Prince in the City [Harry Styles AU]

Chapter 8

This chapter was about 15 pages on Microsoft Word, damn. Hope y'all enjoy!

_________________________________________________

Chapter 8

City Girl's POV:

I was having trouble gathering my thoughts.

Actually, that would be the understatement of the century, because it truly felt as if my brain had literally melted and I was no longer even capable of processing anything. As I sat in the back of the Uber, I couldn't help but bring my fingers up to my mouth, incessantly biting the nails as I stared out the window with a frown permanently etched on to my face. My brain had either melted or was running a million thoughts a minute—I wasn't sure. A headache was in the making, though, I could feel it.

The Prince of England. I had met the actual Goddamn Prince of England last night, which I had told myself was probably just a dream until I realized my cell phone was missing and, lo-and-behold, he was the one that had found it. Last night had been a whirlwind, what with Zoe being a drunken mess and throwing up, and I had yet to tell her on whose shoes she had puked on. The fact that I had met Prince Harry when it was all going down hadn't properly sunken in my brain, and I hadn't had much time to actually dwell on it seeing as I had to take care of my best friend.

But seeing him today? Looking even more gorgeous in person than I thought possible? That was enough for me to double over. Not to mention the fact that he asked for my number! That brought up a whole other set of emotions that I couldn't make out for the life of me—all I knew is, I was nervous and anxious and excited and curious. As well as completely and utterly thrown off, but that was to be expected. And when realization dawned on me that this man—this extremely well known, rich and intimidating-by-status man—had asked me out to lunch. Me! An ordinary woman with an ordinary life and an ordinary job. I half expected someone to pop out and tell me this was some sort of practical joke, but nope. It was real. It was all definitely real.

Although. . . Seriously? What in the holy hell was the Prince of England doing in New York City? Not only that, but what was he doing at a bar in the middle of the night in this city? It wasn't even some type of extraordinary bar—it was completely normal and relative. Shouldn't he be going to some popular and expensive joint in the Upper East Side where one shot is worth twelve dollars?

Still with my head in the clouds, I thanked the Uber driver when he pulled up in front of Zoe's apartment building, and I got out before hurrying up the front steps and inside the building, making my way to the elevator as I repeatedly pressed the button. My right foot impatiently tapped on the marble floor as I waited, internally freaking out as the elevator arrived.

Stepping inside and pressing the button for the fourth floor, I nervously chewed on my lower lip. My heart was once again erratic in my chest, and I was surprised it hadn't burst out at this point, seeing as this has how it's been since the moment I had called my phone and realized who had picked up on the other end. At this very moment, Zoe was the only person I could talk to about this—especially since it's practically her fault that I met the Prince of England.

Not that I'm complaining that I did, but all of this extraordinary stuff is way too out of the blue for someone as ordinary as me. I was all types of freaking out, which was evident in the way I reached Zoe's apartment door and began knocking on it incessantly to the point where my knuckles started to ache.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" came Zoe's mildly irritated voice from the other side of the door, moments before she swung the door open and her annoyed expression melted away into a confused one. "Vera? What the hell, man?" she asked as I stepped inside, not bothering to be invited in because, really, it wasn't needed.