Secrets Long Kept

What would happen if Harry Styles fell for a Swiftie? How long could she keep her fandom a secret? What would happen if Harry and his bandmates found out?

Grace Woodhouse is happy with life. But then she crashes-quite literally-into Harry Styles. He makes it his mission to get her to date him, but Grace is torn since she's a diehard Swiftie. Will their love last?

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6. She Receives a Lovely Message

Keeping a low profile doesn’t seem to be in Harry Styles’s vocabulary.  He—and a One Direction security guard—pick me up in an all-black SUV with tinted windows.  Harry’s styling his usual curly locks, a black dress shirt, and skinny jeans tighter than any I own.  I’m dressed nicely, too, since Harry said we’re going someplace fancy.  I chose a pretty teal wrap dress and paired it with tinted stockings and black heels.

At dinner, we get a very private table away from the windows, so I have reason to hope this date will go unnoticed by Directioners.  I’m not sure I’d like to face their hate just yet.

As we eat, Harry suddenly says, “Let’s play twenty questions.”

“You start,” I reply.

“Where’d you grow up?”

Putting on a snobby accent, I say, “A lovely estate in Door County, Wisconsin.  That’s the peninsula, in case you don’t know.  My father owns a large company up there.  He started it shortly after he and my mom got married.  They grew up in Door County, too, and wanted to raise their children there.”

“I’ll have to visit sometimes,” he says with a flirtatious smile.

I just roll my eyes.  “I’d ask you the same question, but I know enough about One Direction to say you lived in Holmes Chapel.”

Harry looks impressed.  “I didn’t know you were a Directioner.”

“I’m not,” I respond. “I might be, if there weren’t so many mean Directioners.  I’m simply a fan.”

I don’t mention that part of the reason I’m only a fan is because of the Directioners reaction to ‘Haylor.’

“What tattoo of yours is your favorite?” I ask.

“Probably either the ‘A’ I got for my mum, or Gemma’s name in Hebrew.”

“You’re such a momma’s boy,” I tease.

“Do you have any tattoos?”

I can’t help but laugh.  “Goodness, no.  I can’t tolerate pain well.  Not to mention my parents would disown me.  Tattoos aren’t classy, in their minds.”

Harry’s face falls.  “They’ll hate me then.”

“You’re Harry Styles,” I try to console him. “If they ever meet you, they’ll adore you.”

That puts a touch of a smile back on his face.  Then he asks, “This might be a bit forward, but are you a virgin?”

I blush to the roots of my hair.  “Yes, it is forward,” I reply.  I thoroughly examine my plate with my eyes. “But, no, I’m not.”

When I look up, Harry appears surprised.  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem so innocent.  I was expecting you to still be a virgin.”

“I didn’t say I sleep around,” I scoff. “But I’m not a virgin.  Am I proud of it?  Not really.  But that’s mostly because the guy turned out to be a douchebag.”

Harry reaches out to touch my hand.  “I’m sorry, Grace.”

We’re at the restaurant for over two hours, slowly eating and talking.  It’s great learning more things about Harry, things that the fans don’t get to know.  He’s really a sweet guy.

We head back to Harry’s hotel.  He invites me to spend the night, but he’s obviously not pressuring me to have sex with him.  Instead, we curl up on the couch and watch The Notebook—after I tease him for loving it so much, of course.

When I’m in the bathroom, washing up before bed, I check my phone.  It falls out of my hand, and thankfully, I catch it before it hits the tile floor.  Somehow, Harry and I were spotted by paparazzi.  Directioners quickly figured out who I was, since Harry and I have Tweeted each other a couple times and he follows me.  But my Timeline is full of mentions.

“Oh, lucky me,” I say as I head into the bedroom where Harry is.

He looks up.  “What’s wrong?”

I hold out my phone so he can see.  “I’ve gotten my first death threat.  I feel so fortunate.  And we’re not even in a relationship!”

“We’re not?” Harry frowns.

“Just because we’ve kissed and been on a date doesn’t make us a couple,” I tell him. “Give it time.  And don’t worry—the messages don’t bother me.  If they were truly your fans, they’d love whoever you date.”

Harry pulls me in for a hug and kiss.  “I’m glad you’re so strong,” he murmurs.

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