Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

Right In The One Heart

Ever since Y/N had been introduced on the Late Late Show's special episode, Harry had been obsessed with her, although it was unintentional. He could've sworn his heart had stopped when she sauntered in, wearing the snug team USA jersey, conversing with Michelle Obama lightheartedly, face bright and eager.

"Jesus, Harry. You alright?" James squawked over Harry like a mother hen, checking up on him after having seen the dazed expression on his face. He nodded, although he seemed quite unsure, himself.

Harry had thought of Y/N as a gentle creature, however messed up and questionable that may sound. She looked as if she could never hurt anyone, only laughing prettily every now and then and respectfully nodding along and adding to the conversation alongside the other strong women beside her. He'd heard of Y/N, but with albums and PR... Harry hasn't had much time to notice anyone, willingly. But looking at and thinking about her wasn't a conscious choice you made. She was intoxicating— she pushed past his mental barriers and evaded his every thought, to the point where his long fingers trembled as they clutched the dodgeball, although he was usually very competitive.

Now, as they played the match, he noticed just how fierce she really was— dodging balls left and right, shooting them so no one was left unscathed, and slipping into the back, giggling after she'd elicited a yelp from Harry, after having damaged his area for the second time that day ("right in the One-D"). Y/N smiled innocently at him from under batting eyelashes and mischievous eyes. He couldn't help but smirk back, and then groan because that hurt, and she was a bit of a firecracker, and he liked that.

And then they're the only two left in the game, Team USA and Team UK both screaming encouragement at the both of them. And he's really trying to maintain the national pride he has and do it justice, along with his own smugness, but that's when she smirks and bends down just so the jersey clinges onto her hips a bit snugger, and her legs seem to go on for days...

"Harry, mate, what are you doing?!"

She raises her arm, a grin that already declares and promises victory.

"Harry, you blithering idiot! Get your head in the game—"

Smack.

"Ah, fuck!"

He hears himself and others swearing as the small ball makes hard impact on his chest, and Y/N just laughs, flinging an array of other ones at him as Harry flies back, his balance nonexistent.

Foul, foul, he hears members on his team (who do not understand the gym class sport) yell, their national pride wounded. All he can focus on, however, is her light, amused laugh, and the way she smells incredibly nice as she raises an eyebrow and offers him a hand. He takes it.

"Aren't you gonna say we didn't play fair? That you let us win," she teased, as soon as he was up and had his eyes intently trained on her, to the point where she felt her cheeks warm.

"No," he shook his head. "That was all you. You had me beat, since the very beginning."