Anna: Harry Styles

Truly Madly Deeply

15th of December 2017

I do not think I will ever get used to Los Angeles in the winter. The fact that I could comfortably sleep in shorts and a t-shirt was something that I do not think will ever sit right with me.

I officially moved into Harry's Malibu home five days ago, and it all feels a bit surreal. The fact that both of us once upon a time said that we were going to 'take things slow,' and now we are living together after just a month of dating, rather amuses me.

I woke up on the fifth day, to an empty spot beside me in Harry's bed, the curtains in his 70s interior designed bedroom still firmly shut.

I have only been to Harry's Malibu home once, and that was only to drop off some suits for him to try on before the tour started, and then I was only in his living room for under five minutes.

While his house in London has a more French feel to it, with mostly soft neutral tones and open spaces, his Malibu home interior looks like a fusion between classic 70s decor combined with the modern decor style that you see in most people's homes today, which is oddly suited to his home.

I slowly sat up, my legs still engulfed by Harry's pastel yellow quilt cover, when the door to his bedroom, Harry pushing the door open with his foot as he was carrying a breakfast tray, with what appeared to be pancakes and coffee on them.

"Morning golden girl," he said huskily, looking like he had only woken up a short time before I had.

"Morning pretty boy," I said sleepily, stretching my arms above my head, Harry walking over to me and placing the tray on my lap, kissing the top of my head in the process before walking over to open the curtains, the windows overlooking the back garden, which in turn overlooks the ocean behind his house.

"Blueberry pancakes and coffee?" I stupidly asked, knowing exactly that's what the food was in front of me, Harry let out a soft chuckle before he walked over to me and climbed back into her next to me.

"I know it's one of your favourite breakfasts, you mentioned it the other day so I thought I would make it for us this morning," he said, taking his cup of coffee off the tray and taking a long sip from it.

"This is lovely H, thank you, my love," I said, taking in the smell of the pancakes and coffee combined, two of my favourite smells as they remind me of Sunday mornings back home when Dad would make pancakes on the BBQ outside and Mum and Lauren would make us cups of coffee in the kitchen while I darted back and forth between the kitchen and the backyard, doing my best to interfere in all of the action.

"Anything for you," he said as I shot him a smile before picking up my knife and fork, cutting myself a piece of blueberry pancakes, my mouth being instantly met with the fluffy goodness that Harry had created in his kitchen.

"You should make these more often," I mumbled, my mouth half-full with pancakes and Harry rolled his eyes at me, cutting a piece of his pancake and scoffing it down like he had not eaten in days.

"What am I? Your personal chef?" he questioned sarcastically and I nodded, giving him a smug smile with my mouthful of coffee.

"You are now."

"Okay, if you say so," Harry said softly and I smiled before we fell into a comfortable silence as we finished off the rest of our breakfast.