Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

012

        JUST AS I got out of the car, Harry had closed the door on his side with a harsh slam. The man driving us had been oblivious to our conversation the entire time, which I'm grateful for, considering if anyone were to see our interaction, they'd infer things that were highly meant to be kept behind the scenes.

        I felt a warm wind against my skin. The evening was cooler than mid day. There were so many gowns, different colors on different skin. I felt strange being one of the only ones in white. Most wore black, the most dashing shades of red. Pink, even yellow. Or a peach orange that complimented their tanned skin. Sicily's people were all stunning and unique in their own way. Their style, their culture in general, is fascinating. 

        Harry walked behind me, guiding my body with his hands on my waist. To my father, who rarely glanced in our direction, this seemed like a protective gesture. In my mind, however, it was his way of reminding me what happened in the car. This was obvious for me because I could feel his fingertips digging through my dress. 

        He was the most stunning man there. Dressed in simple black attire, however, he still managed to put to shame any man there in the most expensive suit. I knew it. Every woman had their eyes on Harry since we entered the grand house. 

        It was high off the ground. The first floor had a roof I wouldn't touch even if I climbed a latter. The area was filled with riches and luxurious pieces of art. Expensive silverware clinked together and the sound of chatter rose the more people showed up. 

        "This place is gorgeous," I commented beneath my breath. Harry hadn't responded, looking tense and irritated at the much pleasure that happened around him. People were having fun, smiles from conversationalists. Smiles from rich brats and executives. I noticed now that his hands were still around my waist. "You can let go of me you know." 

        He glanced around, only peeking over at me for a second. "I'm well aware."         

        "Then let go of me." I simply suggested. 

        Harry inhaled and shook his head. "I'm protecting you." 

        "From what? Conversation?" 

        He glared at me this time. "Don't be a smart ass." His voice was low; a warning tone he uses often with me. 

        Such a confusing man, I thought to myself. I grinned and leaned into him, knowing the more I do things like these, the faster his patience will deteriorate. What I'm provoking with this? I'm sure he'll snap at me and lose his cool. What I'm finding now is, that I'm enjoying it. Harry can scare the hell out of me with his threats, but the more time I'm around him the more I realize I like the reduced distance. 

        My back was against his front now, a loud huff escaping his mouth. "Catalina," he began to warn me. 

        "You're protecting me," I said back. 

        I heard him mutter, "Unbelievable," beneath his breath. "Curiosity killed the cat, Dollface." 

        "Well, I'm not a cat, Harry," I laughed softly, letting my eyes watch the party begin. 

        "I'm now certain you have one," he answered back stiffly. 

        I frowned, not understanding him at first. I turned my head, angled to look up at him. He hadn't been looking down at me. Instead, he watched the guests with roaming eyes. "I don't have a cat." 

        "That's not the type of cat I was talking about." 

        My eyes widened along with an overwhelming wave of heat consuming my face. I tried not to let my shock and embarrassment show, but that soon became futile the second I saw the corner of his mouth turn up in utter devious pleasure for my clear evidence of discomfort.