Back For You (Harry Styles)

{BOOK 1- COMPLETE} Meet Amabel Walker, the girl who kept everyone else out, who put up walls to protect herself from another accident, like the one that caused her hideous scar on her neck. She’s bitter and doesn’t let anyone in, but that soon changes.

Now, meet Harry Styles. Worldwide boy band hottie. Slighly cocky, but charming and sweet when he needs to be. He’s caring, and wants to help Amabel get back to being her normal, carefree, silly and loving self. Can he get under her skin and make her come out of her dark shell?



27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Shit, shit, shit! I thought. Why did I say that? I didn’t speak as Harry walked around me, bending down slightly so we were at eye level. He put his large hands on either side of my face. My blonde hair provided a curtain around my vision, but I mentally cursed as Harry tucked the strands behind my ears. I hesitantly looked up at him, and saw a smile on his lips and his curls askew. 

“What did you say?” He asked me slowly, the grin never disappearing.

I let out a sigh. “Nothing -I said nothing.”

Harry stood up straight, so I had to look up at him now. “You called me beautiful,” he smirked, and pointed at me. His eyebrows rose.

“No, Harry, I didn’t,” I protested, pointing back at him.

He didn’t say anything; he just threw me over his shoulder. I let out a scream, and felt Harry’s chest rumble as he laughed. 

“Let me down!” I demanded. I couldn’t help the smile on my lips as I lightly pounded Harry’s muscular back. He just chuckled. “Harry!” I screamed as he twirled me around me.

I couldn’t help but laugh along with him. His musical laughter was contagious. Harry ran back to the kitchen, and without any warning, set me down on the kitchen counter, his arms never untangling themselves from my waist. In the blink of an eye, or laughter died out, expressions gone serious. Our eye contact never broke as Harry spread my knees so he was standing between my legs. I was forced to wrap my legs around his waist. His large hands found my lower back, pressing our bodies together. With our foreheads touching, I stared into his piercing green eyes. Mine fluttered closed when Harry crashed his lips to mine. My fingers intertwined themselves his Harry’s curls, our lips molding together. He clutched me closer to him and pulled me off the countertop. I tightened my grip in his hair and around his waist, holding myself to him. My heart rate didn’t slow as Harry broke the kiss, which left us both gasping for breath. I locked my fingers together around his neck and studied every inch of his face.

“I think you’re beautiful, too. More than you will ever know.” Harry finally spoke, breaking the silence that had fallen upon us.

“Great news, Haz! The snow - Oh shit, sorry!” a voice cursed, and when I turned to see who it was, I laughed when I saw Louis covering his eyes.

“It’s alright, Lou,” Harry laughed and untangled myself from him, just holding my hand instead. “What’s up?”

“Oh yeah! The roads got plowed this morning! Yay!” He cheered, and I smiled at the brown-haired boy’s happiness. He always seemed to be in a good mood.

“Really?” I asked, running to the nearest window, yanking back the curtains. Louis was right.  


“Do you really have to go?” Harry whined while pulling at my arm.

“Yes, Harold,” I replied sternly, tucking a strand of hair from my face. I was packed up and ready to go home, but apparently Harry had other plans for me.

“Fine,” He jutted out his lower lip and flashed me his puppy dog eyes.

“Harry, don’t look at me like that.” I whined while crossing my arms.

“Like what?” He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows and showing me his dimples.

“You know.” I shoved him playfully, giggling. The curly-haired boy faked a hurt expression, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if he was wounded. “You can’t keep me here forever, Harry.” I pointed out.

A mischievous grin spread across his lips, a glare sparkling in his eye. “You really shouldn’t have said that.” He purred, green eyes darkening. 

Once again, he grabbed my waist and forced me to jump and wrap my legs around his waist. A giggle escaped me as he pressed my back against the door and placed his hands on either side of my face, trapping me. I could feel his hot breath on my neck as Harry planted kissed up and down my jaw line. My eyes fluttered closed as Harry continued to lick and suck on my skin. I caught myself fisting Harry’s curls, savoring his touch. 

“Harry.” I whispered, unable to focus completely on the words coming out of my mouth. I could feel his lips turn up into a smile against my skin. Another gasped escaped me as Harry’s large hands gently squeezed my butt, and then cupped my thighs. I still couldn’t believe the effect the curly-haired boy had on me. I was completely distracted from earlier thoughts, not even worrying about my parents. 

My thoughts were shattered when Harry’s long fingers traced my scar lightly. The pleasure I was feeling seconds before had evaporated, my eyes shot wide open. 

“Harry, please.” I pleaded, pushing him away harder than I meant to. 

“What’s wrong love?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?” His green eyes were full of concern, eyebrows knitted together. 

“No, no it wasn’t you.” I lied, sweeping my hair over my shoulder. I hated it when people paid attention to the hideous mark, let alone touch it. It brought back too many memories, ones that I didn’t want to remember. Ones that threatened to break me again. I shuddered at the thought of Owen touching me again, the stench of tobacco on his breath.

“Amabel, are you alright?” Harry said while taking my hands in his. I flinched slightly when Harry brushed away the tears on my cheeks. I hadn’t noticed I was crying. 

“I-I j-just…” I stuttered, avoiding Harry’s gaze. I subconsciously rubbed my scar as a sign of distress, tears rolling down my cheeks. Harry’s green eyes went wide and mouth formed and ‘o’ shape. 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t…”

“It’s okay. You didn’t mean to.” I finally stared into his eyes.

Harry shook his head, curls out of place. “No. It’s not okay. Please forgive me.”

I ignored his question. “I should go. My parents are waiting for me.” I said dryly. I regretted sneaking a peak into Harry’s pleading eyes.

“You can’t leave like this.” He whispered, voice cracking at the end.

I forced a smile. “Harry, it was an accident. Nothing is wrong, I promise.” I pecked his lips, the tears on my cheeks dry. Harry didn’t seem convinced. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll miss you.” I opened the door and was greeting by a cold gust of wind.

I was about to walk out the door but Harry spoke before I could close the door. “I’ll miss you too.” He whispered from behind me, a small smile playing at his lips.

I was careful not to slip on the ice as I shuffled to my car. That was so embarrassing. I couldn’t believe I had cried over something so stupid and made Harry feel guilty. I had to get used to him being forward with me, and I had to trust him. A little voice in the back of my head told me it wasn’t my fault that I went through something terrible and it was normal to act this way.

It was then that I could finally admit it to myself. I was broken. No matter how hard I tried I would still break down. Even the person I loved was no help.

Even Harry couldn’t keep the bad dreams away.

I thought to myself as I drove.

Even though I might not like it, I knew I would never fully recover from the accident. And not just that –Owen scarred me, so I could never love the way I used to. I loved people, yes, but there would always be a cautious part of my mind telling me to be careful.

No one thought I could recover, either. Not my parents, friends, not even the therapist my parents hired for me. The thing is, over the years, I got really good at hiding my emotions. I didn’t people worrying about me, so I made them believe I was okay, or getting better at least. I faked a smile every day, but I knew I wasn’t fooling anyone. They aren’t stupid.

Some days are harder than others. The days that I was with Harry were better ones; he made me feel…whole somehow. When I was alone, because he had an interview, I felt exposed and…open. It was weird, when I wasn’t by Harry’s side, I felt like if Owen came for me, it would be too easy.

I pulled into my driveway, stomach doing flip flops. Pulling down the mirror, I wiped away the tears that had recently brimmed over. I hadn’t cried in front of my parents in a year. If they saw me now, they would know something was up. I walked through the front door and hoped they couldn’t see I had been crying.

“Amabel?” My father’s voice reached me. “Is that you?”

“Yeah, dad, it’s me.” I replied while taking off my boots and coat and hanging them up.

“Sweetie, could we talk to you?” My mom said. I walked into the family room where they were.

“Okay…” I said cautiously, and then sat down on the couch slowly. A million thoughts ran through my head. Where they getting a divorce? I began to panic a bit, but my mother spoke before I could jump to too many conclusions.

“We saw something about you and Harry on the television yesterday.” She informed me.

I groaned. “Ugh, mum, whatever you heard is lies. You know what the media does to make things more interesting.”

My father nodded. “We understand that, but we don’t know if this ‘fame’ is good for you, sweetie.”

My jaw dropped. “What?” My voice slightly rose. Were they serious?

“Amabel, calm down,” My dad said, “We just don’t want Harry to influence to do something that you’re not comfortable with.” His voice rose as well.

“He won’t dad! He’s a perfect gentleman!” I shouted.

“Do you know for sure?” My mom challenged.

I looked at her with wide eyes. “Yes! I do!”

My dad shook his head. “You need some time away from him, Amabel.”

Anger boiled up inside me. How could they do this? Think this? Harry would never do anything to hurt me. “You can’t tell me what to do! I’m eighteen years old!” I yelled at them while throwing my hands up in the air.

“As long as you live here, yes we sure as hell can!” My dad shouted back. Tears of anger fell down my face as I stared at my parents.

When I spoke my voice came out as a whisper. “Then I guess I can’t live here anymore, dad,” I said, then paused before continuing. “I love him, and he loves me.”

Without another word, I went upstairs to pack a bag.

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