Damaged » h. styles au

Chapter 47 - Harry

                                                                 47.  

                                                           ●•Harry•●

She threw the bouquet into the first trash can she saw before she walked back towards me, putting her jacket on and shrinking, attempting to protect herself from the wind that was maybe starting to get too noticeable. Instead of feeling upset or whatever because of her actions – I’d actually just brought those flowers to tease her; I kind of guessed she wasn’t fond of things like that –, I laughed, pulling her closer by the shoulders and sliding my hand down to her waist once she was close enough to me.

As the expected, she tried to pull away, and I didn’t hold her because I knew she wasn’t completely comfortable this close to me yet. Though I had to try, you know? I mean, if she asked – out loud – for me to kiss her, why shouldn’t I wait for a few more surprises? I could already tell tonight was going to be one of my best nights.

Even though Kirsten got to get rid of my arms, I managed to still hold her hand, and she didn’t object to that. She didn’t look at me, didn’t say a word, didn’t sigh, either. And to be honest, that silence was quite comfortable to me. It didn’t feel awkward; or at least that was how I felt, ‘cause the girl next to me seemed pretty worried, or something like that. Fine, she’s certainly feeling rather ashamed, guilty, confused and maybe something more because, for the first time, she asked me to make a move on her, but it’s not like I’m judging her for it. Why would I? She could just relax.

“Where are you taking me?” she finally asked, hesitant to look into my eyes.

“I was planning something like you and I on my private plane, then going to Paris to have dinner at Eiffel Tower, watching a show of fireworks and maybe taking a walk just to appreciate the city streets. You’d deeply fall in love with me in the city of love; we’d take a few pictures, and then come back to London. Watcha think?” Kirsten rolled her eyes at my sarcasm – I was so used to it already I thought it was adorable – and I couldn’t help but show her the biggest of my smiles. “Or…” I trailed off, watching as she tilted her head to the side, curiously-annoyingly staring at me “…something simpler, like having dinner at the best place ever, and later going somewhere else.”

“May I know where this ‘somewhere else’ is?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow at me, but I just shrugged.

“Now you want too much, miss. Can’t tell you that. It’s a surprise,” were my last words, and, thankfully, she conformed herself with just those. After, we just walked in silence through the grass, Kirsten obviously looking confused as hell, ‘cause, well, that certainly didn’t look like somewhere we could have dinner. At all.

Ends up that I’m a box full of surprises; and, also, quite known around the town. So why not to take advantage of it?

So here’s the thing: I know this woman named Sarah it’s been years. She organizes weddings, big parties and stuff, and people usually choose this one place for their ceremonies ‘cause it’s all bucolic, huge, even light (guess we could say that). Just being there makes you feel better, surrounded by natural air, somewhere that completely seems not to belong such a civilized town.

The only thing near civilization had to be a white tent that was there just because the right next day there was going to be a wedding, and the bride would hide there until the wedding march started playing and she’d have to eventually walk in between all the plastic chairs splattered on the grass, leaving a not-so-big hallway free for which she’d be walking through ‘till the altar.