FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

FIFTY-SIX.

DECEMBER, 2019. CONT.

"You can't be serious."

Blair stands beside me in the guest bedroom, watching me shove all my clothes into my suitcase like a madman. Benny sits in the corner, shoveling chips into his mouth.

The second I read that letter, I was running around the kitchen and telling my dad to fire up the private plane as I dialed Blair's number to tell her. She of course came speeding to the house with Benny.

They were having a romantic brunch by the way.

Blair and Benny arrived as I was packing my things, leaving us to now, where it's very clear she's very against this.

"That's a cool shirt." Benny comments as I toss it into the bag.

"Thanks." I beam.

"Monet!" Blair shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

"Whoa, don't shake the pregnant lady! You'll give the baby brain damage!" Benny immediately regrets his words when Blair turns to glare daggers at him.

"Blair, he told me to meet him in Paris. So, I'm gonna meet him in Paris." I nonchalantly tell her before returning to packing.

"I'm not sure how early pregnancy brain starts, but you're being fucking crazy! You're just going to drop everything because he told you to?"

"Yup."

"He can't just be a cryptic bitch and expect you to come running."

"But she is." Benny chimes in.

"Yeah, I am." I nod, zipping up the luggage.

"I can't let you go, Monet. I can't let you get hurt again." Blair admits, taking my hands in hers.

My face falls and I frown a bit. She looks genuinely concerned.

"He's worth the pain, B."

"Also, I really don't think he would fly her all the way to Paris just to break her heart. That'd be kind of rude." Benny snickers.

Another glare, sending him lower into the chair as he finishes his bag of chips.

"I swear, if you don't come back fucking married or some shit, I'm going to gut him."

-

"I wish your mom wrote me a mysterious note to meet her in Paris every now and then." Dad grumpily says as he drives.

We're heading to the airport now. I'm not wasting another second. I don't care if he's going to break my heart or do something stupid. I need to see him.

But I'm so anxious. Chances are this might be what ends things. I wish I could stay positive, but it's hard to when I don't even know where we stand.

"Or you could write her mysterious notes." I respond, glancing at him.

"Yeah, but I'm always the romantic one."

"Dad, for your anniversary you got her a bag of weed."

"Our first date when we smoked it together! That's when I knew she was the one." He sighs dreamily.

"She rented out an entire movie theater to play all of your favorite movies."

"Yeah and then we smoked the weed while watching The Princess Diaries. It's the little things. When you and Harry are m-maybe back together, you'll get it."

He's not wrong. Any time spent with that man is time well spent. Some of the best memories I have with him are the little moments.

Like lying in bed in the morning after sleeping in each other's arms all night or watching him write a song. Just sitting there as he scribbles a bunch of words down and immediately starts strumming on his guitar before getting frustrated and erasing certain words and running his fingers through his hair.

He's someone I could admire forever.

If you put him in a glass case in the middle of a museum, I would always be the first one there to see him and I'd stay until closing.

I've never met anyone that I would look at and think "I can't love anyone else" until I met Harry. He's made it impossible for me to even look at another person the way I look at him.

Even years from now, nothing about that will change.

But in reality, I don't want to love anyone else. And I'll stand by that forever. I just hope he'd feel the same about me.

"Stop overthinking it. It's going to be okay." Dad's voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I look at him and sigh. "I'm trying. But you know, it's kind of hard not to on a flight to Paris having no idea why the hell he's making me go."

Dad shrugs, turning into the airport.

"That Harry Styles will always be a mystery. A goddamn beautiful mystery."

-

When I arrived at the private plane, one of the flight attendants handed me yet another envelope and I was beginning to realize this was probably going to be a frequent thing.

Remember the hotel suite we stayed in when you first took me to see Paris in 2015? And the same one we ruined back in 2017 during tour? Go there and say "For cherry" at the front desk.

H.

At least he booked me a hotel. I'd be arriving around 7am, Paris time. Hopefully whatever else he leaves me, it comes with a damn cup of coffee because I'm going to be wrecked.

There's so much going through my mind right now.

What could he possibly be doing?

And why is he being so damn cryptic?

He's always so fucking cryptic. That's just in his DNA. Even when he's doing interviews.

Always beating around the bush.

I'm very tempted to call him. Ask him what the hell he's up to. But I doubt he'll answer and if he does, he'll probably play coy and make that stupid smirk and say something like "you'll see".

That stupid idiot I hate him.

Sighing, I lean back into my seat and stare out the window. We're in the air now and I feel sick. It's most likely the pregnancy, but I have a feeling it's the anxiety of not knowing what I'm walking into.

Harry has my heart in his hands. Which is dangerous because at anytime he could easily just toss it away or crush it. I don't even think he knows what a dangerous game we're playing.

But I'll play it anytime of the day. He can keep my heart, it belongs to him anyway.

"Snacks?" The flight attendant offers, pulling out a tray of snacks.

I eye them all, realizing they're not just the average plane snacks we get.

Macarons, cherries, watermelon slices, kiwis, and strawberries.

Damn him.

"I'm okay, thanks." I decline politely, trying to hide my growing smile but failing.

I decide to get as much rest as I can in case I won't be able to sleep when I arrive to Paris. So, I pop in my headphones and put on Fine Line, wanting to analyze the album one more time.

Shutting my eyes, I let the music suck me in as it always does. Everything he makes is just beautiful and I'll never get enough of his voice. Sometimes he doesn't even recognize his own talent.

I'll tell him and he'll just shake his head and say "you're just saying that."

If he saw himself in my eyes...

My hand slowly trails down to my flat stomach, fingers tracing over the space cautiously as if I'm going hurt myself. I smile, a wide and proud smile.

Because I know even if things aren't ever okay between us, I at least know this baby was made with love.

**

Imagine she gets to Paris and Harry's like "lol I was joking bruh".

Also sorry this chapter is so short it's a filler before it all goes down