Isabelle's P.O.V

“Why are you so good to me?” I wondered aloud as Harry tied a blindfold over my eyes. I stepped out of the car, holding his hand to guide me. He chuckled when I stumbled. I sniffed the air, and immediately knew that we were outside.

The wind was blowing in my face and it smelled like pine. My feet crunched on the ground as I took a few wobbly steps, not used to being without my sight or walking in heels. Shortly before we’d left the house, he’d made me dress up in something nice. So here I was in bright blue pumps and a black dress, my fur-lined coat draped over my shoulders. My legs were still freezing though.

Harry was behind me, his hands on my waist, pushing me forward gently. He chuckled in my ear when I stumbled again. I turned around and felt around his body, eventually resting my hands on what I assumed were his shoulders. I leaned in until I felt his erratic breathing on my face and immediately knew that our lips were only millimeters apart.

“Thank you for what you said at the interview,” I whispered. I could almost hear the smile in his voice, “You’re welcome.”

I momentarily flashed back to the interview.


“So boys,” the interviewer, a pretty blonde girl with blue eyes asked. The boys were sitting in a row on stools, and she sat a little farther off from them so that people would be able to distinguish her, “What is the ideal girl? Niall, you’re up first.”

“There is no such thing as an ideal girl,” Niall said simply, and the whole crowd awed. Louis awed along with them playfully and nudged Niall, pretending to nestle his head into his cheek. I stifled a laugh as I watched from the side.

“That’s sweet,” the woman said. I think her name was Skylar. Yeah, definitely Skylar. She turned to Louis, who was up next in the small line that the boys had formed. “How about you Lou?”

“I like girls—who like—carrots,” Louis’ eyes glazed over and he spoke in a monotone voice. Harry burst out laughing, and just hearing his laugh made me laugh along as well. Lou Teasdale nudged my shoulder, and I gazed over at her. She quirked one of her eyebrows in a silent question, but I just chuckled and shrugged it away.

“Zayn?” Skylar asked in between giggles.

Zayn shook his head, “A gentleman never tells.”

He then pretended to zip his lips up and hand Louis the key. Louis opened his mouth widely and plopped the imaginary key into his mouth, making a funny face as he pretended to chew and swallow.

“Ooh, quiet and mysterious, as always,” Skylar smiled genuinely, “What about you Liam?”

Liam shrugged, looking genuinely confused, “I’ve never really thought about it I guess. I suppose I like girls with light eyes,” he smiled, “Yeah, I like blue eyes.”

Louis and Niall both shrieked and stood up, waving their arms around frantically and pretending to be crazed fans, “We have blue eyes, we have blue eyes!” they chanted, and the crowd roared with laughter.

I stifled a giggled by pressing my fingertips to my mouth, crossing my arms and gazing lovingly at the silver bracelet, still not believing that it was mine.

It took a few seconds for Skylar to stop chuckling, but finally she did, and she stared seriously at Harry, “And Harry…I think everybody wants to know your answer. Am I right guys?” she looked out at the crowd, and since it was mostly made up of girls, they screamed appreciatively.

Harry shrugged simply, and at that moment, he looked so handsome and it took everything I had to stay rooted to the spot and not run out there and kiss him.

“I agree with Niall,” He said simply, “There is no such thing as an ideal girl in general. But everyone has their own ideal girl,” he smiled as he went on, “Erm, mine is extremely stubborn, and hard-headed. She’s infuriating at times, and there are those moments where I feel like yelling at her and kissing her at the exact same time. I’ve already erm, dropped the L-bomb on her, because it’s the truth. So I would say that my ideal girl is the girl I am so idiotically and madly in love with, Isabelle Foster.”

I went deaf from the screaming that echoed in the building from the thousands of girls that had come out to see this interview. Harry looked over at me for a moment and smiled boyishly, a wide smile that a little child might wear as if Christmas had come early.

I didn’t smile back. The most I could do was hold my hands up to my face, my mouth propped into a little ‘o’, while tears threatened to spill over my waterline.


“I love you,” I sighed, the whole scenario flashing through my mind in approximately a nanosecond. I let my fingers trail up to his neck blindly, where I gripped the nape of it, and I guided his face to meet mine. I ended up kissing his nose and I giggled.

“There are no paps?” I asked once we’d pulled back.

“Nope, I managed to lose them,” he sounded proud, and for the millionth time, I wondered where exactly he was planning on taking me. The sky was dark, it being the middle of January, and I guess that it was about eight o’clock in the evening. What was he planning?

“Almost there,” he breathed in my ear, his hot breath sending chills down my spine. He pushed my elegantly curled hair to the side and peppered kisses along my neck while I stumbled yet again in these blue pumps.

He wore a black button up top and black skinny jeans, matched with black ankle boots. He’d styles his hair so that it stuck up, and I desperately wanted to run my hands through it, but we were both a bit preoccupied at the moment.

Finally, I felt the rough gravelly road thin out, only to be replaced by something that was smoother. However, I couldn’t distinguish this material, so I was left in the dark—literally.

Eventually, we stopped. I could hear whooshing sounds, and I guessed it was the wind, but there was something else mixed in. Was that…water?

I bit my lip, nervously fiddling with the ‘H’ charm on the silver bracelet. I’d meant what I said about never taking it off.

Harry chuckled in my ear and then swiftly ripped the blindfold off. “Happy one-month anniversary love.”

My hands immediately flew to my mouth as I took in the scene. We were at that same forest, the one that Harry had brought me to on our first fake-date. Except down, the dock we stood on was decorated with colourful lights, and waiting at the end of the pier was a small white boat.

A fucking yacht.

“They’re going to be doing fireworks soon,” Harry told me, while my mouth flapped open and closed like a fish, “So I thought you’d like to watched them and have dinner here.”

“On the boat?” I whispered, my voice not willing to come out any higher. Harry chuckled again and kissed my neck, “Is there any other way?”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and flung my arms around his neck, bringing my lips to his in a passionate kiss. He was stunned for a moment but then quickly reciprocated, his fingers braiding in my hair. I sighed against his mouth, thinking about how much I loved him. He was so perfect for me, and I had no idea what I had done to deserve him.

“I love you,” I breathed once we pulled back, panting raggedly. He kissed me again, and I marvelled at how he had the ability to make every one of our kisses feel like the cliché first kisses in movies: Explosive, passionate, and downright amazing.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding out his hand. I took it and we approached the yacht together, him smiling nonchalantly and me trying not to get my heel stuck in the many openings of the dock.

A man with a bit of stubble, wearing a prim and proper uniform greeted us, “Good evening Mr. Styles, Ms. Foster. I’m your captain. Dinner is being prepared as we speak. For now, you can go sit atop the boat and wait until I call.”

“Thank you David,” Harry said, smiling genuinely at him. The captain bowed his head respectively and Harry tightened his grip on my hand, pulling me onto the boat and leading me up a flight of stairs. I was careful not to trip over myself and look like a fool, as usual.

Atop the yacht was a small seating area. There was a small glass table and to chairs, but there was also a blanket splayed out on the floor. For some reason, I felt like lying down on the blanket, and apparently, so did Harry.

“Do you like it?” he asked, his brow creasing and chewing on his bottom lip nervously. I laughed and slipped my shoes off, my pantyhose keeping my legs slightly warm. Harry reached for another blanket that was folded up and spread it over us, heating me up. We lay down together and I snuggled up to him, trying to keep as warm as possible. Instead of spooning, like we usually did, I faced him and wrapped my arms around him, and he sighed, putting his chin on the crown of my head.

“I love it,” I breathed into his neck, my eyes fluttering shut, the smell of cinnamon seeming so alluring, “And I love you. You’re so amazing.”

He chuckled and kissed my hair, and it was my turn to sigh. The wind nipped at us, but we had this large, warm fleece blanket to keep us from the cold, and at that moment, there was no other place I’d rather be.

I secured my arms a bit tighter around him, “You know,” I said, clearing my throat awkwardly, “I’ve been thinking—”

“Hold on,” he said suddenly, pulling away. He rolled onto his back, pulling me along with him, so that my head rested on his chest. He was breathing heavily, and I smiled as my head rose and fell along with the rest of his torso.

“Look,” he said, pointing up at the sky. Usually, you wouldn’t be able to see the stars in a large, bright city like London, except we weren’t at the heart of the big bright city. I could see silvery twinkling stars in the sky, and when Harry pointed at three stars that were consecutively lined up, I recognized the constellation.

“Orion’s Belt,” we both said simultaneously, and I giggled, and he smiled.

He sat up, pulling me into his lap, and kissed my cheek, then directing his attention back to the sky, “And over there,” he murmured, ducking to kiss my neck, “Is Ursa Major.” He kissed my jawline, “There’s the Big Dipper.”

Finally, he sucked lightly on a patch of skin on my throat, and I threw my head back, sighing.

“And over there,” he mumbled against my flesh, “Is the Polar Star. Beautiful isn’t it?”

“Very,” I replied breathlessly. I felt him chuckle against my skin, sending vibrations all over my body and waves to my brain, telling it to come out and just say what I’d been waiting to say. “Look, Harry—”

Just then, a gruff voice called from below us, “Mr. Styles? Dinner is ready.”

I mentally groaned as Harry chuckled and collected himself, standing up and offering his hand to me. While I collected my shoes, he peered over the white railing and called back, “We’ll be right down David!”

Then he turned back to me. I opened my mouth to say what I’d wanted to tell him, but then clenched it shut, deciding that I had to wait until it was a good time, and nothing was rushed. Maybe after dinner? Yeah, that was a good idea.

Harry led me down the stairs and towards a small door on the deck of the yacht. “This is the dining room,” he explained gently.

He then cleared his throat awkwardly, and pointed to another door across the deck, “And—erm—over there is the bedroom. We’ll be staying there for the night.”

“I didn’t bring any pajamas,” I admitted, the fact that he’d planned everything out shocking me greatly.

He smiled softly, “They have clothing in there,” he told me, and I grabbed his face in my hands, lurching forward but kissing him tenderly.

“I love you,” I said, pulling back and resting my forehead against his. He grinned at me and fumbled with the knob on the door behind us, eventually swinging the door open. The room was quite small, but it was cozy. The lighting was dim, the walls were painted a maroon-ish colour, and the floor was smooth hardwood.

A table sat in the middle of the room, a satin cloth draped over it. There was a candle in the middle, along with exquisite silver utensils and porcelain plates. Napkins were folded neatly beside the plates, and Harry led me over to the table, pulling out a chair for me. I smiled adoringly at him and sat down, and he pushed me in before crossing to his side and sliding in as well.

I turned to the side and noticed a narrow door leading off into another illuminated room. “The kitchen,” Harry explained to me, as if sensing that I would ask him about it. I nodded; it made sense.

“I still can’t believe you did this for me,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. He chuckled, and then I realised that he’d heard.

“I love you,” he said simply, shrugging, “And I’ll do anything for you,” he paused and the grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, “That sounded a lot less cheesy in my head,” he said, and I giggled at how beautiful he was.

Just then, a few waiters and waitresses came out, serving our meals. Plates filled with baked Alaskan salmon, royal-looking steaks, and heaps of steaming vegetables and mashed potatoes were set in front of me. My mouth dropped into a little ‘o’, not processing how Harry managed to pull all of this off or why he would even consider me being worth it.

Harry mumbled ‘thank-you’s to the servers and they simply smiled, retreating back into the kitchen and giving us some privacy. I turned to him, my jaw hanging, staring at all of the food that had just been served. This was way too over-the-top for me, but I kept my mouth shut, not wanting to cause drama and ruin the most amazing night of my life.

“Dig in,” he said simply, so I did, and we had a pretty great dinner, but the whole time, I distracted. Why would he go through all of this trouble for me? I wasn’t worth it. It probably caused unnecessary amounts of stress to be hefted onto his shoulders.

I’d have to talk to him later.

***

“I love you, you know that?” Harry called out from the washroom, in which he was changing. I smiled as I ruffled through the top drawer of a tall mahogany dresser, looking for nightwear.

“I love you even more,” I called back sweetly, giggling quietly to myself.

Harry opened the washroom door, his expression serious. He walked over to where I was and wrapped his arms around my waist, my back to him, and said, “You will never love me more than I love you. Trust me.”

I rolled my eyes and turned around, momentarily forgetting about my pyjama hunt. I kissed his lips lightly and then bit his bottom lip, stretching it as I pulled away, still locked in between my teeth. Finally, I released it.

“Try me,” I whispered, and then I turned back around, continuing to rifle through the contents of the wooden drawer.

Harry groaned and went to lie on the bed, collapsing on it dramatically, obviously disappointed that I’d turned away, and I giggled, and finally decided to look in the second drawer. I pulled it out and gasped lightly, not loud enough for him to hear me though. Lace. It was all lace. I tried to look for something a little more subtle and humble, but there was nothing. Eventually, I just pursed my lips, balling a set of black lingerie up into my fist and making my way towards the bathroom quickly.

Once inside, I began to strip.

I pulled off my black dress and my blue pumps, shimming the dress down my body. I then shrugged on the lingerie, still feeling extremely self-conscious and nervous. What if Harry thought I was ugly? What if he told me that I was being too forward? I wasn’t trying to be; this was all there was. I imagined the maintenance staff of the yacht right now, probably laughing their heads off.

Finally, I finished washing my makeup off, remaining positive that I’d keep the silver bracelet on, and opened the bathroom door a crack. I peeked out, only to find Harry still in the position I’d left him in, but now I noticed that he only wore sweatpants, and his chest and feet were bare.

“Harry?” I asked timidly, “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” he said, rolling over and burying his face into the plush pillows of the bed. The room was the same colour as the dining room, the lights dim, and the bed was adorned with a chocolaty brown duvet, matching the dresser and nightstand.

“Why did you do all this?” I questioned shyly, stepping out of the bathroom. The lingerie set was made up of a black lacy bra, which had a light satiny curtain sewed along the bottom wire, draping over my stomach, and matching underwear. He groaned and stood up, facing me, and I almost disappeared back into the bathroom, but forced myself to stay rooted to the spot.

His eyes widened when he saw me, “Sweet mother of fucking baby Jesus.”

I blushed and was grateful for the dim lighting of the room. Harry’s gaze raked up and down my body, and I rejected the urge to cross my arms over my body, instead running my fingers through my hair, stressed, “Please answer me.”

“W-what did you ask again?” Harry stuttered, still eyeing me, his jaw hanging. I snapped my fingers in front of his face, trying to snap him out of it, “Harry! I’m serious!”

Finally, he shook his head, his curls bouncing ever-so-lightly, and glared at me. I was shocked at his sudden change of mood, “Why must you always insist on doing this Isabelle?” he snapped.

I stepped back and put my hands on my hips, “Doing what?”

“This!” he wrung his hands in the air and then raked his hair back, looking pained, “Always asking me why I bother doing things for you? Stop being so fucking self-conscious! You’re beautiful and I love you! Why can’t you just accept that and move on?”

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered, feeling ashamed all of a sudden. Harry was right. Why couldn’t I just let things go and stop causing drama? I was never like this before.

He sighed tiredly, “Well, you should! It’s so fucking exhausting, always fighting to show you how amazing you are, and you never being able to see it.”

I stayed silent as he approached me, backing me up against the wall lightly.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine, breathing erratically from his short rant, “I love you,” he breathed, “And you’re perfect. I meant what I said today at the interview. So just…stop with all of that bullshit, okay?”

“Okay,” I whispered, not really knowing what else to say. He closed his eyes for a moment and then smiled, before they flashed open again, and he leaned down and kissed me lightly. I made a throaty sound and wound my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my waist, pulling me to him and pressing our bodies together.

Slowly, the kiss transformed into something heated, passionate and raw. There was no more tenderness, no more softness, just a burning desire for need that could be sensed—even tasted—from miles away. We bit at each other’s lips and fought for dominance, and finally managed to stumble over to the bed, falling on top of the soft duvet.

Harry kissed along my jawline before sucking harshly on my neck, causing me to whimper. We continued to kiss for what seemed like eternity, until he finally pulled away, pecking my nose, “Just go to sleep, okay baby?”

He began to climb off of me, and I felt the window of opportunity closing very quickly. I gripped his biceps to keep him from dismounting. This was the perfect time. It was the perfect time, the perfect, romantic location with the most perfect person imaginable. I wanted this to happen tonight.

“No,” I breathed when he looked at me confusedly. I cleared my throat, “I mean—I want this Harry.”

There was a moment of silence after the words tumbled out of my mouth, and I almost took them back, afraid that he’d reject me.

“That’s not why I said it,” he replied breathlessly, his eyes widening as he slowly realised what I was asking for; “We don’t have to.”

I smiled tenderly at him, touched at how sweet and caring he was being. Slowly my hand came up to run through his hair, making it stick up even more than it already was. I leaned up to brush my lips against his as I spoke, “I’m ready for this.”

He chewed on his lip cutely, “What? I mean…a—are you sure?”

I nodded, feeling so absolutely positive—more than I had ever in my life. This was going to happen tonight.

“I’ve never been surer,” I whispered breathlessly, and I leaned up to kiss his lips softly, “I want this to happen, Harry. I want you to make love to me.”

Notes

Yay, long chapter! So there you have it. The next chapter should be pretty steamy ;)

Here's the link to 'Plunge'. I finally started updating chapters, so please go check that out. I'd really like some subscribers and votes. Thanks, beauties.
http://www.harrystylesfanfiction.com/Story/47786/Plunge/

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