Strings Attached (Harry Styles FanFiction)

4. What Are You Doing?

Harry's POV

What the hell? She hadn’t reacted at all when she found out who I was. Well this is new.

It was hard to focus on driving. My gaze kept wandering to her, searching her, finally lingering on the bare expanse of her upper thigh, my curiosity peaked as I longed to see what was under the last few inches of skin tight black fabric. She was silent and rigid, a perfect statue.

"Relax, Angel,” I laughed as she visibly stiffened at the sound of my voice. Fear rolled off of her in angry waves, crashing into me, giving her away. She had begged me to leave her alone back in the club but that had only made me want her more. There was something intoxicating about the way she shivered whenever my hands trailed up her back, the way she shied away from my gaze.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? I think it’s quite fitting.” She turned to glare at me, spring eyes narrowing.

“Because I’m not your Angel.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” I chuckled already seeing that she was going to be difficult- a challenge. I liked that, it was definitely a change.

“Please just take me back,” She whispered, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. I ignored her, flipping on the stereo, grinning at the song pulsing in the speakers.

“Oh tell me, tell me, tell me how to turn your love on, You can get, get anything that you want-”

“Gross.” She grumbled, punching a button to change the station.

“What, you don’t like boy bands?”

“You’re joking right?” She snorted, scrunching her nose. Carefully, I watched her, gauging her reaction.

“I don’t know, they seem like cool guys.”

“We are seriously having this conversation?”

“They’re not all bad,” I grumbled, my hands tightening around the steering wheel.

“And you would know?” She laughed, smiling genuinely for the first time that night. I quirked an eyebrow at her, christ she was strange.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I could get them to meet you if you’d like?” I offered.

She turned to look at me, eyes bright and analytical. Finally her lips twitched up into a captivating smile, “Pass.”

“Your loss,” I shrugged, steering the car further into the outskirts of London.

“Where are we going?” She asked, turning to search the landscape for a marker, I punched the gas hoping to prevent her from reading the roadsigns.

“Where are you from?” I asked instead, trying to place the accent that had teased me all night. It was obviously American but there was something else, a slight accent on certain syllables. I couldn’t place it. Our time in the States had been limited to hotel rooms and venues, hardly ever given a chance to rest.

“Texas.” 

“Ah, I’ve been there before. Makes sense.”

“What does?”

“Texas girls are always hot.”

“Ha,” She snorted before turning back to the window.

“How long have you been here?”

“About a month... I-I’m a student at Richmond,” She was hesitant to answer my questions, picking nervously at her dress, constantly pulling the hem back down as it slipped up her thigh. I hardly heard her, eyes trained on the road as I searched for the obscure path. I could feel her eyes on me waiting for a response. Steering the car off of the main road, we coasted to a stop.

“Wha-What are you doing?”

“Shhhh,” I chuckled, catching hold of her chin, forcing her lips to meet mine.