Know: A Harry Styles Fan Fiction

In the car after dinner, I sit closely beside Harry. His arm is tangled around mine while my head rests on his shoulder. Soft, staticky music plays from the car radio as I silently watch the street lamps and the twinkling, decorated trees rushing past the window. It's one of the little things I miss since I started taking the subway everyday.

A large, colorful contraption catches my eye and I sit up closer to the window to view it. "Wow," I gasp. "Is that the London Eye?"

"Yes, it is. You've been on it before, right?" Harry says, staring at it too.

"No," I timidly confess.

Harry turns to me, his expression serious. "You must be joking."

I shake my head.

"People from all over the world come to London for this thing and you're telling me you've never been on it?"

"I just haven't gotten around to it yet."

"Well, you're getting around to it now."

He tells the driver to turn around and we're dropped off in front of the Eye. I stop in my tracks, awe-stricken. The world famous ferris wheel towers over most buildings and competes with skyscrapers while its bright, changing lights seem to illuminate the entire city. And that's only at ground level.

We stand in our capsule, which feels a bit too large for just the two of us. As we're lifted higher and higher, the London skyline gradually comes into view. Lights from the ferris wheel beautifully color the frozen river below and the city seems to shimmer in sync with the faint stars in the sky.

I stand close to the plexiglass once we're at the peak, taking in the spectacular panoramic view. Harry joins beside me. His hand brushes mine and our fingers interlace, falling between each other automatically. For a while, we have not said anything, only admiring the beautiful, brilliant white city.

"So what have you been doing in London if you haven't been to the London Eye?" Harry asks.

"School, work. Getting by so I can eventually enjoy doing things like this," I explain.

"I admire that about you, Jules," he says, glancing at me. "You've got so much ambition and you work so hard for what you want. It's incredible."

I look up at him. The lights from the wheel give his skin a light blue tint. "What's incredible is how you're so good at having fun while working hard, too. Not a lot of people know how to do that, especially me."

"But you're getting the hang of it," he says with an affirming squeeze of my hand. "Has this become your city of dreams yet?"

I chuckle softly. "What? Did I say that?"

"You did. It was the night we met. You told me it could be, eventually."

I consider it for a moment, listening to the low hum of the night breeze fill my pause. "Yeah," I say, nodding, smiling. "I think it is now."

The wheel slowly rotates until our pod descends to the ground. When step out, Harry gravitates toward an ice skating rink that's been set up in front of the ferris wheel.

"Oh, God, no. I'm so uncoordinated," I say, tugging him in the other direction.

"It's okay, you'll have me," he assures, keeping his feet firmly planted and his grip on my hand.

"What if I fall on my ass?"

"Then I'll pretend to fall too."

I laugh with him but his eyes are filled with a certain earnesty. It takes me a second after the moment has passed to realize he was being completely serious.

After we lace up our skates, we step into the rink. As soon as I try to move, my foot slips and clutch firmly onto Harry's hand. He orients himself in front of me and intertwines both of our hands, grasping firmly to my gaze.

"Don't worry," he says in a slow, soothing tone, "I've got you."

Suddenly, I take notice of all the people that have created a dense circle around the outside of the rink, staring and taking our pictures like we're a zoo exhibit. It's strange and highly uncomfortable and I watch Harry for his reaction. His eyes are still on my feet on the ice, occasionally glancing up at me, lips pressed together in concentration. The crowd begins to grow and the flashes are brighter with the addition of professional photographers, but Harry appears blind to it all.

Finally after some guided practice and quite a lot of convincing on his part, I grow comfortable enough to skate on my own. "This is insane!" I say as we glide with the crowd, making laps around the rink. "I haven't ice skated since my sixth birthday party!"

"I've never ice skated before in my life!" Harry responds.

I shoot him a skeptical look but he just laughs. The cold, icy air bites at my nose and cheeks but I'm having too much fun to slow down. Harry's wispy, brown curls are out of his face, flapping behind him in the wind. My fingers are still intertwined with his, not because I need it anymore, but because I like how it feels there. They're cold like mine, but bigger, cloaking my hand with their softness. I'm starting to suspect he's simply immune to all types of winter dryness and chafing, from his hair to his lips to his skin.

Once we're off the rink, the previously watching fans mob around Harry, and he graciously takes every request for pictures and autographs.

"Hi, Harry!" a tiny voice cries from below. My eyes fall on a little girl, no more than two feet tall, wearing a pom-pom beanie and a smile that lacks a front tooth.

"Hi there, love," Harry says, kneeling down. "What's your name?"

"Macie," she replies. Her voice sounds like wind chimes.

"Would you like a picture, Macie?"

"No, thank you. I just want a kiss for Teddy." She outstretches her arms with a raggedy yellow bear at the end of them.

Harry places a sweet peck to its furry head and the girl wraps her tiny arms around his neck. "Teddy says thank you."

"Tell Teddy I said you're very welcome," he answers, before standing back up.

While he resumes with autographing and posing with the other fans, Macie turns around and immediately her eyelids stretch open, frozen with shock and bewilderment. "Are you a princess?" she softly asks.

Before I can answer, Harry swivels around after a fan takes a picture of them together and says, "Yes. And she's my princess."

The little girl's eyes widen even more at me and the older girls' eyes do the same. In less than a second, I can practically feel everyone's attention split and now, against my consent, I'm sharing the spotlight with Harry. Several camera clicks and flashes go off in my direction, pairs of eyes trail me, and whispers flutter all around. I feel like an alien specimen being studied in a lab.

"A real princess?" Macie squeaks.

I sigh, cutting Harry a glare. He returns it with a sly smile. Only someone heartless could turn down that little girl's dazzling eyes, so I bend down to meet them and respond, "Yes, a real princess."

"Do you have a fairy godmother?" she promptly asks.

"I sure do."

"Do you live in a castle?"

"A massive one."

"Do you have tea parties with other princesses?"

"Everyday."

"Macie!" a woman calls from outside the clump of girls.

"I've got to go now," she says gloomily. "I can't believe I met a real princess today. My friends will be so jealous!" She fans out her imaginary skirt in a quick curtsey and squeezes her way out of the circle.

For the next few minutes, I watch as Harry tends to the rest of the fans. Over and over, he smiles and signs, smiles and signs, smiles and signs. It's tedious and repetitive, and even long after we've left the area, we can't walk more than two steps without getting stopped by someone. I don't know how he does it, but, hell, I applaud him for it.

"Wasn't that just the most darling thing?" Harry comments while we stroll along the sidewalk.

"You didn't have to lie to her, you know," I say.

"Weren't you the one that said you wanted to be Princess Ariel?"

"I was four."

He takes a moment to eye me, taking care to go over the details from my heels to my hair and everything in between. "Hmm, you're right... you could never be a princess. You're way too fit."

I nudge him playfully. "So, at what point do your cheeks hurt from all the pictures you stop and smile for?" I ask.

"We have a cheek trainer that comes on tour with us," he answers with nonchalance.

I laugh, and he says, "Don't worry, we're almost to my flat."

He sounds mildly apologetic and I'm about to tell him I don't mind stopping for fans. But after realizing what he said, my head snaps in all different directions, scanning our surroundings. It's not some wealthy neighborhood with giant mansions like I imagined he'd live in. It's a standard street with standard apartment buildings much like mine and Effy's.

After unlocking the cobalt blue door, he turns to me. "Hi, MTV, I'm Harry Styles and this," he waves me through, "is my crib."

While he's occupied in the kitchen, I decide to take a look around. In the front room, shelves are filled with a multitude of glistening awards and plaques, and some occasional loose change. There's a jacket draped over the side of a couch and on the coffee table lays a couple video game controllers, a pile of mail that has started to spill onto the floor, and a couple empty soda cans. I guess I'd been thinking that rich and famous people like him hire other people to clean up after them that I'm surprised and actually a little pleased to see his place like this.

"Sorry it's sort of messy," Harry says from the kitchen. "I'm not home very often."

"No, it's fine," I reply. "I just thought it would be... bigger."

I hear his soft laugh behind me. "Why does everybody say that? I'm just one person, I don't need a huge house or anything. A single bedroom flat is perfect for me."

He doesn't notice me as I turn and stare at him, mystified that someone so sensationally famous manages to stay so humble and down to earth.

"Candles?" I say, giving him a puzzled look when I notice the beige colored item at the end table.

"I like candles," he answers shamelessly. "They make everything smell nice."

I pick it up and hold it under my nose. The aroma is so sweet of french toast, I would probably try to eat it if I didn't know it was a candle.

"Here you go," Harry says, slowly handing me a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Careful, it's really hot."

As I blow on the foamy top layer, Harry slides a DVD into the player. He then joins me on the couch, tossing a thick, quilted blanket over us. I nestle in close to his warm body, taking baby sips from my hot chocolate and watching the familiar opening scene play.

"Oh my god, are we watching Elf?"

"It's your favorite Christmas film, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"So yes, we're watching it."

I glance up at him and he steals a quick, chocolately kiss.

I say it's my favorite Christmas movie but truthfully, Elf is my favorite movie, period. Anything with Will Ferrell is gut-wrenchingly hilarious but there's also some key elements on family, childhood, and, like Harry mentioned the other day, romance. Yes, an elf in love is apparently possible.

"What would you do if I was an elf?" Harry asks about halfway through.

"I would ask you to hook me up with all the cool toys from the North Pole," I reply.

"Would you move to the North Pole? Since I'd have to live there."

"You'd only live there around Christmas time."

"Not true. We elves have to work all year long to make enough toys for all the boys and girls!"

"'We elves,'" I mimic, giggling. That might explain why he's so inhumanly good-looking.

"So would you?"

"Move to the North Pole? No way, are you kidding?" I say, raising my eyebrows at him. "London winters are cold enough for me."

"But you would never see me anymore."

I shrug, gulping the last of the lukewarm drink. "I guess we can FaceTime."

His features droop into an exaggerated pout.

I chuckle gently. "Or maybe I'd ask Santa to fire you so you can stay here with me forever."

Harry's arms go around me, holding me tight. I feel his lips curl against the nape of my neck as he mumbles, "I like the sound of that."

Notes