Delicate

Chapter 15

HARRY STYLES

For the last two days, I've been pacing my hotel room, resting my voice, sleeping, and my meals have all been delivered by an anonymous cart to my door because I couldn't be bothered with all it takes for me to go out to eat somewhere. I've felt like a prisoner...albeit one with extreme privilege staying in a five-star hotel.

And as someone who's been spending most of his life traveling, I do very well understand the concept of "absence makes the heart grow fonder", but I learned something else while Haven was away. Part of me was unsure if I actually liked her, or if I liked a gorgeous girl who was around and seemed to be flirting back with me. But since she's been with her mum, I've found myself thinking about her constantly.

I miss her sarcasm and the way she rolls her eyes, and I miss the sound of her voice and when she laughs so hard that she squeezes her eyes closed and drops her head back. She's so pretty when she smiles and when she doesn't, and I feel so anxious to see her that I'm wandering around the venue like a fucking moron, waiting for her to walk through one of the many doors so that I can meet not just her, but her mother as well. Apparently, she wants to see what I'm all about.

Impatiently so, I'm about to text her and ask if she's almost here when I hear that infectious laugh outside my dressing room door. Her knuckles tap on the wood three times and I can't stand up fast enough to cross the room and open it up for her, almost tripping over my feet.

Standing by her side is a beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair cut in soft layers just past her shoulders and she looks like Haven without looking anything like her at all. The one thing they certainly have in common is that their beauty is completely natural and effortless.

"Hi," Haven laughs while her mum looks at me like a mum would look at a boy her daughter has spoken to her about. I've seen that face before.

"Hi," I open the door wider for both of them to come in. "You must be Miss. Taylor."

"And you must be Mr. Styles," she speaks with a thick but soft southern accent that Haven told me about already.

"I am," I chuckle somewhat nervously and let the door close on its own. "Just Harry is good, though."

"Well, I'm Margaret," she accepts my hand as I lean in to cordially kiss her cheek and I don't fail to miss the little smile she shoots to Haven as if she's impressed.

"I've heard a lot of nice things about you," I gesture to her, keeping my other hand in the pocket of my shorts.

"Oh, so have I," she smiles more directly at Haven that time, who is now blushing and pressing her lips together in a tight line. "I've also heard your music and Haven has converted me into a fan."

"That's great, thank you," I laugh. "I'm also really appreciative that you came all this way. I know it's about a four-hour trip from Savannah."

"Well, I was just happy to spend more time with my little sweet pea," she squeezes Haven's arm. "My little sugar pie–"

"Okay, Mom," Haven scratches her forehead with a forced laugh. "I have to help get Harry ready for the show now, but you're welcome to wander anywhere with that all-access pass and I'll be out there in two minutes."

"Alright, I can take a hint," she winks at me. "Good luck tonight, Harry."

"Thank you," I lift my hand to wave as she leaves us in the room alone, securing the door shut behind her.

"Oh my God, I am so–"

Involuntarily, or so it seems, I step forward to fit my lips between hers and gently press my fingers into the back of her neck until she touches my waist over my sweatshirt and bunches the fabric in her fist. Her full lips purse against mine for just a second before she starts to smile, forcing me to do the same.