say something I have a hard time believing as if I really mean it. I don’t want to lie to Harry more than I already have. Out of chagrin morphed into exasperation, I huff and pointedly look him in the eye without any of my previous hesitation or his coaxing, though I can’t bring myself to say what he wants to hear.

He frowns at the sight of my reluctance. Leaning closer, he whispers hotly into my hair. My mouth dries as soon as I feel the heat of his body close to mine and his mouth brushing against the shell of my ear. “If anyone is looking at us, Jules, it’s because they are stunned by how jaw-droppingly sexy you are in this little dress.”

The blood simultaneously drains from my face, making me feel light-headed, and then my entire body seems feels as if it has been ignited with an intense heat at the same second while I process what Harry said… that he called me sexy. Though quite a few desire fueled looks in his eyes have portrayed the same opinion before, Harry has never been so blunt as to express his view aloud. I get the sense he is much more about showing his appreciation rather than admitting it verbally… he’s much more into feeling rather than telling.

I really must be a sight, paling only to launch into such a fierce, flustered blush, but Harry remains just as intense and serious when he rears back to survey my reaction. Hardly able to think after he has shocked me yet again, I tighten my jaw and square my loosened shoulders. Smirking, Harry appears to be pleased with my new sliver of confidence, as faint as it may be.

“I belong here,” I say, quiet though with conviction I don’t often possess. “With you.”

And I do. I believe in him, and I believe in myself.

Seemingly satisfied, Harry draws me closer, all hard muscles and heady cologne, to place a pointed kiss to my lips. He knows those girls are watching, and I know this moment might be a little more than just about boosting my confidence—or at least trying to. It’s about Harry and I, and our first time facing the public. His admirers included.

I suppose you could say, when I decide to bring one bold hand up to the back of his neck and tangle my fingers into his silky curls as my lips willingly mold to his, anxiety momentarily forgotten, that this is me staking my claim over him. Because I realize it doesn’t matter if those girls think I am something of a joke—because Harry doesn’t. Harry accepts me.

Then before I can process much or think enough to wig out again we’re off, striding through the lobby and into the main part of the club. Harry guides me, still as close as possible to his side with a possessive hold, past the dance floor and toward the stairs I remember so well. I keep up with him while maintaining a surprising amount of grace, and I’d be a fool not to think it isn’t all because of Harry’s on the spot pep talk.

The Castle is just as I remember it from months ago: totally alive and pulsing with energy. I’m almost tempted to stay down on the lower level just to revel in the music, the dancing crowd, the atmosphere as a whole. To really take it in for all it’s worth like I wouldn’t allow myself last time. But Harry, of course, has other ideas, and I have a feeling if I was without him and by myself I wouldn’t be so game for trying something new. He pulls me up the extravagant marble staircase which reminds me so much of The Uptown now that I’m aware of its existence. I start to realize maybe Harry took a lot of inspiration from the theater when he designed this place… which, I must admit, I love.

“Just relax, be yourself. I’m right here with you. Don’t be afraid to tell me if you need anything,” Harry mentions, sincere and close to my ear again so I can hear him over the beat of the music. A little nervous now at the idea of meeting his friends in just a few seconds, I push my hair back from the side of my face even though it isn’t in the way and try to maintain my flitting composure.

“I’ll be alright,” I reply, leaning into him for support. He’s the only person I have ever truly depended on, and the only to never let me down either. I trust Harry, and this is just another check mark on my imaginary list of all the things that need to be in order for me to tell him.

Not much left, now. And there hasn’t been for a long time—just excuses.

The need to check my appearance in the bathroom one more time just to make sure is strong, but I convince myself I look good as I’m going to get. Internally I recite Harry’s mantra he forced me to repeat. You belong here. If Harry believes it, then it’s true.

Ty is at the top of the stairs again; he graces us both with a smile before nodding off toward the left and Harry follows his direction. We breeze past the other club goers, everything feeling so elite just from being in the Solar, and soon we end up at a sectioned off part which before now I haven’t gotten a glimpse of—a quieter, lounge-like area where no one has to yell at each other so conversations can be had and there aren’t any strobe lights pointed directly in your line of sight.

Sleek sofas are set up across from each other, double the length of a normal couch, all black leather with chrome furnishing. It reminds me of Harry’s house, and the long table between them showcases perhaps a dozen or so full and empty glasses. Seated are quite a few people, all of whom I don’t recognize.

This place is more private than the main Solar itself.

I visibly tense when Harry steers us toward the small crowd.

“Nothing to worry about,” he reminds me playfully, and I’m thankful he manages to have a sense of humour about all of my anxiety. If I had to deal with myself, I wouldn’t last more than an hour with my thin patience.

Nodding, I glance briefly up to him for more reassurance and try to appear as composed as I wish I could feel under such pressure. Harry sees straight through my ruse, of course, though he nods to himself and guides me closer. With each step I grow more and more nervous. I can feel my pulse at my neck, my hands turn clammy and I’m temporarily happy Harry is not holding them so he doesn’t take note of the dead give-away, and I can feel a sweat break out over my body through another wave of heat.

They’re just his friends. Just his friends… not his parents or anyone equally as close or important. So the stakes are high, but not so high I wouldn’t be able to handle the situation at all.

This isn’t a courthouse; they aren’t going to pass judgement on me in a single second upon my first stammer or nervous eye contact. Even though that is exactly what Vivian plans to do tonight, with Harry.

Belatedly, I remember I need to text her again after she (surprise, surprise) didn’t respond to the first message I sent while still in the car. Likewise, I’m well aware of the fact that Harry is a very private person—I’m not sure whether or not he’s told anyone about us, and for a long time I was fine with as much—but if he wants me to meet these individuals… well, they logically must be close enough to Harry for him to trust them. High stakes, I realize again.

To think about how much has changed since the last time I came to The Castle is mind boggling. Here I am tonight, months later, on Harry’s arm when not long ago I probably would have laughed then cried if someone had told me I would be in this situation, with him. So much has changed, for the better. And there isn’t any going back now. Somehow I manage to keep my light, pleasant smile intact and I don’t shuffle nervously as we approach the group I just know are Harry’s friends.

One of them stands as soon as we are in his line of sight. He appears to be about the same age as Harry and perhaps an inch or so taller with even crazier, upturned hair. It does well in helping him totally tower over me as he draws closer, wearing a large grin with a drink in one hand. Dressed casually, I can already tell he is friends with Harry just because of their similar style—ripped black jeans, a plaid shirt, and a pair of boots which remind me of the pair Harry has worn out.

“Ah, Mr. Styles himself! Back from whichever cave he decided to throw himself into,” he chirps his greeting with a playful wink sent my way, and on a booming laugh Harry breaks away from me to do one of those usual half hugs men exchange where they slap each other on the backs.

“And you.” The man points to me after they part and Harry is quick to return to my side. “Must be the reason for his hiding.”

If possible, I shrink under his good-natured accusatory finger and end up grasping a hold of Harry’s shirt at the bottom of his back for support, near his belt.

“Hi,” I say, attempting not to let my timidity show through in my soft spoken tone. I find I’m unable to help it, as ready as I thought I was, but to be shy. Harry’s smile widens at my first spoken word since his friend approached.

“Nicholas Grimshaw, you have the great pleasure meeting my girlfriend, Julia Townsend.” His friend pretends to be totally flabbergasted, angling his ear toward Harry while he presses a hand to his hip.

“Did I hear that right? Girlfriend?”

“You heard right,” Harry confirms, prouder than I have ever seen him, and he looks more than happy to divulge in the secret. Something tells me this night—going public—is much more of a big deal than I originally anticipated and way more than Harry let on. To me, it almost feels as if he might have brought me here tonight for this very purpose… to show me off, even though I’m of the opinion I’m not much to show off. “Spread the word, Grimmy.”

Surprisingly, Harry nudges me away from him and toward his jovial friend. On a minuscule amount of nervous eye contact, I offer my hand to shake only for him to shock me after he takes me by the wrist and pulls me in for a brief, almost cautious hug. “Call me Nick, love,” he comments as we pull apart. From such a minimal amount of contact from this new acquaintance, I just know I must be blushing like hell. A long time ago I accepted it would be the main tell to my true, flustered feelings, and tonight is no exception. Though surprised by Nick’s friendliness, it is obvious he likes me seemingly just because I’m Harry’s girlfriend. And I like him, too. Straight away.

“It’s nice to meet you, Nick,” I say in return, relaxing at the appearance of a friendly face. One down… how many more to go? I only hope the rest are as quickly accepting.

He grins. “The pleasure is all mine, darling.”

Nick seems to like the use of pet names more than Harry does. At this point, while Harry shakes his head at the slightly taller man’s antics and steps forward to tangle his fingers between mine again, I start to think tonight might not be so bad after all. Nick doesn’t seem put off at all by my shyness, and so I take it as a good start. He gestures grandly from Harry and I and then to the sofas, clearly bent on having us sit down. I don’t mind—sitting down is better than standing and risking the chance of tripping into someone or causing them to spill their drinks.

I cross my legs as soon as I sit next to Harry, the leather cold on the exposed portion of my skin, and curse my short dress because now it rides up to show more thigh than I feel comfortable with. Harry’s mouth curves into a frown when he notices I’ve sat close next to him, his gaze travelling along my fidgeting fingers and legs, and I breathe a sharp intake of air when he grasps me by the hip and easily pulls me onto his lap.

Perhaps it’s a good thing Harry doesn’t allow me a single moment to think or even protest before he launches in to talking again, with Nick. I glance around heatedly to try and get a glimpse of everyone’s reaction, but no one seems to mind in particular what has just unfolded, as used to Harry’s forwardness as I am also getting.

In fact, Harry’s forward behaviour appears to be considered totally normal by them too.

“I met Nick just before I moved from England to over here. He’s visiting for a few weeks… he likes to spend a lot of time in the states,” Harry explains his relationship with the other British man with a contented smile and Nick nods to confirm the facts. Meanwhile, my face burns furiously as Harry idly rests a hand on the outside of my thigh, almost at my hip in what I have learned to be a possessive gesture. If anyone were to throw me a second glance, they would first clue in on Harry’s obvious claim over me.

The more surprising part about that, perhaps, is I’m completely fine with his sly idea. Really, I take comfort in that we have this sofa totally to ourselves, the one across from us lined with people while others lounge on the armrest of the other. Very quickly Harry guides me through each face and puts a name to them, and near the end of it I have six new ones to remember and sincerely doubt I will be at all successful.

“The Castle throws the best parties,” Nick says with a barking laugh. “Haz hasn’t been around for much of it lately, though.”

I lean against Harry’s chest, and if I want to be honest the position he moved us to is much more comfortable than the one I first sought. No longer do I feel quite so alone or vulnerable. Ask me three months ago if I thought I would be sat in The Castle’s Solar on top of Harry Styles’ lap, and I would have laughed again. Obnoxiously.

Yet here I am, and I’m not finding it so bad or even as nerve-wracking as I anticipated earlier tonight.

“I really want you to meet Louis,” Harry says quietly, all but ignoring his friends now that we have all the introductions out of the way. From our private section we have nearly a three sixty degree vantage of the entire Solar and Harry scans it in search of his friend, Louis. His name has been brought up in conversation before, though only in stories where he and Harry have gotten into a mess together. “I reckon he’s around here somewhere.”

I nod, a little hesitant at the prospect of meeting someone who I know beforehand is so close to Harry, but I try not to let it show through. “I’m sure he’s here.”

“Here, Eleanor is his girlfriend,” Harry clarifies, pointing to the dark haired beauty seated by herself across from us. Next to her are Zayn and then his fiancé, Perrie, all of whom are also English. I supply her a timid quirk of my lips and a slight wave because she notices Harry’s unabashed singling her out. All in all, his friends seem open and easy to get along with—totally nonthreatening… I don’t quite know why I thought they would be, but it might have something to do with Harry’s natural intimidating nature, so therefore he should have equally scary friends.

I’m glad he doesn’t.

Looking around, I think the exact opposite might be true. Harry doesn’t get to see these friends of his often, I have the feeling, and I wonder who he hangs out with when this little group is back in England. Way back at The Uptown, he mentioned his ‘friends’ only liked him because of his money and ability to throw a raging party.

This is not what tonight seems to be about; it feels more like a quiet get together than anything. These friends of Harry obviously are not the ones he brought up before, and for that I breathe a sigh of relief at knowing he has people with good intentions in his life.

Zayn is a little on the quiet side and has this dark look about him when it comes to his intense deep brown eyes; which don’t miss anything, the light beard he sports, and how he doesn’t really seem to care if he is here or not. To put it simply, I wouldn’t want to approach him on the street. The way Perrie clings onto him, though, and every now and again he’ll lean down to whisper something in her ear which makes her blush and giggle, leads me to believe he might be much softer under his rough exterior.

I should know. Harry is similar, or at least to me andaround other people. I know straight away that Perrie and Zayn must have a good relationship. Especially to be engaged.

When Harry leans close to me, giving my thigh a playful squeeze, I find myself flushing much like Perrie has throughout the past half an hour. Eyes glazed, I wait for him to speak. “Would you like a drink?”

Shaking my head gently, I decline the offer. Though comfortable for the most part, I still feel a little shy around so many people I hardly know, and Harry smiles in response before he nuzzles playfully into the crook of my beck. “Good,” he says, purposely brushing his lips against the sensitive skin of my neck as he speaks. “Because I don’t want to get up.”

It isn’t that I don’t want to drink for the same reasons as the last time here at The Castle. There is no possibility of alcohol interacting with my medication, my heart could handle it. Like a lot of things back then, I simply wouldn’t allow myself. Tonight, though, it would be optimal to stay sober so as not to make a total fool of myself and ruin my hopefully good first impression with Harry’s friends. If the single beer I had at the game is any indication to how I react to alcohol—easy, and in an overly friendly way which I fear might be annoying to others—I need to steer clear of alcoholic beverages at least for tonight.

For a while… perhaps fifteen minutes or so, our little group remains like this, and slowly I begin to relax back into Harry, losing the tension which was starting to cause an ache up my spine as I allow my weight to lean into his strong form. Since it is quieter here, more relaxed, it’s easy to talk to Perrie and Eleanor, getting to know each other as we can little by little through casual conversation. I learn Eleanor has made a name for herself in the fashion industry as both a model and designer, and Zayn and Perrie are partners in photography and do a lot of fashion photo shoots for her and her label. Which, I might have been able to reasonably guess given the girls’ beautiful dresses and Zayn looks like the artsy type—in several mediums, as Perrie proudly stated. Together they travel a lot for their work, and I can see easily how happy the three are.

Nick is a purportedly popular radio DJ in London, and he is very proud of the fact. Harry certainly has friends in high places. They all seem interesting and almost as eccentric as he is himself. Given my pessimistic attitude, I earlier figured I might not like his friends on the assumption they all liked to take advantage of him. This is turning out to be a wonderful surprise—I could see myself being friends with these people, too, at least if Harry is okay with that. Which is a feat in itself, given my shyness it can sometimes be hard for me to click with others.

Especially so fast. Over the years Vivian has been the only friend I have managed to hold onto, and even then several times Vivian all but forced herself into my life when I tried to push her away. I find that somehow, with Harry at my side, it is much easier to let myself go and enjoy others’ company.

This event, as I suspected, must be much larger for Harry than he made it out to be, friends having travelled halfway across the world to celebrate in his success.

Finally Vivian thinks to text me back, several times over the course of five minutes with a few rushed spelling mistakes, letting me know she just arrived downstairs and that she wants to get a drink at the bar before coming up to the Solar… even though she left earlier than Harry and I did. Regardless, I decide not to dwell on what made her over an hour late to the event—I can’t, anyway, because a familiar musical voice calls out both mine and Harry’s name through a thick veil of excitement. Grinning already, I sit up in Harry’s lap, oblivious to his sharp intake of air as I do so, and greet the newcomer with equal enthusiasm.

“Lou,” I call back giddily, eager to see another familiar face. Several of Harry’s friends look at me in pleasant surprise, this being the first time I’ve spoken above a quiet murmur or come out of my shell at all. Harry stands up with me to greet both Lou and Tom, watching her and I hug with quiet amusement.

“I missed you. We need to hang out soon,” Lou gripes, and I laugh as I pull away with a hearty nod. Since I technically finished the project, Lou and I have started texting and are well on our way to becoming good friends.

“We will,” I promise, meaning every bit of it. I really do like Lou. Out of the corner of my eye I am quick to notice Harry’s expression quirk even farther in surprise at our exchange, perhaps having believed I mightn’t have talked to Lou since the project was put to rest.

Placated, she nods in agreement. “I want you to see what I’ve been doing with the salon, too, before it opens in September.”

I agree easily because I have wanted to do just that, to see what kind of magic Lou has worked on the old building in Midtown. From what Harry has said every now and then about the place it was in need of a full renovation, and one can only imagine the lengths Lou went to get things perfect and just how she wants them.

At her side, Tom is dressed just as sharply with Lou—in fact, his black and white striped dress shirt compliments the details of Lou’s dress, and I smile at the suspicion of her picking out the shirt for her significant other so they coordinate. With how detail-oriented I know her to be, I wouldn’t put it past her. I watch Harry greet them, just two more of his friends, and I find I’m a little with comfortable now with tonight as a whole.

If things keep going this way and so well, maybe by the end of the night when things wind down I will grow the confidence I’ll need to tell Harry. It won’t ruin his night, I reassure myself, but just in case I won’t even think of dropping the bombshell until the celebration is over. Maybe when we’re at home, but if an opportunity arises before then I want to seize it. It might come as a huge shock to him, but hopefully he won’t grow angry for me keeping something so huge from him for so long… and he won’t leave.

All I manage is a smile and a nod to Tom before I hear my name being shouted once more from behind us, this one also all too familiar.

“What took you so long?” I demand jokingly as I turn around to face my late friend.

“I… got caught up.” Vivian’s answering smile is suspicious at best, and deviant as hell. Her vision travels behind my shoulder to across the room to follow something, a hungry look in her eyes. I automatically swivel in that direction to see what has caught her attention and instantly spot the one and only Trent Harlan, not only wearing a similarly satisfied smirk but also making eyes at Vivian too. Stifling a gasp, I already know full well who she was caught up in and look to her as she coolly sips at her drink in disbelief… though I should have known. She has been drooling over Harlan from afar for years now, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that she has finally made a move.

Thick fingers tangle through mine and my attention is immediately snapped back to Harry. He noticed the exchange between Vivian and Trent, too, and I think he might find more amusement out of my own reaction than anything else. I swallow my own disbelieving laugh and choose to forget the situation.

“This is Vivian,” I say to Lou and Tom, loud enough for the rest of the group to hear, and she has absolutely no shame. I sort of envy her for it. I only wish I was half as confident—in all probability, I wouldn’t have nearly as many problems as I do right now.

As if on cue, my arm throbs with a lingering twinge of pain, and I don’t allow myself to acknowledge it as Vivian easily takes over the task of introducing herself as she sits at a vacant seat, stirring her drink and casually chatting to Nick, as friendly as ever.

Loud laughter draws my focus back to Harry once again, and I witness him embrace a man a little shorter than himself. “About time you showed up,” Harry says, it looks like tonight we both have tardy friends.

“Julia, Louis. Louis, Julia.” He gestures toward me when they part, and Louis’ attention is already on me, his bright blue eyes seemingly studying me closely as he shakes my hand with a beaming smile.

“Wonderful to finally meet you,” Louis says, glancing between Harry and I and surely noticing how he secures his arm around my waist as soon as I step back. “Harry here goes on about you all the time. Maybe he’ll finally give it a rest now that I’ve finally met your acquaintance.”

“He does, does he?” It’s funny—the instant you meet Louis, he makes you feel like you have known him for years. I find I like him quite a bit, and it isn’t only because I suspect his opinion means a lot to Harry. With his friendly demeanour and upbeat personality, it would prove hard to dislike him in any way.

“Yes, yes, not important.” Harry waves off Louis’ playful ribbing, but under The Castle’s dim lighting I almost swear I spot a light pink tinge to his cheeks.

Louis lets loose another loud laugh, but concedes. “What’s your last name again, love? That might be the only thing Harry hasn’t told me.”

It seems Harry and I also both have friends intent on embarrassing us by letting slip how cheesily love-struck we have been acting even in the company of others. To know Harry feels the same way about me is both comforting and undeniably adorable.

“Townsend,” I answer while Harry guides me back to sit again, smiling knowingly at him. Obviously, he doesn’t want to party so much as he wants to simply relax. With as much as he works, who can really blame him? As long as he isn’t only making the decision due to my being here. After all, his partying reputation might be one of the first things I learned about him. Even if it isn’t my thing, I don’t want him to hold back on my account.

Louis frowns after I speak, however, and the abrupt change draws my attention away from any possible issues I might have with Harry.

“Townsend…” he trails off in seemingly deep thought, lips pursed while he stares unabashedly at me, as if trying to place where he might have seen me before. I’m hardly aware when Harry pulls me down to sit on his lap again, too caught up in Louis’ abrupt shift in mood. Seconds ago he was loud, near shouting greetings to everyone, and now he has halted all of it and it appears to be because of me. I unwittingly tense, waiting for something funny—like he has an old friend with the same last name, or something easy. Instead, he leaves off with an ominously vague conclusion. “That sounds familiar.”

“Louis knows everybody in Chicago,” Harry explains easily, and his fingers begin a mesmerizing trail up my arm until they settle into absentmindedly playing with the ends of my curled hair. Goose bumps rise on my arm where his touch simmers against my slightly cooler skin, and he looks totally enamoured in the repetitive movement and my natural, all too visible reaction. “He’s my eyes and ears.”

My focus for once is stolen from Harry, however, when Louis doesn’t reply, his furrowed brows and narrowed eyes remaining in place until they cause me to grow nervous all over again. He stares at nothing in particular while he apparently tries to figure out who I am, sipping at a beer with a foreign label. “I don’t recall ever having met you,” I phrase as politely as I can, sure of at least that much.

“No, I don’t think we have,” he agrees after another moment of tense hesitation—tense for me, though I almost sense he wanted to tack on a ‘but’ to the end of his sentence.

“You just look familiar,” he ultimately decides. All I can do is smile and watch him take another long sip from his beer, still not as jovial as he was just moments ago.

Underneath me, Harry shifts to pull me closer, his arm looping around my waist as he bends his head to rumble in my ear. I take comfort in the fact that he is simply here, with me. Although my brief, strange interaction with Louis still plays on my mind, I try to focus on the here and now and not overthink. “Now, see. Not so bad, is it?”

Harry’s playful remark does a surprising amount of good in helping me to forget about my worries. I shake my head in response, smiling shyly. No—I refuse to dwell on the odd moment with Louis, even though he has gone noticeably quiet since.

“All that worrying for nothing.” He brings his free hand to cup my jaw and tilt my head to the side so he can leave a lingering kiss to the corner of my mouth. It might be just a small display of affection, but the heat of my blush quickly comes about once more. I think back to all the precarious moments which have occurred already tonight and without Harry, it is safe to say I wouldn’t have been able to handle any of them.

“Thank you, for being so supportive,” I murmur just as quietly. Out of the corner of my eye I catch Louis observe our exchange thoughtfully. His attention unnerves me, though only because I’m not sure if it’s good or bad and it might be leaning toward the latter. I don’t think I could have done anything wrong in the few short moments we conversed, could I?

As I might have predicted, Harry waves off my offered praise even though he truly does deserve every last bit of it. For putting up with all of my crap throughout the past months and tonight especially, the man deserves a medal. He needs to know exactly how much I appreciate every single word of encouragement and comfort he has offered, all the moments where I would have crumbled if it weren’t for his steady support. I want him to know how much I adore him for it, but I don’t know how to express my gratitude in a similarly public way. Especially with Louis’ close attention still on us, watching our subtle, intimate exchange. Too nervous to do anything else, I gently caress his jaw while still angled toward him and lean to kiss the slight stubble of his cheek, clearly timid and out of my element.

It seems to be enough, however, because the corners of Harry’s eyes crinkle as he lapses into another one of his cheeky grins. Then, right as I allow my hand to fall back into my lap, I hear a chorus of awe’s followed by a high pitched giggling which only occurs when a certain blonde is on her third drink. Already embarrassed, I swivel back around on Harry’s lap to find Vivian sitting next to Eleanor and Perrie, and the three look at us as if we’ve both just committed the cutest act of affection on earth.

“That was adorable!” Eleanor exclaims, though her voice is nearly as soft and easily misplaced as mine. Vivian nods along with Perrie, too, and I recognize Perrie’s voice as the one who so buoyantly awe’d. My lips twitch in a hesitant, flustered smile. No, I really am not great with public displays of affection—or at least the attention that comes with them. A squeeze to my thigh instantly brings me back to reality and does a little good in cooling me off, and I snap my eyes back to Harry, seeking support under the pressure.

“I…” Harry seems as if he either doesn’t quite know what to say, or he stops himself from whatever he was about to let slip. I love the sight of his pinkened cheeks and the lively twinkle in his eye while he observes me, shaking his head in quiet wonder. “I—you’re perfect.”

Such a compliment voiced so randomly and with admiration, like he really believes it, is what I need most right now. The reassurance that I’m doing okay, with all this, even though I feel way in over my head.

“I’m pretty sure you’re describing yourself,” I murmur back bashfully, wanting nothing more than to bury my face in his chest and ignore everyone watching us closely. Including Louis, who still has not made any more of an attempt to converse with me other than at the beginning of the night.

“No, no. If there’s one person in this relationship who’s perfect, it is definitely you,” he argues, voice gaining in power with confidence, and everyone near us officially is able to listen in on our flirtatious little banter. Shaking my head in dismay, I resist the urge to hide my face again and bite my lip out of bashfulness.

“It’s true,” he sings quietly into my ear, which makes me fall into a soft spell of giggles.

It is almost as if Harry’s friends have never seen him like this before, with a girl, and I realize with a shock that they might not have. Sure, like he has truthfully told me before, he’s had casual dates here and there and loads of partying with the female gender, but never a steady girlfriend. As for myself shock from Vivian is to be expected, and when I chance a glance her way across from us she offers a wide, pleased grin and holds her glass up to me before taking a sip. She’s proud, I come to understand, because this is the first time she’s ever witnessed me venture out of my shell. Ever.

So this is a first for the both of us tonight; I take comfort in Harry’s equalled vulnerability and his strength to get through it with his usual endearing smirk and playful attitude. Right here, on his lap and surrounding by friends, not once does my mind stray to Alex or his confusing, sinister warning. He doesn’t know Harry or what I have with him, how much of a wonder it truly is. I decide he has more than proven it is safe to place my trust in him, and consequently I come to the decision to go through with my half-baked plan as soon as the opportunity presents itself. I’m as ready as I will ever be, and there’s no reason not to… I’m going to do this.

Things slow down a little as all the introductions are now out of the way, and for a moment I think I might be almost out of the clear when it comes to Harry’s friends and their approval. Vivian seems to be perfectly content with chatting everyone up and occasionally leaving with Perrie and Eleanor to get drinks, just to move around. As usual she is the social butterfly I have come to know, and I’m totally content with just doing exactly this all night—enjoying Harry’s company among friends. He seems to capture everyone’s attention without even trying, the centre of attention… as he should be, seeing as this is all for him.

I end up immersed in all the conversation around me, mainly listening, but I do join in every now and again and laugh along to the scattered joke Nick cracks. I feel the rumble within Harry’s chest whenever he speaks against my upper back, too, and I take comfort in an almost tranquilizing way from just being so close, able to feel him.

For a long while my mind… the anxious, nerve-ridden part of it anyway, settles down. I don’t even pay much mind to what I could have done wrong with Louis, or if his opinion of me will stick past tonight, if it even matters. This lasts a good while, though eventually I can’t help but to notice again Louis isn’t quite as cheerful and outgoing as he was when we first met.

Hardly conscious of what I’m doing, I begin to dwell on what could have possibly changed in him so suddenly, and right when it so obviously happened. With me. Every now and then I catch a glimpse of Louis frowning; seemingly deep in thought, as he watches Harry and I interact, sipping at his second or third beer.

Harry’s fingers curl around mine after I comprehend I have been absentmindedly playing with each of his own and the few rings which adorn them while wearing a new frown of my own, silent. “You alright, baby?” he asks, predictably having noticed my subtle shift in mood and how quiet I have gone.

In our embrace and caught up in each other, we are oblivious to everyone else around us for this moment. He brings up my hand to his chest and kisses each of my fingertips softly, spearing me with a gentle, concerned look.

“I’m fine.” I try to mask my worry with a cheerful tone, but while the sensations he stirs from his lips in contact with my skin are at the forefront of my mind, I also think about Louis and the sneaking suspicion that he might not like me quite as much as Harry’s other friends seem to.

Then it comes to me in a sudden flash of remembrance which I didn’t manage to catch in my nervous, flustered state when we first met. A moment I barely took note of as it happened, though now it makes sense… in my mind, at least. Right about when he shook my hand and made casual small talk—when he asked me what my last name is. That is the very second a frown doused the friendly smile he previously wore and the light of his blue eyes, similar to my own, darkened slightly. Almost as if in suspicion.

But why? I am positive I’ve never laid eyes on this man before tonight, not even in passing. If he is on Vivian’s radar, she has never mentioned him once—so it would have to be impossible for Louis to have something against me when I’ve obviously done nothing wrong. Right.

Harry doesn’t believe my lie, either, at least that much is abundantly clear with the way he holds eye contact for several long moments, searching for something again, which I’m not sure he finds. Reluctantly, he lets it go for now with a slight nod, though I know he has filed this small incident within the depth of his mind to be brought up later.

Harry did not seem at all fazed by his friend’s probing… so perhaps there isn’t cause for worry, but still. It sticks with me, and I remain discreetly attuned to Louis’ actions until Vivian stands along with Perrie and Eleanor.

“We’re going dancing downstairs,” Vivian informs, excited and also a little wobbly. Through my newfound worry I have to smile at her—so much for being able to drive home tonight. It looks like Harry and I might have our hands full getting her back to her place.

A gentle, prodding squeeze comes to my hand and when I hesitantly glance back to Harry, he raises his eyebrows and nods toward the girls. Suddenly he appears as mischievous as he was at the start of the night, and I hope he’s forgotten about my lapse in good mood. “How about we join them?”

“Oh… um.” I freeze at his innocent suggestion, mind instantly travelling to our night at the Uptown and Harry quite literally forcing me to dance along with him to Sinatra. Dancing here in a night club with hundreds of other writhing bodies around us, I’m certain, is a totally different experience and one I don’t know if I am ready for. Though turned away, Harry studies my reaction closely. He knows my answer without me having to voice it aloud. Unfortunately, in this case.

“Yes,” Vivian agrees loudly, laughing because she knows how much I don’t like to dance—at least how much I didn’t, before Harry. “How about you join us?”

Just as I try to force a pressured agreement and expel the last of the air I hold in my lungs, Vivian appearing all too pleased with the spotlight she has shed on me, Louis stands up while he glances down to his phone and frowns once more.

“Sorry I can’t stay any longer, mate, but there’s trouble at the garage. Catch up with you tomorrow?” While I wonder what kind of trouble could possibly take place at a garage this time of night, Harry nods like this is a normal occurrence for Louis. He calls an unperturbed goodbye while still sitting down, in no hurry to move me from his lap. After a few moments and more goodbyes to everyone else, Louis leaves. He smiles at me before he does, but once again it doesn’t reach his eyes. Miraculously, I manage a small one in return though I can only look at him momentarily before courage totally escapes me and my eyes focus on my wrung together hands, situated on my lap.

When Harry exhales a long breath, having noticed yet another odd moment between his friend and myself, he shakes his head. I want to curse myself for my transparency, because Harry sees right through every single thing I do. Including this.

“Actually, girls,” he says, the three having stuck around to see Louis off before they go downstairs themselves. He eyes me though, and like with Louis, I don’t have the nerve to look back at him. “I think I will show Julia my newest project instead.”

Then we are left alone, everyone else having decided to join the girls downstairs to really enjoy what the club has to offer, and as we stand up ourselves I’m left to wonder what possibly Harry could have to show me. I have the sneaking suspicion he didn’t simply decline their offer because he sensed I was uncomfortable with the idea, but something more and that, perhaps, makes me even more nervous.

Notes

Hey, here's another incredibly long chapter to hopefully make up for the fact that I updated a day or so later than what I normally do :) Microsoft Word did a thing and deleted a chunk of this chapter, and so it unfortunately caused a slight delay.

Anyhow, thanks everyone for your answers to my question! The vote is unanimous, and so I do plan to include it. Now, the scene isn't going to take place for a while yet... at least six chapters... and you know how much can happen in that amount of time. I just wanted to get everyone's opinion well beforehand so my writing doesn't stall and I can continue to update regularly!

So, thoughts? Let me tell you, this was a little difficult to write because a lot is going on, and there is still a lot yet to happen. I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter—you tell me! I have the next nearly completed, and I think you guys will like it :) Lots and lots more Harry and Jules moments. Who knows... maybe a few comments will inspire me to post it sooner than usual... ? Haha!