Ours [harry styles] ✓

You and I

I tore my eyes away from the sleeping child in my arms and focused them on the television screen.

"And now, performing their new single "You and I", the boys who all the girls want to be with and who all the guys want to be - it's One Direction!" The presenter gestured wildly with his arms as the boys took to the stage one by one, grins stretching across their faces. My eyes lingered on four of them briefly before resting on the one member who had changed my life. Harry Edward Styles.

I watched how his dimples popped in his cheeks and the way his wild array of curls bounced with every step he took. You didn't need a paternity test to know who Nola's father was; you just had to look at the two of them. At just a year old old, Nola was the spitting image of Harry. Apart from my fair colouring, she had the curls, the dimples and the green eyes.

Harry Styles had been my drunken mistake, not Nola. At 18 years old most teenagers would have classed their unplanned pregnancies as 'accidents' or 'mistakes', but despite being the last thing I'd had planned for my life at that age, I'd never loved anything quite as much as I loved my daughter. As a child with few friends and parents who were always preoccupied with other more important matters, Nola was the one person who had ever loved me equally as much back.

I'd bumped into Harry in a bar in Soho, London whilst on a night out for my best friend Elenore's 18th birthday. I'd been the stereotypical drunk girl, tripping over everything and and everyone in my path and crying after someone had spilt their bourbon and coke on my skirt. That someone had turned out to be Harry. Although he'd been equally as drunk as I had, if not more so, he had still been overwhelmingly polite and apologetic, immediately asking the star-struck woman behind the bar for a towel whilst repeatedly promising me he'd buy me a new skirt. My crying had turned into laughter, which Harry had liked very much, and somehow we'd ended up talking about how my skirt would probably be better off undone and on the floor anyway. This of course had lead to some rather irresponsible and unprotected behaviour which had resulted in a postitive pregnancy test and the end of any hopes I'd had for going to uni to study creative writing. When my parents had found out that I was expecting a baby they had flat out refused to offer me any support, whether it was emotional or financial. I'd ended up dropping out of sixth form, getting a full time job until Nola was born and moving into a flat with Elenore whose life was just as messed up and dysfunctional as mine.

And I still hadn't told Harry a thing.

I figured he would barely remember that night or would even want to. Seeing him on stage, on the television, with thounsands of fans screaming his name, reminded me of exactly why he would never know. He was famous. I didn't want to drop a bombshell on him that could potentially mess up his successful career and I didn't want my daughter in the public eye. It made sense for her to have nothing to do with him.

"I know what you're thinking." Elenore said, suddenly appearing from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. "You're trying to convince yourself again that you're doing the right thing." She was right, I did this frequently, particularly if One Direction were on the television.

"So?" I continued to stare at the screen, humming along to the chorus.

"Let me make this easy for you," she sighed. "Just contact his management and tell him."

My jaw dropped. "What? That's the most ridiculous idea you have ever come up with, Ele."

"No it's not. When I lost my job and considered becoming a prostitute was my most stupid idea actually." She smiled and started towards the kitchen. "Just think about what Nola will say when she finds out why she never had a father in her life. She'll hate you for it! They have storylines like that on Eastenders all the time."

"I think that's the point, Ele. It's Eastenders. My life isn't a soap opera." Although, the more I thought about it, it really was.

"That didn't really answer my question though." She pointed out, disappearing from the room.

Although my decision about Harry's involvement in Nola's life was pretty much final, there were times when I found myself about to crack. I did feel bad that I was depriving Nola of a relationship with her father, but even if I did tell Harry it didn't mean he would actually play any sort of permanent role in her life. He was always busy. Whether he was recording songs, performing songs, writing songs or even just being social, he was always busy. The media always had something to say about him, his whereabouts or the people he spent his time with. I couldn't bear the thought of Nola's name suddenly being one of those headlines too. Rather than hate me for the lack of her father, she might hate me for that. In my eyes I was just protecting her. Or perhaps I was protecting myself.

If Harry knew Nola then she wouldn't be all mine anymore. I wouldn't be the only person she loved and worshipped and I wouldn't have her with me all the time. And then there was the the fear that if Harry turned out to be a deadbeat dad, it would break my heart too.

Nola stirred in my arms and looked up at me with expectant eyes. I ran my fingers through her unruly curls and smiled down at her. "I think it's time someone went to bed, young lady."

Nola turned her head and looked at the screen as One Direction announced that their single was available on iTunes. She began to giggle and I found myself scowling as the camera focused on Harry. I pulled her into my chest and glared at the television over her shoulder. Why did I have to have a child with him of all people?

"Time for bed." I grabbed the remote quickly and silenced One Direction, wishing that this mess could be silenced in my head. I carried Nola through to our shared bedroom as she buried her face in my neck and mumbled to herself sleepily.

As I lowered her down onto my bed her lips opened into a yawn that caused her dimples to pop. My heart ached momentarily. Even with the television off, the reminder of Harry was with me every day and was always going to be. I changed Nola's nappy quickly and silently before slipping her into soft flannel pyjamas, holding her close for a moment before taking her over to her cot.

"I love you." I told her as I tucked her in.

She sighed contently in response. She was so perfect that it was almost unbearable.

As I turned and walked to my own bed a single tear trickled down my face. She was so perfect that it wasn't right that only I should know. She was only 50% me afterall, the other 50% deserved to know that they had created something so precious.

As my head hit the pillow I groaned.

I was going to have to tell Harry.

a/n: So I hope people liked the first chapter! I actually started this story in 2011 via TwitLonger on Twitter when I had a Harry Styles twitter fan account (omg 16 year old me lol)