A Lifetime With You // A Harry Styles Au

Chapter VIII - The Lies We've Told

1st July, 1955

"When are people in this city going to stop looking at you?" I grumble, eyeing yet another group of girls who walk past our car, but I'm pretty sure they're just walking around in circles. To look at Harry.

Everyone thinks Harry is attractive, it's just the way it is now. But in a time like this where the population of humans is rapidly increasing, part of me wishes we hadn't chosen somewhere quite so obvious to live. I've never had to wear gloves more than I do now, though most women around here seem to use it as a fashion statement. I don't think I've ever used anything as a fashion statement, but especially not my gloves. They're actually more an annoyance than anything else.

Harry continues looking ahead at the screen, ignoring the girls for probably the second time. He ignores most people when we do date night, sometimes even me. But I can tell he's amused by my obvious possessiveness. I should probably bring that down a little.

We're sitting at the drive-in, which we try to do once a month to seem normal to the locals, though they probably wouldn't notice. I do like the romantic kind of setting it gives, and the fact that everyone seems to be happy when they're here, even if the majority of them are teenagers. I hate cars but Harry's coral and ivory Chevy Bel Air is a convertible and my word is it nice to even just drive around in with the roof down. Neither of us have ever owned a car before now and we're probably not likely to have another, but this one is completely dreamy and if he sold it I would be devastated.

"It's probably the hair." He mumbles, elbow resting on the door of the car as he grazes the side of his index finger against his lips.

I hum a little giggle, playing with the hem of my petticoat as I helplessly smile at him. "You are the only man in this country that hasn't got that stupid haircut."

His brows raise, and he eyes me from the side with clear amusement. "You don't like that slicked back look?"

"No, it's far too much wax for not much hair." I shake my head with disdain. "Also, why do they all insist on carrying around combs?"

Harry looks at me properly then, obviously trying not to laugh at me. "I didn't realise it bothered you so much, darling."

"Well, it's just daft." I shrug. "Their hair has enough wax in it to keep it tidy for three weeks, they don't need a bloody comb."

"So you wouldn't be pleased if I decided to cut all my hair off and start styling it like those dickheads in front?" He enquires playfully, pointing to the car in front where a group of boys are irritating some poor, unassuming girls.

All of them have that same hideous hairstyle - short and slightly quiffed at the front where it's been kept with what looks like an entire tub of wax. And they all dress the same, like they were all manufactured out of the same machine.

"If you did that I would leave you until it grew back again."

He turns with a bemused gaze towards me. "Really?"

"Absolutely." I say with a single strong nod. "I love your hair, I don't want you cutting it all off to look like everyone else."

"Noted." He nods slowly, still smiling. "Didn't you do exactly that?"

I pout, bringing my finger to my lips to nervously chew at my nail. "Yeah."

Harry leans forward to take my hand before I ruin my nail with a delicate frown, smoothing over my finger with his thumb. "So aren't you just as bad as everyone else?"