Risy Behavior


3. Chapter 3

The second we exited the café, we were confronted by two paparazzi. They kept asking questions, like if I was anyone special, if I was his girlfriend, who long we had known each other and then if his fans knew about me. I looked up at Harry as the paps kept following us and his face stayed in a hard line, not even a simple and pleasing smile. I guess having been in the music industry for so long and making is so big that it did some wonders to your personality.

After about ten minutes of walking the paparazzi decided to finally leave him alone and the seemed to vanish one by one. Within that time I was taken to the parking deck and raised an eyebrow as he took me to a fancy looking range rover.

“Nice car,” I comment, watching as he opened the passenger door for me.

“Thanks are you getting in,” he asked, motioning for me to get inside. I looked at him and then back at the car, contemplating what in the name in hell was I doing with him? You wanted an adventure? No wait; you’re an idiot for going with a celebrity you barely know and for all you know could be a serial killer in disguise. I ignored my sub-conscious and climbed in, taking a deep breath as he closed the door behind me and rounded to the driver’s side.

I was crazy, no wait that was an understatement, I was being completely mental. He got in quickly, starting the car but not before giving me a sideways forced grin. Even if it was forced, it still did wonders to my nerves. Why was I going with this stranger? This is when my brain just goes on and on and just never stops thinking.

“Do you ever stop thinking,” Harry asks, his face holding amusement on it. Oh, so Mr. Styles could be funny, huh?

“No, and it’s annoying me to no end,” I reply, shooting him a simple smile. He smiled back and this one seemed to be a real one, at best.

“So where are you taking me exactly? A deserted parking lot,” I ask, smiling half-heartedly at him.

“No, as much as that sounds tempting I was thinking of taking you to my new apartment,” he says, giving me a brief wink before turning his gaze back to the road.

Silence filled the car at this and I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. His apartment? Why his apartment? Did he want to seduce me there? Was he a secret rapist? Surely not, and even if he was I would give in before it was even classified as rape. This man was just too sexy to pass up in any case.

Emma, focus, his apartment! He is taking YOU, out of all people to his apartment! I grimaced at my thoughts, of course I knew this but my heart was saying nothing was wrong with that. I asked him what is was like to be him and this was his way of explaining it to me… right?

“So, um… what’s it like being famous,” I ask, trying my best to clear the awkward silence and my thoughts.

“Being famous? It’s great, other than everyone poking fun at your private life and not being able to see family as much,” he replies. I search his face for any hint of regret but there is none; his face is again masked with that hard surface of non-feeling.

“So you’d rather have your privacy and not be famous,” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. I was twisting his words and I knew but still, I was intrigued by him.

“I never said that but sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. The fans are worth it,” he said, being the moral one I guess.

“Oh, that’s really sweet,” I say, giving him a genuine smile. He only nodded and then the car came to a halt. I looked outside and saw a large building to my right.

“My apartment building,” he explains, getting out of the car, coming around to open my car door. At least he was being a gentleman right?

“Thank you,” I said, hoping out of the car and looking around. The sidewalk was extremely busy, which was a surprise since it was the middle of the morning.

“Come on,” Harry said, slipping his hand into mine. I nearly froze in my spot but if it weren’t for Harry tugging on it to guide me to his flat. This sudden touch was weird, when he took me from the café he was behind me the whole time, guiding me around but now it was complete hand contact. My hand buzzed with electricity of his touch and honestly it gave me a nerve ending feelings I had never felt before. This boy was doing wonders to my heart and it scared me just a little bit.

He guided me through the stairs and we ended up on the fourth floor with just two more floors above us. I watched as he fumbled in his pockets, finally letting go of my hand to get his key and open the door. He walked in but I stood behind, confused at my actions thus far. Now was my chance to run if I wanted to but my conscious wasn’t making an appearance, seems she was also curious of Mr. Harry Styles as well.

“Are you coming in,” Harry asks, motioning for me to enter with him. I nodded slowly, looking at the nearby stairwell but my feet were already guiding me into his apartment. This wasn’t me at all, I hadn’t even been to a previous boyfriend’s apartment, let alone house before and it was all so new? Yah it was all so new and everything about this situation felt wrong.

He was a superstar and I was just a mere random citizen. He was loved and cherished by millions, whereas I was loved by family and friends. He had the riches, while I had to work hard for a living to pay off tuition. He was a freaking sex god and well I was just a plain girl with no good features to compliment me.  Everything just felt wrong, weird, unsettling and not me at all.

“This is my humble abode,” Harry says, a cocky smile plastered on his face as he watched me take in my surroundings. The apartment itself was nice and homey, but his stare burned holes into my body and gave me an even more unsettling feeling.


I move around the apartment, looking at the pieces of small trinkets here and there and smiled as I saw a table of photographs. There was a picture of a younger harry, with two other women. I could only guess that it was his sister and mother since there was a resemblance. The woman who looked older was gorgeous, and they were all smiling, Harry looking happier than he ever had in from of me.

Duh, he only knew me for what? One day? He isn’t going to look that happy with you even if you tried. I scowled at my thoughts and turned from the table to look at Harry. His eyes were slowly beginning to shade from the guarded surface and he seemed to relax.

“Why’d you bring me here,” I ask, turning around to face him. He had taken off his blazer and was wearing a white t shirt underneath. I could tell through the shirt, just like before, that he worked out and more than an average person would.

“I wanted to get to know you better, you don’t seem like other girls,” he explains, his head inclined to the side. He watches me closely, as I move over to the table behind the sofa of which he is seated at.

“That’s because I’m not like other girls, Mr. Styles,” I say playfully. He smiles softly and pats the seat beside him, indicating for me to sit with him.  I sit down, crisscrossed as I face him, watching as his face turns to one of surprise at the close proximity. He visibly begins to tense but it washes away just as quickly as it came.

“I can see that, Emma,” he replies, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. My insides began to do tricks on me as I took in his looks at such a close destination. His skin was smooth but it held that I –just-shaved-this-morning look that put butterflies in my stomach. His broad jaw sent shivers down my spine and his dimple poked out faintly with his smile. He still held that boyish look but it held its manly features as well. All in all he was one of the most attractive men I’d come across as of late.

“So you want to get to know me better, is that right,” I ask, shifting slowly in my seat. This has got to be the weirdest situation I have ever been. I never ever am alone with guys unless it’s a guy friend that I’ve known for a few years. I’m one of those weird girls who steer clear of idiots of the male species but Harry seemed different, not a good different but it wasn’t horrible different either.

“Yes, that and I want you to profile me,” he says, not taking his eyes of me. I stare at him, my mouth agape from this news. He wanted me to profile him? Why?

“You want me to what,” I ask, looking to find any recognition of any joking nature. His face showed none and I had to pause and think back to his request.

“Profile me, I said I want you to profile me,” Harry replies smoothly. I watched as he his face fell of any hard exterior and for the first time I saw the pain that was layered underneath. My breath caught in my throat and I closed my eyes at his stare.

“Why,” I ask, staring down at the floor. What was the sudden change? The second I told him what I studied he seemed to guard himself more but now as we sat here, face to face in his apartment, he seemed more calm and comfortable around me.

“Because it’s never been done before. And since you are young and someone who doesn’t seem to judge quickly I want you to be the first to attempt without me being an arse to stop you,” he replies, his eyes shining with humor but still layered with pain. “So will you do it?”

I looked around his apartment, seeing the family portraits, pictures of friends and of his band mates. Did I really want to profile him? What if I didn’t want to? What the hell was I on about? Of course I wanted to profile him; it was in my nature to.

“Okay,” I say, meeting his stare. “I’ll do it.”

“Good, how do you do it anyways,” he asks, his relaxing level becoming better. He watches me as I look around again. A person’s living area is one of the best ways to profile someone, if not watching their actions around other people. But he wanted to be profiled by just himself so I gave him my best by taking in his figure better.

“Well for one, I can tell that you exercise a lot and it may not be just to look good. You work out to, maybe. Let go of anger or frustrations, yes,” I ask, looking into his eyes at any sign of truth. He nods slowly, shocked at this. Score one for Emma then.

“Okay, also you dress more sophisticated than a normal guy your age, that in tells maturity in more situations then others,” I say. The words are just coming out my mouth but judging by his reactions they are right.

“The media thinks of you as some gay man, mostly due to the fact that you haven’t dated anyone for over 3 years,” I say, gaining up momentum on this profile. His eyes flash with certain anger at the word date and I figure that the women she dated before then was someone who broke his heart.

“3 years ago, or so it seems, some woman broke your heart didn’t they? She was someone special to you wasn’t she,” I ask, watching his reactions more closely. He stiffens at my words and I can tell I hit a nerve. I expect him to yell at as his eye cloud with sorrow and anger but he is trying to control his feelings at that moment.

“But that’s not what’s we are here about. Okay, moving on,” I say, my nerves striking up. He was having an effect on me, his eyes smoldering at my words in which he is relieved of dropping the subject.

“You’re a softy. Flirty and cheeky when you want to be and also I can tell you care a great deal for your family,” I saw as I observe the pictures on the walls. Family pictures hang everywhere as well as pictures of his band mates. “I can also tell you care for your band mates too. They are a great part of your life as well as your fans aren’t they?”

“They are,” he replies, gradually building his relaxation stage. I smile softly before sitting back against the cushions of the sofa.

“And I can tell you are passionate about what you do, you put on a smile when needed but when it’s not, you are quite serious. You have walls built up, not only from women but from others around you. Again like I said before I can also tell you are quite loving, it’s refreshing to see a playful side,” I say matter factly.

I am rewarded with a smile which catches me off guard. I would have thought that my words would set him off again but he seems to accept my words. He shifts forward, itching closer to me and I stay still, unaware of his next move.

“Loving am I,” he asks, arching an eyebrow. My breath catches in my throat as he places his hand on my jean cladded thigh. What was he doing? Trying to kill my ovaries in mere seconds? I had never felt this flustered before and my face felt like it was burning. This wasn’t good, not good at all but I seemed to welcome it.

I could feel myself control slipping slowly as I met his heated gaze. My insides seemed to melt as he stared down at me, a smirk plastered on his lips. His thumb drew circles into my thigh and my breathing became shallower by the second.

“Yes,” I whispered, answering his question. Harry narrowed his eyes at me and I could tell he was contemplated what to do next. He suddenly pulled back, his guard going back up. Someone was being bipolar. I watched carefully as he shifted to clasp his hands in front of his figure and took a deep breath before turning back to me.

“Well Miss Winston, it seems you can read me very well. It has never truly been done before, to my knowledge,” Harry says, smiles shyly. Wait shyly? What in the hell?

“Is that a good thing,” I ask, my voice shaking slightly. The effect he had on me already was astounding, who knows what his pans were next.

“It’s a very good thing, and since we passed the coffee date, how about I take you on a real date,” he asks, his eyes smoldering yet again.

“Yes,” I say quietly, suddenly becoming very self-conscious. I never went on dates? What was the sudden change? First he wanted to show me the real Harry Styles and now he wanted to go on a date, yes this was very normal, going on a date with Harry Styles was very normal.

“Good, I’ll drop you off at your place now and pick you up again at 7,” he says, smiling as he gets up, grabbing his coat. I sit in shock and just watch him warily, still not believing his words.

“Okay,” I hear myself say, and somehow I am standing. I am going on a date with a famous person, a famous heartbroken singer at that. Oh hell, this was going to be interesting.

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