He's Not Worth It

“He’s not worth it.” That’s the lie Maggie’s been telling herself for months. That it wasn’t worth it to even try to get involved with a man like Harry Styles. He was a world traveler, a famous musician. And her? She was just his neighbor. A friend. “He’s not worth it.” She said it so many times to herself, but never once did she believe it.

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5. {Five - Saint Valentine}

February 2018

It was Valentine’s Day and Maggie didn’t have a date. She also didn’t even have friends to go out with because they were all out with their own significant others. And even if her friends were available, she knew she wouldn’t be any fun anyway. She had class at eight in the morning the next day, which made going out pointless. So Maggie was sitting at home alone for another uneventful holiday and instead of studying or watching TV, she decided to go to bed early.

Bad idea.

Unfortunately for her, Harry’s condo floor plan was an exact mirror image of hers, meaning his bedroom wall connected with her bedroom wall. And even though she’d never been in his bedroom, she was certain his bed was pushed up against that connecting wall, much like her own.

After that night, she was pretty certain Harry wasn’t gay. Kendall was over and there were many, many unnatural sex noises coming from beyond that wall.

Maggie tried to tune it out. She tried putting her pillow over her head. But nothing worked. Nothing could distract her from hearing the man she lusted over having sex with his banshee of a girlfriend. It was extreme torture. Maggie ripped the sheets and blankets off of her body and got up out of bed. Her stomach hurt, along with her heart.

She went to the kitchen to get a glass of wine, hoping it would help her sleep. Sleep was the only thing that was going to help her rid the visions of the two of them naked together.

Bringing the bottle with her to the living room, she sat down on the couch with her glass of Riesling. She turned on the TV for some distraction, but not a whole lot was on. She finished up an episode of Friends, but an infomercial came on afterward, so she turned the TV off. Maggie pulled the blanket from the back of the couch around herself and walked out on the patio, sitting down at the table, looking up at the night sky. Sometimes she wished the stars were more visible in Los Angeles, but the smog prevented that.

For February, it was quite warm, which she appreciated. It was an unseasonable cold winter in California and it was nice to have warm weather again.

From somewhere deep inside of Harry’s house Maggie heard Kendall shout at Harry. She couldn’t make out what was being said, but next came Harry’s loud booming voice. They were fighting. Wasn’t the fight supposed to come before sex? Everyone knew angry make-up sex was the best. Maggie shook the thought from her mind. She’d rather they never had sex again. And they might not after their fight. They were really screaming at each other. Maggie wasn’t typically nosey, but she really wished she could hear what the fight was about.

Fine! Have a great night, Harry!” Kendall screamed sarcastically. Of course, that she could hear.

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day!” Harry yelled back at her.

Seconds later, Maggie heard his front door slam. She felt bad for Harry. She didn’t know who started the fight or what it was about, but she still felt bad for her friend. She sat there for a little while wondering what Harry was doing or if he was okay. Pretty much every light in his house was on, so she knew he hadn’t gone to bed.

Just as she decided to go back inside her house and forget about everything that happened, she heard Harry’s patio door open. Hemingway ran out an instant later. Her heart stopped beating in her chest for a moment, thinking that Harry came out with the dog. She didn’t want him to think she was eavesdropping on him. When she didn’t see or hear him, she skid her chair back against the cement so she could get up and it made a terribly loud noise. She froze in place, hoping it wouldn’t alert Hemingway to her presence.

“Maggie?” She heard Harry question.

“Shit,” she breathed quietly under her breath. He did come out after all. A second later, Hemmy was running up to her at the table.

“Yeah,” she called out to Harry, knowing she’d been caught. He popped his head out from beyond the divider that was built for privacy between each resident’s patios.

“Hi,” she said, smiling timidly. She could feel her blush creeping up her face as she sat back down in her chair, petting Hemmy’s head.

Thank God she covered herself with a blanket because she was only wearing a camisole and some shorts.

“Hi,” he said, walking toward her.

Good God. He was only wearing a pair of black skinny jeans that were riding incredibly low on his hips, no boxers in sight. She could see all his definition – from his perfect “V”, up to his perfectly sculpted abdomen and chest that was adorned with countless tattoos. She was like a God damn cat in heat. She was certain she was about to jump up and mark him. Thankfully, she had more self-control than that, even if she couldn’t stop her brain from lapsing into teenage girl crush mode.

“How long have you been out here?” He asked curiously.

“A while. I couldn’t sleep,” she said as she began blushing again when she remembered why she couldn’t sleep.

“Oh,” Harry said quietly sitting down in the chair next to her.

There were two other chairs that were further away, but he just had to choose the one that was less than a foot away from hers. She secretly wondered if he took great pleasure in torturing her.

“I’m sorry if our fighting kept you awake,” Harry said timidly.

“No, no. It wasn’t that,” she said, waving it off. It most definitely wasn’t the fighting.

“Are you okay?” She asked, trying to read his expression. He seemed really sad.

“She just… she didn’t even want to spend the night with me. It’s Valentine’s Day. And she didn’t want to stay. She’s… she’s pulling away from me because she’s going to Paris soon for work,” Harry said, opening up to her.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said quietly.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling himself forward to put his face in his hands. He was so close to her. So incredibly close. She could smell the alcohol on him the second he sat forward.

“Have you been drinking, Harry?” She asked and he looked up at her with wide-eyes.

“Yeah. We went out before we came back here,” he said, eyeing her bottle of wine.

“I see you’ve been drinking too,” he said with a smile.

“I couldn’t sleep. I figured this might help put me into a coma or something,” she joked.

“Mmm, this is good stuff too,” he said, grabbing the bottle to take a look at the label before putting it back on the table.

“I like my wine expensive,” she told him with a mischievous smirk and he chuckled.

“Want some?” She offered.

“Sure,” he said with a nod.

“I’ll grab you a glass,” she told him, getting up from her chair, forgetting how much skin she was showing.

She turned around to grab for the blanket and saw how Harry’s eyes immediately attached to her ass. It filled her with a sense of pride – or maybe it was lust. She couldn’t decipher the feeling. All she knew was that it made her feel desired, even if it was for something as trivial as the look of her backside. But it was Harry – and Harry was looking at her that way, so it mattered.

She walked into house sans the blanket and retrieved a clean wine glass for Harry from the cupboard. He smiled at her as she came back out. Hemingway was sitting in his lap, staring up at her hopefully.

“There’s my boy,” Maggie cooed at the puppy.

“Me or the dog?” Harry joked.

“Ha,” she let out a laugh as she sat down, handing him the empty wine glass. Harry chuckled as he poured himself a glass and then topped hers off.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Maggie May,” Harry said, holding up his glass for a toast.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” she breathed, clinking her glass with his before they each took a sip. His eyes never left hers the whole time and it sent a shiver up her spine.

Her Valentine’s Day hadn’t been a waste after all. She had Harry and Hemmy next to her at the end of the night and she couldn’t think of anything better than that.

“Come here,” Maggie said to Hemmy as she grabbed him out of Harry’s lap, making sure to be careful of his surgical stitches.

“Aww, he was so warm,” Harry whined playfully.

“Well, I need a Valentine and Hemingway needs a Valentine... so what do you say, Hemmy? Will you be my Valentine?” Maggie asked, holding the puppy up to her face. He gave her a sweet little lick up her nose and she burst out laughing.

“I think that was a yes,” Harry laughed.

“Oh, I love you too, Hemmy,” Maggie said, hugging his cute little puppy body against her, while Harry watched the two of them with a wide smile on his face. 

“What?” She asked Harry as she placed the blanket on her lap and Hemmy on top of it.

“You,” he said.

“What about me?” She asked giving him a weird look.

“I love that you love Hemingway so much,” Harry said, continuing to smile at her.

“I do love Hemingway,” she said, looking down at the dog, petting his head.

“He loves you, too,” Harry told her. Maggie looked up and smiled widely at him.

Harry’s eyes stayed on her and that damn smile stayed on his lips, so Maggie had to take a drink. He was making her uncomfortable and nervous and incredibly turned-on. He had no idea what he was doing to her – or did he? If he did, it was cruel. So she chose to believe he was clueless of the effect his charm had on her.

Finally he looked down at his own glass and took a sip, than another – then finally downed the whole glass.

“Would you like more?” She asked with a smirk.

“Yes, please. It’s good,” he smiled. Maggie poured him more and topped off her own.

They sat there for quite a while drinking and talking. Harry was an amazing conversationalist. He told her stories about life on the road and about all the shenanigans he and his friends get into. Maggie talked about her job at the library and her (not so) exciting school life.

There was something about the way the two of them were so entirely comfortable with each other that didn’t sit right with Maggie. It was probably because she trained herself long ago that falling in love with this untouchable man was bad – straight up bad news. She knew, in the end, that she was only going to get her heart broken, but she couldn’t stop it from happening. The love she had for Harry was unstoppable, like a speeding freight train about to run off the tracks.

But she at least had enough sense to try to make a move to put on the brakes.

“I-I should get to bed. I’ve got class in the morning,” she told him finally.

“Maggie May the genius,” he said with a drunken smirk. Every time she mentioned school, without fail, he would always call her that nickname and it made her heart flutter.

“Yeah. Something like that,” she said with a blush. Harry downed the rest of his glass – his fourth glass of wine since he’d been out there with her.

“It’s been fun, Maggie May,” he said, leaning in toward her.

Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus Christ. Her heart was in her throat. And then it happened…

Harry left the smallest of pecks on her lips. Maggie immediately stopped breathing. She stopped thinking. She stopped living for a moment.

His lips hovered over hers once he pulled back, but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t leaving. When her breathing hitched in her throat, he pressed his lips harder against hers. Holy Jesus.

She didn’t know what it was, the moonlight, the wine or the heat pooling between her legs, but she went for it with gusto. She kissed him like she’d never kissed anyone before in her life. It was Harry Styles after all – she wouldn’t be getting the opportunity twice.

He parted her lips and she felt the sweet velvet of his tongue against her own. He tasted of the wine they were drinking, but he also tasted of lust – a heavy, heavy dose of lust. It was lips and teeth and tongue and lust. And she knew it was bad. She knew it wasn’t right. He may have just had a fight with Kendall, but they were still together. It wasn’t right.

Maggie’s hands found the bareness of his chest and pushed him lightly away. His lips left hers and a small gasp left her own, knowing how foolish she was being – she would never get the chance again. But she didn’t want him like that – drunk and pissed off at his girlfriend. If she were to have Harry, she wanted him to actually want her and she wanted him to be able to actually remember wanting her in the morning.

Harry’s eyes stared into Maggie’s, searching for a reason as to why she stopped him.

“I think we should just… slow down,” she breathed quietly and he nodded in agreement.

“We’re drunk and being irresponsible. You… you have a girlfriend,” she continued to explain and he nodded again.

“I really should get to bed,” she told him and she watched as he once again nodded.

Okay, why was she the only one saying anything?

“Sorry, Hemingway. I kissed your Valentine,” Harry said with a smirk as he picked up his dog from Maggie’s lap. Maggie couldn’t help the smile that pulled up her lips. Harry was so adorable and it made her heart melt.

“He’s not going to let you hear the end of it,” she joked, trying to keep the moment light.

“Don’t I know it,” Harry said, rolling his eyes playfully as he smiled at her before standing up from the chair and setting Hemingway on the ground.

Maggie stood up too, throwing the blanket over her shoulder, grabbing the wine glasses in one hand and the empty wine bottle in the other.

“Do you need help bringing them inside?” Harry asked.

“No. I think I’ve got it,” she told him with an appreciative smile.

She knew if he were to come inside, her raging libido probably wouldn’t let him leave until the morning. So it was probably best if he just went home. She walked toward her patio door to call it a night.

“Goodnight, Maggie May,” she heard Harry say.

“’Night, Hazza,” she breathed through a smile as she went inside, closing the door behind her.

Oh, good Lord. She couldn’t deny it – best Valentine’s Day ever.

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