I Thought You'd Care
Chapter 5: Stylin'
Chapter 5: Stylin’
Harry’s POV
“What’s your last name?” Nell asked as we drove along.
“Styles,” I replied. “Why?”
“I’m going to look up your name.”
I winced, but tried to hide it. The media said some awful things about me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer she would like me if she saw everything that was said about me. A few minutes passed in silence while I was filled with a cold dread, knowing that she wouldn’t want to have much to do with me after learning about some of my past foolish exploits.
After a while she looked over at me and noticed my sadness. “Are you okay?” She asked.
“Yeah. Fine. It’s just…I hate the way they portray me, you know? I’m not like that. I don’t just sleep around all the time.” I noticed I was starting to tear up a little and I wiped it away. “I hate what people think about me.”
“The way I see it, there’s your opinion of yourself, there’s the media’s opinion of you, and then there’s my opinion of you. Yours is that you’re just Harry, right? Just plain old Harry, who recognizes that he’s rich and famous, but he doesn’t really care that much. Then there’s the media, who says that you’re some talented and attractive loser who has his way with every girl that he meets.”
“And what’s your opinion?” She was spot on about the other two, but I didn’t really give two shits about those images of me. I wanted her thoughts.
“I think…” She paused for a moment, which seemed to drag on for ages. “I think you haven’t had your way with me yet.” And she left it at that. I wanted to ask more, but I knew I shouldn’t. What she had said was good enough, and I understood what she had meant: she was rejecting the media’s view. Which meant a lot to me.
“I like you,” I said. I motioned for my phone, which was in the cupholder. “Here, could you put your number in? The password is 1745.” She probably didn’t realize that my trusting her with my phone—possessing of far too much incriminating stuff about me and the boys—was a huge deal.
She picked it up and put in the passcode. Nell typed in her number and set it down. We were almost back into London, and it should only be about ten minutes or so until we were at the flat.
The rest of the drive went in silence. I parked in a parking garage at the back of the building, so no paps would take pictures of us, and walked inside. Just as I was about to open the door that led into the apartment building, I heard her behind me. “Hey, hotshot, what about that kiss?”
I turned around and grinned cheekily, walking the few steps over to her. I put a hand on her waist. “What kiss?”
“Oh, did you forget?” She smiled slyly up at me.
“Maybe I was saving it for later.”
“Too bad, because I want it now.” And she leaned in. This one was longer, because it wasn’t interrupted by my cell phone, and just as good as before. I pulled away and slowly opened my eyes, noticing her doing the same. “Harry, you have officially changed my mind. I mean it. I didn’t know kissing could actually be nice.”
I smiled. “Look, you’re probably not going to believe me, because of my reputation and all, but that seriously was the best kiss I’ve ever had. I’m not lying. And it’s not just because you’re an amazing kisser—though you are—it’s that I actually genuinely like you and I know you’re not just kissing me because I’m Harry Styles.”
“Well, I actually like you, too, hotshot.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “Can we go now?”
Harry’s POV
“What’s your last name?” Nell asked as we drove along.
“Styles,” I replied. “Why?”
“I’m going to look up your name.”
I winced, but tried to hide it. The media said some awful things about me, and I wasn’t sure how much longer she would like me if she saw everything that was said about me. A few minutes passed in silence while I was filled with a cold dread, knowing that she wouldn’t want to have much to do with me after learning about some of my past foolish exploits.
After a while she looked over at me and noticed my sadness. “Are you okay?” She asked.
“Yeah. Fine. It’s just…I hate the way they portray me, you know? I’m not like that. I don’t just sleep around all the time.” I noticed I was starting to tear up a little and I wiped it away. “I hate what people think about me.”
“The way I see it, there’s your opinion of yourself, there’s the media’s opinion of you, and then there’s my opinion of you. Yours is that you’re just Harry, right? Just plain old Harry, who recognizes that he’s rich and famous, but he doesn’t really care that much. Then there’s the media, who says that you’re some talented and attractive loser who has his way with every girl that he meets.”
“And what’s your opinion?” She was spot on about the other two, but I didn’t really give two shits about those images of me. I wanted her thoughts.
“I think…” She paused for a moment, which seemed to drag on for ages. “I think you haven’t had your way with me yet.” And she left it at that. I wanted to ask more, but I knew I shouldn’t. What she had said was good enough, and I understood what she had meant: she was rejecting the media’s view. Which meant a lot to me.
“I like you,” I said. I motioned for my phone, which was in the cupholder. “Here, could you put your number in? The password is 1745.” She probably didn’t realize that my trusting her with my phone—possessing of far too much incriminating stuff about me and the boys—was a huge deal.
She picked it up and put in the passcode. Nell typed in her number and set it down. We were almost back into London, and it should only be about ten minutes or so until we were at the flat.
The rest of the drive went in silence. I parked in a parking garage at the back of the building, so no paps would take pictures of us, and walked inside. Just as I was about to open the door that led into the apartment building, I heard her behind me. “Hey, hotshot, what about that kiss?”
I turned around and grinned cheekily, walking the few steps over to her. I put a hand on her waist. “What kiss?”
“Oh, did you forget?” She smiled slyly up at me.
“Maybe I was saving it for later.”
“Too bad, because I want it now.” And she leaned in. This one was longer, because it wasn’t interrupted by my cell phone, and just as good as before. I pulled away and slowly opened my eyes, noticing her doing the same. “Harry, you have officially changed my mind. I mean it. I didn’t know kissing could actually be nice.”
I smiled. “Look, you’re probably not going to believe me, because of my reputation and all, but that seriously was the best kiss I’ve ever had. I’m not lying. And it’s not just because you’re an amazing kisser—though you are—it’s that I actually genuinely like you and I know you’re not just kissing me because I’m Harry Styles.”
“Well, I actually like you, too, hotshot.”
“Good,” I said, smiling. “Can we go now?”
8/19/13