softonstyles

[softonstyles]

Harry in Berlin. (26 April 2025)

[softonstyles]

Part Eleven

Part Ten

Word Count: 4.4K

“Wakey-wakey, eggs and. . . bake-y? Oh, you get the point. Just wake up, Biggie — it’s Thanksgiving!”

If Aurora hadn’t been disturbed from her deep sleep, she might have laughed. Instead, a groan  escaped her as she rolled toward the far side of the bed, away from where Charlotte was perched. She then made the executive decision to ignore her, and that plan had been going quite well, until she felt the mattress start to dip. In one split second, Charlotte had climbed on and was now emphatically jumping up and down, each leg outstretched on either side of her.

“Okay, okay,” Aurora sighed, rolling onto her back in surrender. “You win, I’m awake.”

“And for my last trick —” Charlotte teased, giving one final victorious hop before collapsing beside her, “— there we go!”

Aurora reached for her phone and looked at the time, squinting against the too-bright screen. “It’s not even ten yet,” she said, turning to Charlotte with a look of disbelief. “You’re never awake this early.”

“Oh, y’know,” Charlotte sang, a mischievous grin curling at her lips. “It’s a holiday and all.”

“You just got home, huh?”

“Yup.”

Classic Char.

“Besides, I know you have to cook the empanadas,” Charlotte continued before Aurora could probe any further. “You would’ve been mad if I let you sleep in.”

“I was planning to start around five.”

“Five?” Charlotte’s brows furrowed. “Aren’t they supposed to be appetizers? We’ll be two hours into dinner at that point.”

Aurora pushed herself up further, any last remnants of sleep disappearing. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean, silly, is that we usually eat dinner around three.”

“Three?” It was Aurora’s turn to blink in confusion. “As in, three P.M.?”

“Yeah, or maybe even half past.”

The stark contrast between an American and a Hispanic Thanksgiving had never been clearer: one started at three in the afternoon, and the other ended at three in the morning.

“Shit,” Aurora muttered, running a hand through her tangled curls. “Good thing you woke me up, then.”

“See.” Charlotte’s head tilted slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What time did you go to sleep, anyway?”

“Uh,” Aurora hesitated. “Like. . . ten-ish.”

A lie.

Sure, she had gone (or been dismissed?) to her room at ten, but sleep had been impossible. No matter how hard she tried, it slipped through her fingers, teasing but never taking hold — almost like a certain someone. 

Her mind had been caught in an endless loop, replaying that moment with Harry. The way he had looked at her, like she was something tempting. Forbidden.

And then, of course, the rejection. The way his voice had turned firm, almost distant.

Had she driven herself here, that alone would have been enough to make her leave. But she was stuck. Trapped in his house, with his family.

On Thanksgiving, no less.

“You’re surprisingly groggy for someone who went to bed at ten,” Charlotte remarked.

Aurora’s pulse kicked up a notch.

Did she know something?

Had she somehow pieced it all together?

But then, Charlotte’s face lit up with mock disbelief. “Oh my God — did you stay up and watch the new Real Housewives episode without me?”

Aurora froze.

That was her out.

“Uh, yeah,” she finally admitted (lied), forcing an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, Char.”

Aurora barely dodged the pillow Charlotte playfully threw at her. “Ugh, you’re the worst!”

If only Charlotte knew how right she was.

With a dramatic huff, Charlotte hopped off Aurora’s bed, smoothing her dress from the night before as she headed toward the door. “I’ll let you get ready in peace. It’s gonna be a long day.”

Add that to the list of things she had been right about this morning.

————— ୨୧ —————

When melancholy crept in — in that slow, yet definite way it always does — Aurora could rely on the act of dressing up to bring her a bit of solace. It didn’t eradicate the haunting feeling completely, but it gave her something else to focus on. Something that she could control. And this Thanksgiving, that meant slipping into a cream-colored, off-the-shoulder sweater dress.

She had cooked the empanadas prior to her shower and getting dressed, skillfully avoiding any run-ins with Harry. Now, as she made her way down the cantilever stairs, all that was left was to reheat and plate the appetizers. Once that was done, she brought them over to the dining room, where Charlotte was busy setting the table.

“Ooh, those look delicious,” Charlotte said, reaching for an empanada.

Aurora teasingly pulled the plate away. “Don’t be rude — we should wait for our guests.”

“But they’ll be here any minute!”

“Fine,” Aurora laughed, moving the plate back. “But just one.”

Charlotte didn’t hesitate, seemingly taking a quick bite before Aurora could change her mind. “So good!”

“Just like your set-up,” Aurora smiled, glancing around at the festive decor.

“Oh, no,” Charlotte shook her head. “You really think I put this all together?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“Funny.” Charlotte snickered, rolling her eyes. “But no, all I did was light the candles. Dad set everything up.”

Aurora’s eyebrows lifted in surprise — though, really, they shouldn’t have. Because of course Harry did. She would be more surprised to learn what he didn’t do (like kissing her).

“Yeah,” Charlotte continued, her smile widening at Aurora’s reaction. “He has a good eye for these things, always has. Made sure every holiday felt special for us, especially after my mom, well. . .”

Aurora nodded, giving Charlotte’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was a delicate subject, understandably so, and the last thing she wanted was for Charlotte to get lost in painful memories. Charlotte, who Aurora always believed the ‘C’ in her name might as well stand for cheerful.

It also didn’t surprise her that Harry had stepped up and been the perfect father to Charlotte. Even when Aurora was upset with him, frustrated by his ability to get under her skin (and not in the way she actually wanted), hearing things like this still made her heart stumble.

“Just for that,” Aurora said, offering a playful smile. “You get an extra empanada.”

“What do you take me for?” Charlotte shot back. “A puppy?” But when she took the empanada anyway, they both laughed.

Before she could take a bite, the doorbell rang.

“They’re here!”

————— ୨୧ —————

Charlotte’s family was just as warm and welcoming as she expected. 

In the kitchen, Aurora spent the first half-hour getting to know Anne, Harry’s mother, drawn in by her sharp wit and easy laughter. Anne had traveled up for the week, staying with Harry’s sister, speaking fondly of her time “chasing after three rambunctious grandchildren.” When she learned Aurora’s family had relocated to New Mexico, she lit up, launching into an enthusiastic story about a wellness retreat Harry had gifted her for her sixtieth birthday in Santa Fe.

Aurora listened politely, nodding at the right moments, even as a small knot formed in her chest. She truly appreciated Anne’s warmth, but couldn’t quite echo her sentiment about New Mexico; for her, home had always been more of an idea than a place. Still, she smiled, allowing Anne’s kindness to soothe the quiet ache lingering inside her.

Just then, a tiny hand slipped into hers, interrupting their conversation.

“Rora, follow me!” Margot, Anne’s eldest granddaughter, tugged at her fingers with the urgency of a royal summons.

Aurora laughed, giving Anne an apologetic wave before letting Margot pull her toward the sunroom. She had yet to see that part of the house and imagined it was as lovely as the rest. At least, in its natural state. 

Currently, it was a battlefield of stuffed animals, crayon drawings, and a well-worn train set that Theo, the middle child, had lined up with methodical precision. Carefully maneuvering past the chaos, she sank onto the floor beside Violet, the youngest, who beamed as she presented her beloved Build-a-Bear.

And just like that, Aurora was pulled into their world.

The joy, the laughter, the unspoken ease of it all — it was utterly consuming. Aurora’s brother was nine years younger than her, so she had vivid memories of playing and taking care of him while growing up. They had been each other’s constant, a source of comfort in a life that never stopped shifting. Watching these children interact, she smiled, missing him a little more than she normally did.

A delighted squeal shattered her thoughts.

“Uncle Harry!” Violet leaped over Aurora, barreling straight toward the doorway.

And there he was.

Harry bent down to scoop Violet into his arms, his laughter rich and unguarded. The sight was almost too much. He looked devastatingly handsome, the soft cream of his sweater reflecting the color of her own dress — as if they had planned it. 

And maybe, just for a second, she let herself pretend they had.

She was forgotten in an instant, left sitting on the floor with a torn Build-a-Bear and a tangle of emotions she wasn’t ready to unpack. 

Traitors.

Harry, to his credit, gave the children everything they were looking for. He let them tackle him to the ground, his laughter mingling with theirs in a joyful heap. Aurora told herself to look away, but she couldn’t. His smile, the unveiled softness in his expression — so different from the last one he had given her. . .

Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, his gaze lifted — straight into hers.

For a fleeting second, the noise around them dulled, replaced with the weight of unspoken words instead. From this angle, Aurora noticed how tired he looked. His actions with the children told one story, but his shadowed eyes told another.

That was when he clapped his hands together, breaking their spell. 

“Alright, rugrats.” Harry said. “Your dad’s calling you to wash your hands. It’s time to eat.”

A chorus of groans followed.

“But Uncle Harry,” Noah whined, echoed by the other two. “We just started having fun with you!”

Harry chuckled, ruffling the boy’s dark curls — so much like his own. “I know, I know. I’m the worst, huh? But I promise, after dinner, you can all come back and keep wreaking havoc in here.” Then he looked up at Aurora and winked. “Not like I needed all this expensive furniture anyway.”

Always the charmer.

Margot, the oldest, giggled. “Pinky swear?”

With exaggerated solemnity, Harry hooked his pinky around hers, the shine of his ring catching the light. “Pinky swear.”

That was enough to make the children scamper off, leaving behind a silence that settled too quickly. Just as she turned to follow them, Harry’s shoes came into view in front of her.

“Aurora.”

Slowly, she looked up.

The way he was looking at her — with those deep green eyes, heavy with something unspoken — was entirely unfair. He was so breathtaking, even with his brows knitted, so charismatic. Everything she promised to leave behind after his actions last night. 

So why did he look like the one in pain?

“Hi.” Her voice was steadier than she felt as she pushed herself to stand, meeting his gaze head-on.

For a long moment, he said nothing, and just let his eyes trace over her leisurely, appreciatively. “You look lovely. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Mr. Styles.” 

The formality was deliberate. A pointed reminder.

Harry’s expression shifted. “Is that how it’s going to be now?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I think you do.” A pause. “I’ve been reduced back to ‘Mr. Styles’?”

The nerve of him — as if he wasn’t the one who put an end to things last night.

Aurora held her ground. “I’m only following your lead.”

Harry’s demeanor softened, and she noticed the hesitation flickering in his eyes before he fought against it. His hands, large and warm, found her wrists and held them gently. “Aurora.”

She turned her head away.

“Darling, please don’t —”

Darling?

Someone coughed.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

They both turned their heads and found Gemma standing in the doorway, Violet perched on her hip. She looked back and forth between them slowly, but if she suspected something, it didn’t show. 

Aurora took a step back, and Harry dropped his hands as if he had been burned.

“Just wanted to let you know that we’re about to say grace,” Gemma said lightly before disappearing down the hall.

The moment between them was slipping away. Aurora turned to look at Harry, whose face had never moved from hers.

“We’re going to talk about this later.” Harry murmured, gently brushing her arm before turning to leave.

————— ୨୧ —————

As the family gathered around the dining table, Aurora found herself seated beside Harry — their late arrival dictating the arrangement. She would have preferred more distance, but he seemed unbothered, delighted even, smoothly engaging in conversation and ensuring Aurora wasn’t left out.

“How’s your MBA program going, Charlotte?” Anne asked, taking a sip of her wine. “Harry mentioned you’ve been excelling.”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Charlotte laughed. “It’s definitely tougher than I expected, and I seriously doubt I’d be doing as well without Aurora holding me accountable.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Gemma said, offering Aurora a gentle smile.

Aurora returned it, lowering her gaze modestly.

“Don’t doubt yourself, sweetheart. You’ve always done well in school,” Harry said, and then turned to look at Aurora. “And this one is pursuing her doctorate.”

“Oh, really?” Gemma’s husband, Matthew, leaned in with interest. “In what field?”

“Physical therapy,” Aurora replied. “Nothing extraordinary.”

“She’s being modest,” Charlotte cut in. “Her program is one of the best in the country.”

“That’s impressive,” Gemma acknowledged. “Matthew has a doctorate in Biochemistry. Different fields, but perhaps some overlap. You two should exchange contacts — he could be a great resource.”

“Absolutely,” Matthew agreed.

Her eyes brightened. “That would be really great. Thank you, both.”

As conversation swirled around her, a warm, deliberate pressure settled on her knee. Heat seeped through the sheer fabric of her tights — the unmistakable imprint of a hand.

Harry’s hand.

Aurora stiffened, her heartbeat rising as she risked a glance at him. He remained the picture of ease, voice steady as he conversed with Matthew, but the glint in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

The movement was subtle, but his touch wasn’t. His fingers pressed just a fraction firmer as he followed the lively conversation, then relaxed when he let out a low chuckle at something Anne said.

She exhaled, thinking the moment had passed, until —

“Aurora.” Harry’s voice cut through the noise as he rose from his seat. “Would you mind helping me bring out the desserts?”

She hesitated for only a second, unwilling to draw attention to them. “Of course.”

In the kitchen, Aurora busied herself arranging the desserts, the soft clink of plates filling the silence. She was more than aware of Harry’s presence beside her, the space between them shrinking with every movement. When his hand brushed against hers as he reached for a platter, a shiver trailed up her spine. 

She expected him to step away, but he remained rooted in his spot. Her fingers tightened around the knife as she resumed slicing the pumpkin pie. 

“I don’t like you being upset with me.”

Aurora kept her eyes on the pie. “I’m not upset.”

A soft hum of skepticism escaped him. “No? Could’ve fooled me.”

Her hand faltered for just a moment. “I’m fine, Harry,” she responded firmly, lifting her gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on her with that familiar, knowing glint.

“Ah, so I’m Harry again.” His smile was lazy, teasing, and if it stretched any further, she was sure his dimples would carve themselves into permanence. “And here I was, thinking I’d never get to hear my name sound that pretty coming from your mouth again.”

Aurora had no idea how to respond to that. No, that wasn’t true — she did. But all she could think about was the fact that he’d strung together the words your, pretty, and mouth in the same sentence, and any comeback she had wouldn’t be appropriate.

Harry leaned in just enough to send her pulse into overdrive, his voice dipping low. “I hope I’m not assuming too much, but I’d hate for you to think last night was me pushing you away.”

Her breath hitched. His family was just a room away, laughter and conversation filtering in from the dining room. Yet here he was, standing close, holding her in the palm of his hand like a secret he wasn’t quite ready to let go of.

Or keep.

“I wasn’t thinking anything,” Aurora lied.

Harry didn’t call her out on it. Instead, he picked up a delicate pastry and held it out to her. “Try this.”

She hesitated before accepting, her lips grazing his fingers as she took a bite. The contact sent a flicker of heat through her. He didn’t look away. If anything, his focus sharpened; head tilting slightly, like he was studying her reaction. “Good?”

“It’s good,” she nodded.

“I thought you’d like it.” His gaze lingered on her mouth, and he didn’t hesitate when he added, “I made it with you in mind.”

Enough.

Aurora set the tray down with more force than necessary, her composure slipping. How was she supposed to stay unaffected when he spoke to her like that? When he looked at her like that?

“Harry.”

“Mm?” His response was light, yet his gaze was anything but — focused, expectant, daring her to say more.

Why did you pull away last night?

What does this, if anything, mean to you?

The questions swirled in her brain, but voicing them felt dangerous. Instead, she shook her head. “Nothing. We should get back.”

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips. “Whatever you say.”

That damn expression again, the same words he’d first used at Cozy’s.

As they stepped back into the dining room, Harry rejoined the conversation seamlessly, his easy charm slipping back into place. But Aurora couldn’t shake the weight of his touch, the heat in his voice, the way he looked at her like he already knew she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be.

Dessert only heightened the already lively atmosphere. The children abandoned their mini dining table in a frenzy, racing over with eager hands, while even the adults indulged without restraint.

“Just one,” Gemma cautioned, eyeing the little ones. “Bedtime is around the corner, and I don’t need you all bouncing off the walls.”

“So why do you have two pastries in your hand?” Margot quipped, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Yeah, that’s not fair!” Theo protested.

“Not fay-o!” Violet charmed in, her tiny voice full of indignation. The mispronunciation sent a ripple of laughter through the room, and in the end, Gemma gave in, letting them each have two.

From the outside, it was the picture of a happy family — warm, full of laughter, simply enjoying Thanksgiving together.

But when Harry’s eyes found hers one last time, something unreadable glimmering behind them, Aurora knew — this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

————— ୨୧ —————

After dinner, Charlotte insisted everyone gather in the living room for charades. Apparently, it was a post-Thanksgiving tradition, though one would never know judging by the collective groans. The only one who seemed excited was Harry, slinging an arm around Charlotte’s shoulders as they all made their way in. “You’re on my team.”

The living room was both spacious and inviting, the crackling fireplace pulling everyone into its warmth. Aurora eased onto the couch beside Anne, directly facing Harry. She focused on Charlotte, who was animatedly explaining the rules in the center of the room — but despite her best efforts, she was keenly aware of Harry’s gaze on her.

“Can I play too? I’m seven now, so I should be able to,” Margot called out.

“Our future lawyer makes a great point,” Harry chuckled, scooping her up and settling her onto the couch beside him. “She’s on our team.”

“I’ll be the refrigerator!” Theo announced.

“You mean the referee.” Margot corrected.

“That’s what I said.”

Harry shot Theo an exaggerated look. “Big sisters, am I right?”

The two high-fived, and Aurora pressed her lips together to stifle a laugh. He was so effortless with them, so at ease — it never failed to warm her heart.

“Okay, perfect,” Charlotte clapped her hands together. “Now the teams are even.”

Aurora, Anne, her husband, and Gemma were on one team, while Harry, Charlotte, Gemma’s husband, and Margot made up the other.

“Are you sure you want to stay on that team?” Harry teased, meeting Aurora’s gaze. “It’s not too late to switch to the winning side.”

“As if,” Gemma scoffed, draping a protective arm around Aurora. “She’s ours.”

“That’s right,” Anne agreed, pulling Aurora in as well.

Aurora just laughed, lifting her brows at Harry, who responded with a smirk and a shake of his head. But despite his feigned exasperation, he seemed to be enjoying every second of their interaction with her.

They flipped a coin and it landed on heads, which meant that Charlotte’s team went first. Aurora watched in amazement as they guessed every answer almost instantly, with Harry leading the charge.

“Now that I think about it,” Gemma began, “pairing parents with their kids isn’t fair — Harry’s reading Charlotte like a book.”

“So that means you and mom should switch teams,” Harry countered with a smirk.

“Ugh, never mind.” Gemma tossed a pillow at him, which he caught with ease.

Harry turned to Theo. “Coach, did you see that? Minus five points for Gemma’s team.”

“Minus five points!” Theo excitedly called out, fully committing to the role.

A chorus of laughter filled the room as the game continued. Gemma went up first, and their team was on fire — mostly thanks to Anne, who guessed nearly every word correctly. Their back-and-forth was hilarious, playful yet fiercely competitive. Aurora laughed so hard her face was starting to hurt. Charlotte had definitely made the right call with this.

And then it was her turn.

They were on a roll — Anne’s husband had just nailed three answers in a row, and Aurora was about to act out “baking” when she caught Harry watching her.

He was leaning forward, brows furrowed in concentration, biting his lower lip as he studied her movements. He wasn’t even trying to look sexy — he just was.

“Gasping. . . gasping for air?” Gemma blurted out.

Aurora snapped back to reality, heat rushing to her face.

Oh my God.

She hurried to mime baking, but the timer buzzed before anyone could guess it.

Harry tapped the timer to silence it. “Baking,” he said, meeting her gaze with a knowing smile. “She was baking.”

And she knew exactly what that smile was referring to.

“Damn it, so close!”

They played a little longer before calling it a night around eight. The kids were getting cranky, and there was still an hour’s drive ahead.

“Are you sure you have to leave so soon?” Charlotte asked as she walked them to the door. “I really wanted you to meet Ben.”

“Don’t worry, love,” Anne said, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll meet him at Christmas. Speaking of, don’t forget to text me what you want as your gift. I’m trying to get ahead with my shopping this year.”

“Why would she text you, grandma?” Theo frowned. “Doesn’t Santa just know?”

“Alright, time to go!” Gemma cut in, steering him toward the door.

After everyone left, the house felt noticeably quieter. Aurora helped clear the table, stacking plates into the dishwasher.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Harry said, stepping into the kitchen with a stack of his own.

“You’ve got enough on your plate,” she replied, taking them from his hands. “No pun intended. I don’t mind helping.”

Charlotte strolled in, munching on a piece of pumpkin pie. “Dessert was so good, Dad. I wish we had some left over — Ben would’ve loved it.”

Harry grinned. “Good thing I planned ahead.” He opened the fridge, revealing two small plates wrapped in foil, each labeled in what Aurora presumed was his neat cursive handwriting: Charlotte and Aurora.

Charlotte’s face lit up. “This is why you’re the best.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Ben was great.

He and Charlotte fit together perfectly — attentive, affectionate, and clearly charmed by her sense of humor. He had a quiet, gentle presence that made it easy to like him. Aurora had interacted with him a few times before, but tonight was the first time she really got to spend time with him.

She wished Ben would’ve been able to join them earlier, but he had his own family’s Thanksgiving obligations. Still, she was looking forward to spending more time with him tomorrow. Charlotte had casually mentioned that they’d be heading to a bar in his town, meeting up with his friends for their usual post-Thanksgiving outing. The thought of Ben being there almost made up for the fact that Marilyn would be there, too.

Almost.

Now, they were all sprawled across the couch, finishing round two of dessert (Ben was a big dessert guy and had loved the pumpkin pie just as much as Charlotte had promised he would). The room was dimly lit, a movie playing softly in the background. Aurora struggled to keep her eyes open, but her attention kept drifting — not to the screen, but to her phone. She was waiting for Harry.

Earlier, he had promised they would finish their conversation, and while the thought made her nervous, she was even more eager to be alone with him again. But he had disappeared upstairs shortly after Ben arrived, and she was starting to grow restless. She picked up her phone for what had to be the millionth time, only to be met with the same blank screen. 

No missed messages. No calls.

“You talked to your family earlier, right?”

Aurora looked over at Charlotte, who was curled up on the opposite couch with her head resting on Ben’s lap.

“Huh?”

Charlotte nodded toward Aurora’s phone. “You’ve checked that thing at least ten times since the movie started. Just wondering if you got a chance to wish them a happy Thanksgiving.”

She had. They all FaceTimed earlier while she was getting ready, which had helped ease the sting of missing them — though not completely. But right now, her family wasn’t the reason she kept checking her phone, and Charlotte’s assumption only made the knot of guilt tighten in her stomach.

Unlike the Styles’ family, the Rivera’s weren’t winding down at ten o’clock on Thanksgiving night. They were probably in the middle of a loud, chaotic karaoke session with her aunts and cousins, far too preoccupied to be texting her back.

“Oh, yeah,” Aurora nodded, forcing a small smile. “Just waiting to see if they get back to me.”

Charlotte gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t stress about it. Worst case, you just talk to them tomorrow.”

“Right,” Aurora said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of lying to her friend. “Thanks, Char.”

She set her phone down and tried to focus on the movie, but it was impossible when she was in Harry’s vicinity.

Before long, the warmth of the room and the quiet background noise of the movie lulled her into drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavy, and as sleep pulled her under, she knew — without a doubt — that was the one place he would be waiting for her.

————— ୨୧ —————

A/N: woohoo! things are going to start heating up soon 🤭 ANGELS i need to know your thoughts on this — what kind of lover do we think dadrry is? gentle, dominant, somewhere in between? make sure you share your thoughts here!

thank you so much for reading! 💖

Tag List: (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda @femalestyles @boom-shaka-la @mrswidowjohansson @gigglingstyles @tobegoodisgood @fruity-harry

[softonstyles]

Wow okay part ten was EVERYTHING! The way Harry was genuinely happy to her there in his home was so sweet! And their whole dynamic in the kitchen was just encompassed how they fit really well together. Loved how easily it felt with their banter throughout the whole thing. AND THE ALMOST KISS?! HELLO I JUST ABOUT DIED HOW CLOSE THEY WERE GIVING INTO THEIR CONNECTION!! However I never thought CRANBERRIES would pop their little bubble😭 then the way he switched up on her I would be so embarrassed and honestly cry😭

I’m so excited how this is all going to pan out! You’re so talented!

AHH! please get off anon so i can give you a 💋 for this!

i really love their dynamic and promise to do it as much justice as i can 🥹 THE SWITCH UP WAS SO CRAZY, YOU’RE SO RIGHT (but he was so wrong) FOR THAT — sounds like mr. styles has some groveling to do 😏

thank you so, so much for reading and your sweet words, you angel you 💘

[softonstyles]

Gahhhh you killed me with part 10!! Great amount of tension and then right before the snap….angst! Too good!! I’m so unbelievably excited for the next part! I really hope Aurora figures out a way to tease Harry in a very Aurora-like fashion lol

stop it, this is so sweet! 🥹 i have a little more angst in store for the couple BUT IT’S ONLY BECAUSE i want the payoff to feel well deserved, y’know? 🙈 thank you for reading, love!

[softonstyles]

Part Ten

Part Nine

A/N: okay, we're finally making some headway in this chapter 😎 (sort of) — i truly appreciate you reading this, thank you so much 💖 (always)

Word Count: 2.2K

Harry stood near the doorway; striking in a dark, three-piece suit that molded to his frame with tailored precision. Dark waves, loosened by the day's wear, softened his features — composed yet undeniably a little undone. His green eyes held the weight of exhaustion, but the faint smile at his lips suggested he was far from weary.

He looked like something out of a dream.

One of hers, to be exact.

"Mr. Styles," Aurora murmured, stepping forward. "It's nice to see you."

Harry crossed the space between them in smooth, purposeful strides, pulling Aurora into a firm, unwavering embrace. His arms locked around her waist, strong and grounding, and without a second thought, she leaned into him.

This wasn't the kind of distant, obligatory hug shared out of mere politeness. There was something deeper beneath it, something unspoken yet impossible to ignore. Whether it was coming from him or from her, Aurora couldn't tell, and she had no intention of ruining it by searching for a name. The quiet solace of being close to him was more than enough.

"It's really nice to see you, too, Aurora," Harry said, voice muffled against her hair. When they finally pulled apart, his hands remained at the crook of her arms. "Did you find the drive okay?"

"More than okay," she assured. "Thank you again for letting me stay this weekend."

He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me. If it were up to me, you both would be here more often." And from the warmth in his gaze, there was no doubt he meant it.

Slowly, Harry's hands fell away, leaving a quiet emptiness in their wake. It had been too long since Aurora had last seen him, and the loss of his touch left a hollow ache that she knew it should not.

"What are you working on?"

"Oh," she blinked. "Just rolling out dough for empanadas tomorrow."

"That sounds delicious." After a pause, his brows arched with amusement. "See? We're all so lucky to have you here."

Heat crept up her neck as she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "No, I'm the lucky one."

Harry's grin deepened, but he didn't argue. Instead, he gestured toward the staircase. "Why don't I change into something more comfortable and join you? I've got some things to prepare for tomorrow, too."

Aurora tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. She wasn't sure what exactly he had in mind, but the thought of spending more time with Harry sent a quiet thrill through her.

————— ୨୧ —————

Less than fifteen minutes later, Harry returned to the kitchen, now dressed in a black sweatshirt with a white shirt peeking out beneath it. The contrast made the gold chain around his neck stand out even more, catching the overhead light with each subtle movement. It was a small thing — a glint of gold, an afterthought — but still, her pulse quickened.

Aurora tried steering her attention back to the empanadas, but the mind was a delicate thing. Her thoughts had already wandered, no longer focused on the task at hand.

No, she was thinking about how that chain might feel against her bare skin. How it might press into her collarbone, her throat, while he —

"Can I help with those?"

Harry's deep voice pulled Aurora from her scheming thoughts, sending a jolt of awareness. Her grip tightened around the spoon as she forced herself to look up at him. He was closer than she'd expected — close enough to catch the warm, woodsy scent of his cologne.

"That's okay, I'm almost done. I'll put them in the fridge and cook them tomorrow."

Harry let out a low, skeptical hum, but didn't step back. Instead, he leaned a hip against the counter, arms folding across his chest. "Are you sure? I'm highly capable, you know."

She didn't doubt it for a second.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she fought back a smile. She loved him like this — relaxed, teasing. "Oh? And what's on your to-do list?"

"I'm on dessert duty," he replied, already turning toward the cabinets in search of a mixing bowl. "Pie, cornbread, and cranberry sauce."

"You bake?"

"That surprises you."

Her gaze swept over him — the broad set of his shoulders, the way his sleeves were pushed up like he was ready to get his hands dirty. "I mean," she began, "Charlotte always mentions how busy you are with work. I guess I just assumed you didn't have time for things like baking."

"I see." He nodded, lips curving. "But I'm only human. Everyone should find a way to decompress, no?"

Aurora could think of at least five better ways for Harry to decompress — none of which involved a rolling pin.

Before her thoughts could wander too far, she refocused on the last batch of empanadas. "Is that why you took so long deciding on the bakery special at Cozy's?"

The question slipped out before she had a chance to rein it in. The moment the words left her lips, she caught the slightest pause in his movements.

"Very observant of you," he said after a beat. "But yes, that was why. I'm no pâtissier, but I can handle a stand mixer. Or at least, that's what my family claims. It's why I always get roped into making dessert for the holidays."

Aurora smiled, savoring the way he spoke about himself. Moments like these were rare — Harry was always more interested in learning about her, always steering the conversation in her direction. But now, he was offering her a glimpse into his world.

And was greedy for more.

"I'm curious," she said, tilting her head. "How'd you get into it?"

He didn't hesitate. "I worked the front desk of a bakery when I was sixteen. Things would slow down after the holidays, and I hated standing around with nothing to do. One day, I was talking the ear off of one of the pastry chefs — he was clearly focused on his work, but I was young and didn't take the hint. Eventually, he cut me off and said that if I was going to annoy him, I might as well be useful." A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he shook his head at the memory. "That was the day I learned about the creaming method. It's the key to perfect cakes and cookies. The rest was history."

Aurora had been smiling, nodding along — right up until he said the word creaming.

"That's so — uh, that was. . ." She cleared her throat, which now felt dry. "A really nice story, Mr. Styles. Thank you for sharing that."

His voice took on a quieter, more intimate edge. "Aurora, you can just call me Harry. No need for the formalities — not with me."

Her throat worked around a swallow, the only response she could muster.

After tucking the empanadas into the fridge, Aurora drifted toward him, unable to resist the pull. "What's next?"

"That depends. Are you ready to hear my very particular opinions on cranberry sauce?"

"Are they as strong as your opinions on baked goods?"

"Stronger," he teased. "I take my holiday food very seriously."

Aurora shook her head, laughing despite herself. "This should be good."

He guided her through simmering the cranberries with the sugar mixture, filling the kitchen with warm, spiced aromas. They moved effortlessly around each other, falling into an easy rhythm. And when their hands brushed or their arms met in passing, neither seemed in a hurry to pull away.

Aurora was folding the wet ingredients into the dry for the cornbread when he brought up school. She shared how things were going, even mentioning the grade she'd received earlier that day. Without Marilyn there to overshadow it, she could actually let herself enjoy the moment.

"That doesn't surprise me," Harry said. "And to think you were so worried. I'm glad you're doing well."

His words sent a rush of warmth through her, and she ducked her head, smiling. "It's only the first semester, which is normally the easiest. Ask me again in a year."

"I will," he countered, steady and sure. And because Harry never said things lightly, she knew he meant it. "And you'll tell me the same thing — you're doing well. You'll see."

"Yeah, okay, Mr. Styles," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

"Harry," he corrected, giving her hand a light tap with the whisk.

"Sorry," she laughed. "Yeah, okay, Harry."

"By the way," his fingers brushed the hem of her crew neck, the one he bought for her. "I really like this."

"Thanks. It's actually my lucky crew neck. And my favorite, too."

"Lucky?"

"Mhm. I wore it while studying for my first exam and then again when I got my results," Aurora hesitated when she noticed Harry's expression slowly begin to shift, something unreadable behind his eyes. Now shy, she started to ramble. "Which, now that I say it out loud, sounds kind of. . . gross. But I always wear it over something else, and we have a washer and dryer in our apartment, thank goodness. . . Plus I do laundry twice a week, so —"

"This is your favorite?" He interrupted gently, saving her from spiraling further. "You wear it because you think it brings you luck?"

She nodded. "Yes, and yes — it always does." And then, for some reason (perhaps the way he was looking at her, like he was drinking it — her — in), she added, "Plus, the person who gave it to me is really sweet, so. . ."

Harry's lips twitched. "I don't know if I'd say sweet. . ."

Then, without warning, he reached for the flour.

Aurora turned just in time to see the playful look on his face before a streak of white dust landed across the bridge of her nose.

"Did you just —"

"Huh," he shrugged. "Must've slipped."

Aurora's mouth fell open, taking the bait. Dipping her finger into the cornbread batter, she smeared it across his cheek. "Whoops."

Harry stilled, touching his face like he couldn't believe she'd just done that.

"Wait —" Aurora took a step back, suddenly wary.

Too late. The flour bag was in his hands, and before she could react, another light dusting fell across her top.

"Harry!"

He was laughing now, deep and unrestrained. "What? I thought we were playing fair."

"No, not fair. You started it."

"Did I?" He crossed his arms, tilting his head in mock thought. "I think it was an accident."

Aurora wiped at her top, glaring at him with a smile on her face. "Liar."

"Careful, Aurora," he warned, inching closer. "You might just hurt my feelings."

"Oh, I'm sure they'll recover."

Laughter filled the kitchen as Aurora darted away, Harry close behind in playful pursuit. Flour dusted the air, batter smeared in retaliation, their teasing escalating with each swipe. It began as nothing more than a game—playful, teasing, perfectly innocent.

Until it wasn't.

In the span of a breath, Aurora found herself backed against the refrigerator, wrists pinned loosely at her sides. Harry stood over her, his grip secure but not demanding. The laughter from before melted into a slow, weighted silence. The air was thick with the scent of flour and spice, but Aurora barely noticed — her focus narrowed to the slow, steady rise of his chest, the subtle hitch in his breath.

Meeting his gaze sent a slow, simmering heat curling through her. His expression was no longer unreadable; his dark, searching eyes locked onto hers, filled with an intensity that left no room for misinterpretation.

A reckless thought took root.

What if she just kissed him?

What if, for once, she didn't stop herself?

Slowly, instinctively, she shifted forward. Just enough for her breath to skim his lips. A muscle in his jaw tensed. His fingers curled, grip tightening ever so slightly. He was keeping her in place, but somehow, it felt like Harry was the one on the verge of slipping.

They were playing with fire.

Crossing a fine line.

And yet, resisting felt impossible. Aurora's lashes fluttered, anticipation winding tight in her chest as she leaned in, ready to finally —

A sharp hiss cut through the silence, followed by the acrid scent of something burning.

The cranberries.

He exhaled heavily, eyes squeezing shut. Harry's chin dipped to his chest, the grip on her wrists loosening. "I should get that," he murmured, stepping away.

The quiet between them grew, dense with unsaid words and unresolved tension. It settled over Aurora, heavy and suffocating.

She wanted to say something, to ask if he felt it too. But when Harry finally turned back, the air between them had shifted. Instead of bridging the gap, he widened it.

"Here," he said, handing her a damp rag. "To clean up." The teasing warmth in his voice was gone. In its place stood a man who was careful, guarded.

Slowly, she wiped her hands, waiting — hoping — for him to say something, anything, to acknowledge what had almost happened.

Instead, he cleared his throat. "I can finish up here. You should get some rest."

Ouch. The words stung, a clean dismissal that left no room for argument. For a fleeting moment, she hesitated, half-expecting him to take it back. To stop her.

But he didn't.

With measured steps, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, willing herself not to blink, not to let the sting in her eyes win. Aurora already felt raw, exposed. She refused to add humiliation to the list.

If Harry was going to leave her hanging, make her feel foolish for almost crossing that line — then Aurora would make sure he never got the chance to do it again.

Part Eleven

————— ୨୧ —————

if you would like to share your thoughts on this chapter, i would love to read them! it always warms my heart to hear from you — thank you so much for being here :') click here to share your thoughts, ask questions, or simply say hello! 💖

Tag List: (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda @femalestyles @boom-shaka-la @mrswidowjohansson @gigglingstyles @tobegoodisgood @fruity-harry

[softonstyles]

Absolutely loving the tension that you’re building up between Harry and Aurora! It’s such a realistic timeline and the secret yearning from them both is amazing!

oh my goodness, thank you so much for saying that! 🥹 i’m always trying to balance building tension without dragging things out, so your feedback truly means the world 💖

[softonstyles]

Part Nine

Part Eight

A/N: i know i've been teasing this slow burn for a while, but i promise — things are going to start heating up soon! ;D

Word Count: 1.9K

Aurora sat nervously, biting on her lower lip as she awaited her exam results. Professor Prendergast had spent the past five minutes pacing at the front of the lecture hall, his voice heavy with disappointment. The class average on their fourth exam was a sixty-three, and he made it abundantly clear that if they didn’t turn things around before the final in December, many of them wouldn’t pass Gross Human Anatomy.

His words settled like a weight in her chest. Aurora had spent two straight weeks studying — canceling plans, camping out in the library, doing everything possible to make sure this exam didn’t break her streak. She’d done well on the others and couldn’t afford to slip now, not this late in the semester.

For good measure, Aurora even wore her lucky crew neck — the burgundy one Harry gifted her when she saw him last. It hadn’t started as that, her “lucky” crew neck, but Aurora happened to be wearing it the first time she aced an exam, and then again when those results came back. She had plenty of comfortable sweaters to choose from, but it was practically a superstition at this point.

Prendergast hastily moved down each row, setting each exam face down. At the very least, she appreciated his discretion. He was tough on them, sure, but not as bad as Grimshaw, her Histology professor, who had no problem humiliating students in front of their peers.

(Rumor had it that when a student once complained about Grimshaw’s methods, he didn’t even bother denying it. Instead, he doubled down: “Yes, and I’ll do it again. If she has a problem with it, she should reconsider her place in this program.” Things were brutal out here).

Prendergast finally reached her desk. He placed Aurora’s exam on the table in front of her and, in a rare show of praise, leaned in. “Well done, Ms. Rivera.”

Aurora thought she had imagined it until she flipped the paper over.

An A– was circled in red ink at the upper right-hand corner. Her mouth fell open in shock as she scanned the pages, pausing to read his comments on the few questions that had been missed. 

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Marilyn drawled from beside her.

Marilyn sat next to Aurora out of alphabetical misfortune rather than choice. With last names both starting with R, Professor Prendergast had assigned them seats beside each other on day one. Marilyn had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that Aurora didn’t always mesh with but learned to simply tolerate.

She was in Aurora’s physical therapy cohort, and her boyfriend happened to be good friends with Ben — Charlotte’s new beau. That connection meant occasional forced social interactions, which both she and Charlotte endured for the sake of peace. So, instead of rolling her eyes at Marilyn’s unnecessary remark, Aurora settled for a neutral, “What do you mean?”

“You always act so surprised when you get a good grade,” Marilyn continued. “Knowing damn well you have the highest average in this class. Maybe even the entire cohort.”

Aurora shook her head, still riding the small high of her grade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She slipped the test into a folder and packed it away.

“Sure,” Marilyn sighed. “Good job, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Aurora considered asking Marilyn how she did but thought better of it. Judging by her mood, it wasn’t great.

“Anytime,” Marilyn muttered, gathering her things and following Aurora out the door.

This was what confused her. Marilyn was always curt with Aurora but still gravitated toward her. When Aurora didn’t like someone, she kept her distance from them. Marilyn, however, seemed to operate under a different set of rules.

Aurora made forceful small talk about the weather as they walked toward the parking lot. Charlotte had agreed to pick her up, and for once, she was on time (thank God). Her white convertible was parked at the curb, top down despite the crisp autumn air. 

Aurora sighed when she realized Marilyn was still trailing behind her. She could see Charlotte’s smile falter as they approached.

“Oh, hey, guys,” Charlotte greeted, her usual enthusiasm dimmed by Marilyn’s presence.

Marilyn wrinkled her nose as she peered around the car. “Jesus, Charlotte. When was the last time you brought this through a carwash?”

Aurora tuned them out, tossing her backpack into the backseat. Beside it sat her navy weekender bag, packed to the brim with clothes to last Aurora the next four days. She shook her head, unsure of how Charlotte had convinced her to come over for Thanksgiving break.

“Please?” Charlotte had begged every night for the last week, meandering behind Aurora whenever she got back from the library. “If not for me, then for dad — he’s really looking forward to having you over!”

And really, how was she supposed to say no to that?

Her own family was across the country, and Aurora’s flight home wasn’t until Christmas. Turning down Charlotte’s invitation would have been rude at best, and suspicious at worst. Sliding into the passenger seat, Aurora put on her sunglasses, exchanging an irritated look with Charlotte.

“Right, well, we’ll see you at Cambridge Bar on Friday,” Charlotte said, shifting the car into drive.

“Yup,” Marilyn replied flatly. “See y—” The rest was cut off as Charlotte hit the gas, leaving Marilyn standing in the parking lot.

“Cambridge Bar?” Aurora turned to Charlotte, brow raised. “Do I even want to know?”

“Nope.” Charlotte grinned, shaking her head. “Which is why I wasn’t planning on telling you until right before.”

Aurora rolled her eyes, too drained from the morning’s events and too anxious about what was to come to even bother arguing.

“Anyway,” Charlotte began. “I’m so excited you’re coming home with me this weekend! It’s going to be so much fun. You’ll finally see where I grew up, meet all my childhood friends —” She launched into a monologue about all the exciting things they’d be doing, listing them off with a kind of giddy enthusiasm that made Aurora’s head spin.

To an outsider, Aurora probably came across as annoyed. But it wasn’t that she wasn’t looking forward to spending time in Charlotte’s hometown — quite the opposite, in fact. Aurora had heard nothing but good things over the years and was eager to finally experience it herself. She was just. . . nervous.

About Harry.

School had been a good distraction, but not enough. No matter how busy Aurora was, he still managed to slip into her thoughts — as she zoned out in class, while she mindlessly scrubbed dishes, when she had even a moment of stillness. Her mind always wandered back to him.

And, unfortunately, to her.

Katy.

Even thinking about her name made Aurora’s stomach twist. She kept replaying that Halloween night in her mind — Harry’s drunk text, how unexpectedly adorable it had been. Until, of course, he mentioned her. Since then, Aurora had been desperate to figure out who Katy was. 

Or more specifically, what she meant to him.

She couldn’t exactly ask Charlotte without raising suspicion, but that didn’t stop her from trying subtle tactics. Like the time she’d casually mentioned her younger brother’s imaginary new girlfriend, Katy, just to gauge Charlotte’s reaction. There had been nothing in response — no flicker of recognition, no lead.

A ridiculous part of her hoped it had been a fluke — a one-time mention, a meaningless name. But if it wasn’t. . . well, it wasn’t like it actually concerned her. She had no right to feel jealous, and she knew how bizarre it was that she did. Everything she felt for Harry was one-sided. 

And besides, she shouldn’t be feeling anything for him in the first place.

But it was so, so hard. Especially when he checked in on her from time to time, through text or through Charlotte. Always sweet, always reserved. Never pushing past the surface. She’d give him some generic “Just busy with school, but otherwise good!” and that would be that.

Aurora knew he was just being polite, only looking out for her since she was across the country without family. But a tiny, reckless part of her couldn’t help but wonder: was there even the smallest part of him that felt something for her, too?

The rest of the car ride was filled with music and snacks, Charlotte only lowering the volume when they were fifteen minutes out to give Aurora a historical tour of her town — which mostly consisted of pointing out her elementary school, the outlet mall, and the house of the boy she lost her virginity to.

Still, Aurora soaked it all in, genuinely interested.

To no one’s surprise, Charlotte lived in a gated community. The road leading up to her house was winding, lined with towering trees and bursts of fall foliage. Even in late November, with some of them bare, the view was breathtaking. Reds and yellows still clung to a few stubborn branches, and fallen leaves drifted into the reservoir that stretched alongside the road.

“Charlotte,” Aurora gaped. “This looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.”

Charlotte beamed. “You like it?”

“I think I might just stay here forever.”

“You totally can,” Charlotte said it easily, and Aurora knew she meant it. “Mi casa es su casa! And I’m sure my dad wouldn’t mind, either. He loves you. And even though he swears he doesn’t, I think he gets lonely sometimes.”

Aurora swallowed, forcing a smile. She really didn’t need that thought rattling around in her head, especially not this weekend.

Charlotte pulled into the driveway, opting not to go into the garage. “I might see Ben later,” she explained. “No point in parking it all the way in.”

Aurora took her time getting out, drinking in the view of Charlotte’s house — a stunning, modern yet rustic home that somehow managed to be both grand and inviting.

“We can just leave our bags in the car,” Charlotte said. “My dad’s still at work, but he’ll bring them in when he gets back.”

Aurora shot her a deadpan look. “Absolutely not.” She was already reaching into the backseat. “Come get your things, lazy daisy.”

Inside, Aurora tried not to feel ridiculous about how much she was oohing and ahhing. But how could she not? The house was gorgeous — warm, tastefully decorated, and almost suspiciously well-kept for a space occupied by a supposedly single man.

Charlotte led her down the hall. “Guest bedrooms are on the main floor,” she said, stopping at the last door. “There’s a connecting bathroom, so you can leave your stuff and get ready in here. But you’re more than welcome to sleep with me upstairs.”

Aurora set her bags down, then followed Charlotte through the rest of the house.

Halfway through, Charlotte’s phone buzzed. “Ugh,” she groaned. “It’s my dad. He wants me to pick up some things for Thanksgiving prep. Going to the grocery store the day before Thanksgiving should qualify as a form of torture.”

“It’s all good,” Aurora laughed. “I wanted to pick up some things anyway.”

“Perfect. We’ll finish up here and then head out!”

At the store, they split up. Aurora wandered the aisles, picking up ingredients to make empanadas. It was the least she could do to contribute after being welcomed into their home.

Afterward, back at Charlotte’s, they crashed in her room for a nap. When Ben called to say he was home, Charlotte got ready to leave. “Are you sure you’re okay with being alone?”

“Of course,” Aurora reassured her. “I’ll just start on the empanadas.”

And that was how she found herself alone in Charlotte’s childhood kitchen at 7:00 P.M., rolling dough while nodding along to a Weezer album. Cooking had always been her safe space. She knew her way around a kitchen, and felt comfortable in the rhythm of it.

So comfortable, in fact, that she didn’t even hear the front door open.

Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps approaching.

Didn’t notice anything, actually, until she heard his voice.

“Aurora.”

That deep, unmistakable voice.

She froze, rolling pin hovering mid-air.

“What a pleasant surprise.”

Part Ten

————— ୨୧ —————

if you would like to share your thoughts on this chapter, i would love to read them! it always warms my heart to hear from you — thank you so much for being here :') click here to share your thoughts, ask questions, or simply say hello! 💖

Tag List: (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda @femalestyles @boom-shaka-la @mrswidowjohansson @gigglingstyles @tobegoodisgood @fruity-harry

[softonstyles]

Part Eight

Part Seven

A/N: part eight is here 🥳 this chapter is on the shorter side, so you know what that means — the next part will be released shortly :’)

Word Count: 1.1K

Aurora scraped the last stubborn bits of pumpkin guts from the hollowed-out shell, her fingers sticky and patience thinning. The kitchen was quiet except for the muffled sound of Halloween music drifting in from the living room and the occasional plop of seeds hitting the bowl. She glanced at the clock — 7:30 P.M. Charlotte had been getting ready in her room for what felt like an eternity.

Just as Aurora started carving a crooked grin into her pumpkin, Charlotte breezed into the kitchen, her costume toeing the line between playful and flirty. The black dress hugged her curves, and her glittering witch hat sat at a jaunty angle. “How do I look?” she asked, twirling.

“Wicked.”

Charlotte laughed. “You’re such a grandma for staying in tonight. Come on, at least come to the pregame with me.”

“I’m perfectly happy here with my pumpkin and Twitches, thank you very much.”

After spending every waking moment the past week studying for a grueling anatomy exam, a quiet night in sounded like paradise.

Charlotte’s FaceTime ringtone cut through the room.

“Your phone’s ringing,” Aurora called out.

“Oh,” Charlotte said, reaching for it. “It’s my dad.”

Aurora’s knife slipped, nearly taking her finger with it. Her heart pounded. She hadn’t seen or heard from Harry in almost two months, but he’d never really left her mind. Sometimes she considered texting him, but what would she even say? How could it not be weird?

She thought distance would make her crush fizzle out. Instead, it had done the opposite. She found herself wondering what he was doing, who he was doing it with. She tried bringing him up around Charlotte, but all she ever got was that he was busy and sent his regards.

“Hey, dad,” Charlotte greeted cheerfully.

“Oh, wow. Look at you, honey,” Harry’s deep voice filled the kitchen. “I hope your costume scares all the boys away.”

Aurora swallowed hard, focusing on her pumpkin, but her hands felt clumsy. Just hearing him made the ache of missing him worse.

“Is that Aurora I see in the background?” Harry’s voice perked up.

Aurora froze.

Charlotte turned the phone toward her. Caught off guard, Aurora glanced up. Harry was reclined on a leather couch, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. His hair was slightly mussed, and God, he looked good.

“Oh, uh – hi, Mr. Styles,” she said, offering an awkward wave.

“Hi, Aurora,” he teased, matching her tone and waving back. “Carving pumpkins tonight?”

“Yep,” she replied, holding up her half-finished jack-o’-lantern. “It’s my big Halloween plan.”

Harry chuckled. “Sounds like a solid night. Much more wholesome than mine, anyway.”

“Oh?” She couldn’t help herself. “What are your plans?”

“Heading to a bar with some friends,” he answered casually, his smile easy.

Charlotte grinned mischievously. “Aurora thinks our apartment is haunted. She’s been hearing ghosts.”

That was true. Between Charlotte’s late-night study sessions elsewhere and Aurora’s preference for solitude, she spent more time alone in the apartment than expected. Strange noises, doors creaking open on their own — it was probably nothing, but still, a part of her still wondered.

“Really?” Harry mused. “Seen any yet, Aurora?”

Aurora rolled her eyes but smiled. “Not yet, but I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Please do,” Harry said. “I’ll bring something to keep them at bay next time I visit.”

Hopefully, that would be soon.

Charlotte ended the call, then grabbed her purse. “Okay, I’m off! See you tomorrow.”

“Have fun,” Aurora said, trying to sound cheerful. But when the door shut behind Charlotte, the apartment felt. . . quieter.

Aurora finished carving her pumpkin, setting it on the windowsill with a flickering candle inside. The glow filled the room, but it didn’t do much to warm the hollow feeling in her chest. She curled up on the couch, Twitches playing, her mind elsewhere.

Harry’s voice. His teasing smile. The way he looked at her through the screen.

And now he was at a bar, probably surrounded by women his age — women who had their lives together. She imagined him laughing with someone, buying her a drink, maybe —

She groaned, shaking her head. Ridiculous. She had no right to feel jealous.

Just as she stood to head to bed, her phone buzzed.

Harry Styles.

Her eyes widened, immediately opening his message.

Harry: Run into any ghosts?

Aurora couldn’t help but giggle. She snapped a picture of her pumpkin and sent it to him.

Aurora: just this one 🎃

His reply was instant.

Harry: Terrifying. You did a great job.

They kept texting, their banter light and effortless. She teased him about his bar plans, and Harry joked he wasn’t as wild as he used to be. She supposed Charlotte had to get it from somewhere. As the messages rolled in, she noticed his words get looser, typos creeping in.

He’s been drinking.

Then came a message that made her pulse quicken.

Harry: Wish you were here

Harry: You d make this place way more fun

Harry: 😞

Before she could respond, her phone buzzed — an incoming call from Harry.

Thumb hovering over the answer button, she hesitated. But she couldn’t do it. She let it go to voicemail, her nerves tangling into knots. A moment later, another text arrived.

Harry: Argh sorry

Harry: Wasa butt-dial, ignore me

Aurora exhaled, heart still racing.

Aurora: no worries! ✨

Harry: I should head home

Harry: Time to[ call it a night

She shook her head, smiling at his typos.

Aurora: that’s not a bad idea

Aurora: do you need help calling a car?

Harry: No thank    you I’m good

Harry: Katy’s giving me a ride hone

Katy?

Who the fuck was Katy?

Her stomach plummeted. The name lingered like a ghost, taunting her.

who’s katy? She wanted to write back. Instead, she settled for a weak:

Aurora: perfect! have a good night

Harry: Ehh

Harry: I’ll try

Harry: You too

She set the phone down, her chest tight. The apartment suddenly felt colder, the flickering candle casting long, lonely shadows.

Her pumpkin grinned at her from the windowsill, mocking her.

The first half of her night had been spent thinking about Harry. Now, all she could think about was Katy. Who she was. What she meant to him. 

Her phone buzzed once more.

Harry: Don’t let the ghosts get you 👻

For once, she wished they would.

Part Nine

————— ୨୧ —————

if you would like to share your thoughts on this chapter, i would love to read them! it always warms my heart to hear from you — thank you so much for being here :') click here to share your thoughts, ask questions, or simply say hello! 💖

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[softonstyles]

Part Seven

Part Six

A/N: still haven't decided what makes me happiest — writing this story, or hearing your feedback. angels, all of you! <3

Word Count: 2.8K

Aurora woke up Sunday morning with the familiar, unwelcome weight of the Sunday scaries pressing down on her chest.

She had tossed and turned all night, her mind refusing to settle. Maybe it was the cocktails from the Latin restaurant, leaving her restless and overheated. Or the nerves clawing at Aurora’s stomach over starting her program tomorrow. But the real culprit — the one she was trying not to think about — was Harry.

It was maddening how he lingered in her thoughts, uninvited yet ever-present. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing him away, but his voice, the way he looked at her —all of it clung to Aurora like a shadow.

With a frustrated sigh, she threw off her blankets and got out of bed before the alarm could go off. Aurora couldn’t lie there any longer, stewing in thoughts she had no business entertaining. She needed to do something, anything, to shake this feeling.

She pulled on a matching workout set, tied her hair into a ponytail, and laced up her running shoes. Maybe a run would help clear her head.

Outside, the morning air was crisp, the streets still hushed. She had always loved this sliver of the day — the calm before the city roared to life, a fleeting pause before reality intruded. 

Aurora stretched quickly on the sidewalk, popped in her headphones, and started at a light jog. Her feet found a steady rhythm, the music drowning out her thoughts.

Until she passed Cozy’s.

Harry.

It was ridiculous. She had known him for all of one weekend, yet he had left an imprint on her. He was unlike anyone she had ever met — anyone she had ever dated.

And that was the problem.

He wasn’t just different. He was off-limits. He was Charlotte’s father, for goodness sake. What kind of friend even contemplated thoughts like this?

Then there was the age gap. Fifteen years separated them — something she had confirmed after his offhand comment about the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Forty-one to her twenty-six. It should’ve felt wrong, strange. But it didn’t. If anything, it made sense in a way she couldn’t explain. Aurora had always been drawn to depth, to wisdom. And Harry embodied both of those things.

Aurora picked up her pace, her jog turning into a sprint. She ran harder, faster, as if she could outrun her thoughts. Brownstones and shop windows blurred past her, her breath coming in ragged bursts.

By the time she slowed, her legs felt like jelly, but at least her mind was quieter — too exhausted to torment her with what-ifs and forbidden desires. The city around her was stirring now, the world waking up. She walked home, stretching out the last moments of peace before reality intruded.

When she returned, the apartment was silent. Charlotte was still asleep. Aurora headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water soothe her muscles and wash away the morning’s chaos. Afterward, she curled up on the couch with a bowl of cereal, pulling up her syllabus for tomorrow’s classes.

Her eyes scanned the screen, but the words blurred as anxiety crept back in. What if she wasn’t good enough for this program? What if she couldn’t keep up with the demands?

The sound of Charlotte’s bedroom door creaking open broke her downward spiral.

Charlotte emerged, hair a mess, eyes still heavy with sleep. She flopped onto the couch beside Aurora with a groan. “Hey,” she mumbled. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Aurora grumbled back, sinking deeper into the couch.

Charlotte squinted at her. “Are you as hungover as me?”

Aurora took in Charlotte’s disheveled state and snorted. “Not really,” she said, standing to grab a glass of water and some Advil. “I mean, I had a little hangxiety this morning, but it’s more about school. I’m freaking out about tomorrow.”

She handed Charlotte the pills and sat back down. Charlotte’s expression softened as she adjusted her position, crossing her legs. “What’s got you so worked up?”

“Everything,” Aurora admitted with a weak laugh.

Charlotte smiled. “Alright, let’s break it down. One thing at a time.”

Despite herself, Aurora smiled back. Charlotte always had a way of cutting through the noise, grounding her when she felt untethered. “Okay. First thing: what if I can’t handle the workload? This is one of the highest-ranked programs in the country.”

Charlotte tilted her head, green eyes steady. “Aurora, you’ve always been the hardest worker I know. You plan everything down to the last detail, and you don’t back down from a challenge. Why would this be any different?”

Aurora bit her lip. “Because it’s not just a challenge. It’s my entire future. If I mess this up. . .”

“You won’t,” Charlotte interjected. “And even if you hit a bump in the road, you’ll figure it out. You always do. And you won’t be alone. You’ve got me.”

Aurora’s smile widened at her friend’s confidence in her. “Thanks, Char. That actually helps.”

“Good,” Charlotte nudged her playfully. “What’s next on your list of worries?”

Aurora hesitated. “Okay, this one’s going to sound a little juvenile.”

“Try me.”

“. . . What if I don’t fit in?” She sighed. “I know it’s stupid to worry about at our big age, but I’m going to be surrounded by people who are probably smarter than me, more experienced —”

“Stop,” Charlotte interrupted, holding up a hand. “First of all, it’s not a stupid thing to worry about. Especially given how you grew up — always moving around, always having to fit into new spaces. Second, I’ve seen you crush debates and write papers that professors probably use as examples for other students. Also, why are you tying intelligence to fitting in? It’s about being yourself, not the smartest. And trust me, people are going to love you.” She smiled, then added, “Not as much as I do, obviously. But still.”

Aurora let out a soft laugh. “You make it sound so simple. . .”

“It is simple,” Charlotte said, reaching over to squeeze Aurora’s hand. “You’re going to do amazing, and I’ll be right here, cheering you on every step of the way.”

Aurora studied her, then asked, “How do you stay so positive? Aren’t you nervous about starting your MBA program tomorrow, too?”

Charlotte shrugged. “Sort of, kind of. . . not really. Can I be honest about something?”

“Anything.”

A slow, mischievous grin spread across Charlotte’s face. “I’m mostly doing this as a buffer before I have to get a real job. I mean, the fact that I even got in was a win. As long as I graduate, I’ll be fine.”

Aurora burst out laughing. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do,” Charlotte said with a wink.

Before Aurora could respond, a knock sounded at the door.

“That must be my dad,” Charlotte said, hoping off the couch.

Aurora’s stomach twisted at the mention of Harry. She nodded, forcing a smile as Charlotte left the room. A moment later, Harry’s deep voice drifted down the hall, greeting his daughter. 

She sank lower into the couch, hoping they wouldn’t come into the living room. To her relief, their voices faded as they moved into Charlotte’s room. It sounded like Harry had brought some things with him. Aurora turned back to her syllabus, but her focus was shot. Her mind was already elsewhere — wondering how the rest of the evening would play out, and if she could get through it without falling even deeper into feelings she shouldn’t have in the first place.

————— ୨୧ —————

By evening, Aurora had regained some of her focus. She had wasted the morning fretting — about school, about Harry — but refused to let the whole day slip away. She spent the afternoon organizing her schedule and browsing recipes, hoping to make something comforting for dinner.

Cooking had always been an escape for her. She loved the focus it required, the way it let her get lost in the process. Growing up, her father had been away often, and her mother worked long hours at a hair salon. When Aurora was old enough, she took on the responsibility of making dinner — a habit that quickly became second nature.

She still remembered the first time she cooked for her family. Her mom had come home late, exhausted and expecting takeout, only to find a homemade meal waiting for her. The shock on her face had been unforgettable — almost as unforgettable as the moment she took her first bite and realized it was actually good. Even Aurora’s notoriously picky younger brother had eaten it without complaint. From that night on, Aurora had made it her mission to have dinner ready whenever she could.

After scanning the groceries they had on hand, she settled on making stuffed shells, one of her favorites. But first, she needed to check if Charlotte and Harry were on board. She made her way to Charlotte’s room and knocked. To no one’s surprise, it was Harry who answered.

Parts of a half-assembled desk chair were scattered across the floor, evidence of a project in progress. Harry looked slightly disheveled, curls sticking to his forehead, and Aurora had to suppress a shiver at how attractive he looked. Meanwhile, Charlotte was sprawled stomach-down on her bed, completely engrossed in whatever was playing on her newly set up TV.

“Aurora,” Harry greeted, slightly out of breath. “To what do we owe the pleasure? Looking for my very busy daughter?” He glanced back at Charlotte, who waved back absently without looking up.

Aurora laughed. “Sort of. I was actually checking in about dinner.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, like the thought of food had only just occurred to him. “I’ve been so caught up assembling things that I completely forgot about eating. Let me grab my phone and order something —”

“No need, Mr. Styles,” Aurora softly interrupted. “I was hoping to cook tonight. Just wanted to make sure my idea works for everyone.”

Harry’s brows lifted, his expression shifting into something amused and intrigued. Leaning casually against the doorway, he crossed his arms, the movement making his biceps strain against the thin fabric of his shirt. “Oh, you cook?”

Charlotte chimed in without looking up. “Does she ever. And it’s amazing.”

Aurora grinned, meeting Harry’s interested gaze. 

His smirk deepened. “Well, in that case, I’ll leave it in your capable hands.”

“No allergies or restrictions?”

“None.”

————— ୨୧ —————

An hour later, the three of them sat around the dining table, the air rich with the scent of savory tomato sauce and melted ricotta. Harry and Charlotte both praised her cooking, their compliments warm and genuine.

“This is amazing,” Harry said, his voice laced with approval. “You weren’t kidding, Charlotte.”

“See?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows over her wine glass, shooting him a knowing look.

Aurora ducked her head, willing herself to ignore the way her heart fluttered whenever Harry spoke. “I’m glad you both like it.”

They took their time with the meal, sipping wine and trading stories, but the moment broke when Harry’s phone buzzed against the table. He glanced at the screen and sighed.

“Work?” Charlotte guessed.

Harry nodded. “I’ll be quick. Excuse me,” he stood from the table, leaving Aurora and Charlotte alone.

Charlotte leaned back with a sigh. “Ugh, flashbacks to my childhood. He would work around the clock nonstop when I was a kid.”

Aurora gathered their empty plates. “You’ve mentioned that in the past. It must have been really hard not having him around often.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte said. “He missed a lot of recitals, left dinners early — stuff like that. But after my mom passed, he really tried. Cut back on work, did group therapy with me — the whole nine yards.”

Aurora paused. “Group therapy?”

“Oh, it was awful,” Charlotte laughed. “I was thirteen and had just gotten my first period. That was the focus of our first session.”

Aurora chuckled, easily picturing a young Charlotte mortified in front of a therapist. “I can see why that was scarring.”

“Funny now,” Charlotte said. “But back then? Traumatizing.” Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a FaceTime call. “Oh, it’s Ben. Mind if I take this?”

“Of course not,” Aurora assured her. “Go.”

Charlotte disappeared into her room, leaving Aurora to finish cleaning up. She was nearly done when Harry reappeared, his voice apologetic behind her. 

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Turned out it wasn’t even urgent.”

Aurora glanced over her shoulder. “No worries.”

Harry stepped closer, placing their empty wine glasses in the sink. His fingers brushed hers, and her breath caught.

“Thank you for dinner,” he said softly. “It was wonderful.”

Aurora smiled, trying to steady her heartbeat. “You’re welcome. You’ve been such a big help this weekend — I figured it was the least I could do.”

Harry leaned against the counter beside her. “You really don’t have to thank me. If you ever need anything, just ask. I know you’re far from family here, and I’d be more than happy to help.”

Before she could respond, he picked up her phone from the table, held it up for her to unlock, and quickly added his contact information. “There,” he said, handing it back. “Now you have no excuses.”

Aurora stared at the screen, her heart pounding. Having his number felt. . . dangerous. But she managed a smile. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” he said, his voice rich with meaning.

Her cheeks burned, thinking back to when he called her a good girl, affecting her now as much as it did then. It distracted her from realizing that Harry had retrieved her desk from the living room, insisting on carrying it to her bedroom. She followed him, breathless as they maneuvered it into place. 

Standing in her room for the first time, Harry glanced around, taking in the space.

“It’s cozy,” he smiled. “I like it.”

“Thank you,” Aurora replied, feeling shy. “I wanted it to feel like home.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded.” His gaze lingered on her, soft and appreciative, before he checked his watch and straightened. Sighing, he added, “Speaking of home, I should probably get going. Early meeting tomorrow, and I’ve got a long drive.”

Aurora followed him out as he knocked on Charlotte’s door to let her know he was leaving.

“Before I go, I have something for you both.” Harry reached for a small tote bag by the entryway and pulled out two crewnecks.

Charlotte perked up immediately. “Is this your way of making up for leaving so soon?”

Harry just shook his head, holding up the first crewneck — a deep burgundy with their school letters printed across the back. “This one’s for you, Char. Thought you’d like something fashionable. Already washed it in my hotel room.”

Charlotte grinned as she peeled  it from his hands. “So cute! Thanks, dad.”

Then Harry turned to Aurora, holding out the second crewneck. It was the same burgundy shade but with the school’s logo printed on the chest. “And this one’s for you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“For me?” Aurora blinked, caught off guard.

He nodded. “Saw it at the local gift store and thought of you. Looked like something you’d wear.”

Hesitantly, she took it, her fingers grazing his. The fabric was softer than she expected, carrying a faint scent of fresh laundry — of him. “You don’t have to. . .” she started, but her words trailed off.

“I wanted to,” he insisted. “Just a little something to keep you warm during all those late nights in the library.”

“Wow, favoritism,” Charlotte teased. “Mine’s just got letters, and hers has a full logo. What gives?”

Harry chuckled. “Yours is stylish. Hers is practical. Everybody wins.”

Aurora pressed the crewneck to her chest. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. This was really kind of you.”

Harry nodded, sending a small smile her way before stepping back toward the door. “Alright then, I’ll see you both soon. Don’t stay up too late, and good luck on your first day of classes tomorrow.”

Charlotte waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Love you, bye, dad.”

Aurora followed them to the door, trailing behind Charlotte as she opened it for him. Harry hesitated for a brief moment, his gaze settling on Aurora — just a second longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, ladies,” he said, his voice softer now.

“Night,” Aurora murmured, clutching the sweatshirt a little tighter.

As the door shut, Charlotte turned to her. “How sweet. He’s just the best, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Aurora nodded, her voice far away. “He really is.”

Part Eight

————— ୨୧ —————

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[softonstyles]

Part Six

Part Five

A/N: part six is here! i can't wait for everything i have planned to unfold for you all :) thank you so much for reading - as always, i love to hear from you, so feel free to reach out with your thoughts <3

Word Count: 2.3K

The restaurant was just as Charlotte had described — refined, intimate, and undeniably alluring.

Soft candle light flickered on every table, casting warm golden hues over polished wood and plush velvet seating. In the far corner, a live band played Cumbia; the rhythmic beat of the percussion weaving seamlessly with the low murmur of conversation. The music pulled at something deep in Aurora’s chest, pulling her back to vibrant childhood summers in Cartagena.

Aurora’s parents hadn’t been able to afford childcare during school breaks, so she and her brother were sent to the northern coast of Colombia to stay with their grandparents. Those summers were etched into her memory — the thick coastal air, the sun-drenched streets bursting with color, the unshakable sense of belonging she felt there. 

Something she could never quite guarantee in the States.

The host led them to a corner table tucked near the back of the dining room. He pulled out Charlotte’s chair, while Harry, ever the gentleman, did the same for Aurora. She murmured a quiet thank you, her voice barely audible beneath the gentle hum of the restaurant, before taking a seat.

Aurora and Charlotte sat next to one another, and Harry directly across from them.

Or rather, directly across from Aurora.

“Camarones al ajillo,” Harry read aloud, his tone thoughtful. “I know camarones are shrimp, but what’s ajillo?”

“Right?” Charlotte added. “Some of these don’t have descriptions. What if I end up ordering something I don’t like?”

Aurora lifted her gaze from the menu. “Ajillo means garlic. It’s shrimp cooked in a garlic sauce, usually served with rice or plantains.” She turned to Charlotte, voice softening. “Need help with anything else on the menu?”

Charlotte shook her head, but Harry’s attention stayed on Aurora. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I do,” she nodded. “My family’s from Colombia.”

“Cool, right?” Charlotte beamed.

“Very,” Harry agreed. “Colombia is beautiful. Do you visit often?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Aurora admitted. “But I spent every summer there as a kid.”

Harry leaned back slightly, as if picturing it. The weight of his gaze made Aurora reach for her glass of water, an unspoken need to break the moment.

The waiter arrived then, ready for their drink orders. Charlotte chose the house sangria, while Aurora ordered an Aperol Spritz.

“And for you, sir?” the waiter asked Harry.

“I’ll have what she’s having,” Harry responded without hesitation, his eyes never leaving Aurora’s.

A simple gesture, yet it resonated deeply with Aurora — a feeling that Harry had given her something just for them, a private connection in the midst of all the noise. She could have been reading too much into it, but the way his eyes had been following her all night made Aurora think otherwise.

“So,” Harry began, “Charlotte tells me you’re starting a doctorate program.”

“I am,” Aurora nodded. “I start on Monday, the same day as Charlotte.”

“A doctorate,” Harry echoed, clearly impressed. “That’s incredible. You should be proud.”

A blush warmed Aurora’s cheeks. “Thank you, but it’s nothing big — just in physical therapy, which isn’t, like, medical school or anything.”

“Oh, stop,” Charlotte interjected with a dramatic wave of her hand. “She’s going to be a doctor of osteotherapy. Don’t let her fool you, Dad — Aurora’s insanely smart.”

“She hasn’t fooled me. I can see that.”

Wow.

Aurora let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re both being too nice. Honestly, anyone could have gotten into the program.”

“Anyone isn’t you, Aurora.” 

Before she could respond to his firm statement, the waiter returned with their drinks. “To Aurora,” Harry said, lifting his glass, “for starting her doctorate.”

Then he turned to Charlotte, a look of adoration on his face. “And to my darling Charlotte, for starting her MBA. I’m proud of you both.”

Charlotte clinked her glass against theirs, her smile wide and full of life. “Cheers to us!”

They raised their glasses and took a sip — Charlotte’s head back toward the ceiling, Aurora’s eyes shifting toward Harry, and Harry’s staying firmly on hers.

————— ୨୧ —————

An hour later, their plates were nearly clean, only crumbs and smears of sauce marking the remnants of meals that had been savored. Aurora reclined in her chair, a pleasant warmth flowing through her body — a mixture of expertly made cocktails and the surprising ease of the evening. The night had turned out far better than she had expected sitting across from Harry, and the tension from earlier now seemed almost laughable.

But the truth was, with Harry, relaxation never came easily. There was something about him — an unspoken authority, a calm confidence that made every moment more intense. His presence made her second-guess everything, each thought measured, every word scrutinized. And when she finally did speak, a nagging doubt would remain, wondering if her words had been wrong or misplaced. It was frustrating, the way his opinion held such weight. 

Yet, every time they conversed, her nerves unraveled beneath the weight of his sincerity. His composure wasn’t just natural; it was paired with an attentiveness that made every exchange feel significant. There was no escaping its weight, and the worst part? He probably had no idea how much it affected her.

The cocktails certainly helped smooth the edges of that awareness.

Aurora swirled the last sip of Aperol Spritz in her glass, its citrusy aroma mingling with the muted symphony of voices drifting through the room. Beside her, Charlotte’s chair pushed back from the table as she stood, voice light with tipsiness.

“Bathroom break,” she announced. “Don’t talk about anything fun while I’m gone!”

As Charlotte disappeared into the crowd, silence settled between Aurora and Harry. Awareness sharpened. For the first time all evening, they were alone.

“How was dinner?” The question came in that relaxed, steady way of his.

Aurora finished the last bite of rice and reached for a napkin before answering. “The chicken stew was incredible. Easily one of the best I’ve had in years.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Harry said, a pleased smile on his face.

“What about yours?” She nodded toward his plate. “The shrimp looked delicious.”

“It was,” he answered. Then, without hesitation, he leaned forward, offering a piece on his fork. “Want to try?”

She felt a brief flare of nerves, but the heat of her second drink helped Aurora relax and let go.

Why not?

Leaning in, Aurora’s lips brushed the edge of the fork as she took a bite. Tender shrimp, buttery and rich with garlic, melted on her tongue. Across the table, Harry’s movements stilled.

“Mm,” she murmured, savoring the flavor. “You were right. Delicious.”

A decision settled in her mind at that moment.

If Harry wanted to play, she was game.

He parted his lips as if to reply, but no words came. For the first time, it felt like she had caught him off guard, just as he so often did to her. 

The realization was tantalizing.

With deliberate care, Aurora reached for a napkin, dabbing at her lips. “Sorry,” she said lightly, allowing the moment to linger. “That was a little messy.” To punctuate her point, she retrieved a lipstick and compact mirror from her purse. The case clicked open, and she took her time, reapplying with slow, precise strokes. 

Aurora didn’t need to look up to know Harry was watching.

Before the moment could stretch any further, Charlotte returned, her voice bright and bubbling with excitement. “Ugh, I love this beat!” She grabbed Aurora’s hand, practically bouncing in place. “C’mon, let’s dance.”

Charlotte tugged Aurora toward the small dance floor near the live band, laughter spilling from them as the lively rhythm of Cumbia filled the space. The music was a time machine, transporting Aurora back to childhood nights spent at family parties, where older relatives had taught her everything from salsa to merengue. Muscle memory took over, the steps returning with ease.

Taking the lead, she guided Charlotte through the steps, her movements fluid, effortless. Charlotte, always quick on her feet, followed with surprising grace. They spun, twirled, their laughter blending with the music until nothing else existed but the beat beneath their feet.

It had been so long since Aurora had let herself enjoy a moment like this. The past two years had been a blur of long hours and sacrifice, every spare dollar funneled into her doctorate program. Nights out had been rare, indulgence kept at arm’s length. But here, under the glow of candlelight, surrounded by music and the easy joy of movement, she felt something stir — something that had been buried beneath responsibility and restraint.

This wasn’t just a night out. It was a glimpse of the person she used to be. Someone who danced. Someone who laughed. Someone who allowed herself to simply feel.

The shift happened so quickly, she barely had time to register it. One moment, she was spinning Charlotte, their laughter cutting through the din of the restaurant. The next, Charlotte was whisked away by a stranger bold enough to step in.

Instinct sent Aurora’s gaze to her friend, searching for any sign of discomfort, but Charlotte was already flashing a mischievous grin — equal parts approval and amusement — before turning her attention to the newcomer. Aurora smirked, rolling her eyes as she drifted toward the edge of the floor, still moving with the beat.

The band transitioned into a vibrant salsa, one of her favorites. The music took hold, guiding her movements, hips swaying with flowing rhythm. Each step was fluid, curls bouncing as she spun, lost in the pure exhilaration of it all. But on one particular turn, her gaze landed on their table.

Harry was watching.

The expression on his face wasn’t just appreciative — it was transfixed. Admiration flickered behind his gaze, but beneath it lay something deeper, something that sent a slow wave of heat coursing through her. The soft pull of a smile at the corner of his mouth was enough to make her breath hitch, but it was the way his green eyes held her — sharp, intent — that truly unraveled Aurora.

So she leaned into it.

The next turn came with deliberate precision, hips moving with a touch more purpose, hands grazing the curve of her waist before sliding up into the wild mess of curls. It was playful, teasing — meant for no one but herself.

And if Harry happened to enjoy the view?

Well, that was just a fortunate side effect.

The song ended, and Charlotte was back at Aurora’s side before she could catch her breath. “Wasn’t that fun?”

A little too much, but Aurora only smiled. “Very.”

“Guess what? That guy asked for my number.”

Aurora laughed, tilting her head. “And?”

“Did you see his face?” Charlotte wiggled her brows.

A knowing look passed between them before Aurora arched hers. “And what about Ben? I thought you liked him.”

“I do, I do!” Charlotte insisted. “But it’s not official. At least not yet. Besides, this guy works nearby.”

“Charlotte!” Aurora gasped, feigning scandal. “Don’t be a cad. You have a good thing going with Ben.”

“Don’t start.” Charlotte stuck out her tongue.

As they reached the table, Harry looked up, eyes flickering between them. “You two seemed to be having a good time out there.”

Charlotte grinned, brushing a stray hair from her face. “That was nothing compared to our college days. Aurora can be a total party animal when she lets loose —”

“Charlotte,” Aurora warned. “That’s not true. She’s exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Charlotte teased, lifting her empty glass and frowning. “Shoot. I need another drink.”

Before she could flag the waiter, Harry cut in smoothly. “I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight,” he said, then turned to Aurora with a pointed look. “Both of you.”

The car ride back to the apartment was quieter, yet the tension between them remained in the air. Aurora rested her head against the cool window, glancing over at Harry each time he shifted in his seat. His profile was captivating — impossibly handsome, with a calm steadiness in the way his hands gripped the wheel. The soft glow from the dashboard lights highlighted his sharp features, and she found herself wondering what it would feel like to reach out and trace her fingers along his jaw.

She didn’t bother hiding the way she watched him; two drinks in, her inhibitions had all but vanished.

When they arrived at their apartment, Charlotte practically jumped out of the car, mumbling something about needing the bathroom again. Aurora lingered behind, struggling to unfasten her seat belt.

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Styles,” Aurora said softly, her voice carrying a feeling she hoped wasn’t too noticeable.

“I’m glad you came,” Harry turned slightly, meeting her gaze. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” Aurora replied, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A lot.”

She tried again to unbuckle her seat belt, but the latch refused to cooperate. Aurora kept her eyes on Harry as she laughed nervously. “Is this seat belt always this tricky?”

Harry leaned over, his arm brushing against hers as he easily released the buckle. The warm, woodsy scent of his cologne filled the space between them, and her breath caught. Their eyes locked, the distance between them suddenly both too small and yet impossibly large.

“There you go,” he said, voice low and almost teasing.

His gaze stilled, and for a beat, it felt like time itself had slowed. 

“Come on, Aurora!” Charlotte’s voice broke the spell, and Aurora blinked, reluctantly pulling her eyes away as she reached for the door handle.

“Drive safe,” she murmured, heart still racing.

Harry smiled faintly. “Have a good night, Aurora.”

As she stepped out of the car, the fresh night air hit her, but it did little to cool the heat pooling in her chest. She glanced back one last time, meeting Harry’s curious green eyes through the window.

Aurora was, without a doubt, in way over her head. 

And heart.

Part Seven

————— ୨୧ —————

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[softonstyles]

Part Five

Part Four

A/N: another slow burn, but i promise it'll be worth the wait ;) always happy to hear your thoughts, please don't hesitate to share them <3

Word Count: 1.3K

“Now, look straight ahead — right at my breasts.”

Aurora obeyed, leveling her gaze with Charlotte’s chest. But the shimmer of body glitter dusted across Charlotte’s decolletage caught the light, causing Aurora to squint instinctively.

“Careful!” Charlotte warned. “I don’t want to mess up your wing.”

“I’m trying,” Aurora muttered.

“Try harder.”

Aurora stilled, leaning back in the chair to avoid the glare from Charlotte’s vanity lights. In the middle of their dinner preparations, Charlotte had enthusiastically offered to do her makeup. At first, Aurora hesitated, preferring her usual natural look over Charlotte’s bolder style. But as always, Charlotte had a way of wearing her down.

Her back had been turned to the mirror since they started, leaving Aurora both apprehensive and intrigued about the final result.

“And. . .” Charlotte murmured, her tone serious with concentration. “Finito! Done. Wait, is ‘finito’ Spanish or Italian?”

Aurora swiveled to face the mirror — and froze. The reflection staring back at her was strikingly different from the one she was used to. Sultrier. 

And undeniably alluring.

“You made me look amazing,” she breathed, bringing a hand to her flushed cheeks. “And Italian — at least the way you used it.”

Charlotte grinned, basking in the compliment. “You achieve that effortlessly on your own,” she replied. “And shit, I need to get better if I plan on flirting with any of the staff tonight.”

Aurora met Charlotte’s gaze in the mirror and smiled, genuinely touched. “Thanks for this, Char. You really didn’t have to.”

“Are you kidding?” Charlotte scoffed, moving closer and resting her hands lightly on Aurora’s shoulders. “Anything for my Biggie. Plus, your baby skin is made for makeup. I’ve been dying to practice on you.”

Aurora chuckled before turning her attention to her hair, smoothing back any stray pieces and adjusting the sleek bun that complemented the sultry cat-eye Charlotte had meticulously crafted. Once satisfied, she stood and crossed the room to where her dress lay on the bed. She had originally planned to wear something simple, more understated. But Charlotte had swiftly vetoed that idea after a deep dive into TikTok reviews of the restaurant.

“It’s got a sexy vibe,” she’d declared. “Live music, intimate lighting. That sort of thing. Trust me.”

Now, as Aurora slipped into the wine-colored dress — its elegant boat neckline skimming her collarbone, its modest slit hinting at just enough — she couldn’t help but second guess herself. The sheer black stockings accentuated the length of her legs, making the entire ensemble feel. . . daring.

Aurora adjusted her earrings, catching her reflection once more. She looked powerful. And slightly out of her depth.

“This isn’t too much, right?” Aurora asked, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “I mean. . . it’s just dinner.”

Charlotte furrowed her brows, scanning Aurora’s outfit from different angles. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we look fantastic,” Aurora started, running her hands over the dress she had splurged on for her twenty-fifth birthday. “But shouldn’t we save outfits like this for bigger occasions? Birthdays, engagement parties. . . something more special?”

Charlotte stilled, her eyes locking onto Aurora’s in the mirror.

“Aurora,” she said, voice softer now. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, and God, sometimes I swear there isn’t much — it’s that we can’t keep saving our favorite dresses for only special moments.” A pause. Then, quieter, “Do you know what I mean by that? Because there’s no guarantee we’ll see the next one.” Her eyes drifted, thoughts elsewhere.

Aurora knew where.

“So instead of waiting for special moments, we should make every moment special.”

Aurora smiled, genuinely touched by Charlotte’s words. Beneath her carefree exterior, Charlotte carried a quiet wisdom — an old soul wrapped in a young, impulsive spirit.

And, in true Charlotte fashion, she couldn’t resist adding, “Plus, we’re only this young and hot once!”

————— ୨୧ —————

Aurora was adjusting the strap of her black mesh kitten heel when she felt it — that unmistakable shift in the air. Her fingers stilled just as Harry appeared in the doorway.

His gaze swept over, slow and assessing, before settling on her eyes.

“Aurora,” Harry began, like he was saying her name for the first time. He exhaled softly. “You look. . . stunning.”

Before she could even process the compliment, Charlotte came striding down the hall, a black jacket slung over one shoulder. “Let’s go, guys!”

Aurora looped her arm through Charlotte’s as they made their way down the narrow staircase of the three-story walk-up, trailing just behind Harry. Outside, his sleek black Mercedes idled at the curb, its hazard lights casting rhythmic flashes against the pavement. As they approached, Harry stepped ahead and opened the passenger door.

“Oh,” Aurora hesitated. “That’s okay, Charlotte can sit up front.”

Charlotte scoffed, already reaching for the back door. “Not a chance. Guests always get shotgun.”

Harry turned to Aurora, a slow grin curving his lips. “Guests always get shotgun.”

Heat bloomed across her cheeks as she gave a flustered shake of her head. “Thank you,” she murmured before ducking into the seat.

Aurora settled into the plush leather, fingers tracing the cool surface as she watched him circle around the car. He slid into the driver’s seat with ease, starting the engine in one smooth motion before holding out his phone.

“You’re in charge,” he said, his tone light but laced with something teasing. Then, God help her — he winked.

Aurora swallowed hard, willing herself to stay composed as she took the phone with slightly unsteady hands. She opened his Spotify and bit back a smile as she scanned his recently played songs. Her heart gave a small, traitorous leap when she recognized most of them.

After a brief moment of deliberation, she selected Something in the Way by Nirvana. The haunting melody filled the cabin, low and hypnotic. 

“Solid choice,” Harry murmured, his voice rich with approval. He didn’t reach for his phone, leaving it resting in her lap as if he trusted her implicitly.

The city lights blurred past the windows, streaks of gold and red against the night. Aurora stole glances at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. The black silk of his shirt caught the glow of passing streetlights, and her breathing nearly stopped when she caught the faintest glimpse of ink peeking from his undone collar.

Harry remained focused on the road, his profile calm, commanding. One hand rested lazily on the wheel, steering with a grace that made her stomach twist in ways she didn’t dare name.

How could someone look so devastatingly good without even trying?

And worse — how was she supposed to just sit here, inches away, and pretend to not notice?

Her thoughts spiraled before she could stop them.

What if Charlotte weren’t in the backseat?

What if Harry were taking her out, just the two of them?

What if he said her name the way he had in the doorway, but softer, just for her?

Aurora blinked hard, snapping out of her lust-filled thoughts just as the car slowed in front of the restaurant. Harry shifted into park, handed his keys to valet, and stepped out.

She watched him move — unhurried, composed — as he came around to her side. The door opened.

“Ladies.” His voice was smooth, smile easy as he offered an arm to both Aurora and Charlotte.

Aurora exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Let the night begin.

Part Six

————— ୨୧ —————

Tag List (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr @batmanwoman8 @cherrywinerare @hannah9921 @xoxmatilda

[softonstyles]

Part Four

Part Three

A/N: wow - i've been having the BEST time writing this story! and even more, i've loved interacting and hearing feedback from some of you :') i have so much in store for this story and am always so appreciative of your thoughts, so please keep them coming! thank you, thank you <3 (P.S. this part is on the shorter side, which means part five will be released this weekend!)

Word Count: 1.3K

Aurora woke late to sunlight filtering through her curtains in soft, golden streaks. She burrowed deeper into the pillow, reluctant to leave the warmth of sleep, but the muffled sounds of movement in the apartment reminded her the day was already in motion.

The night before had been a blur of laughter and indulgence. She and Charlotte had stayed up late, buzzing with excitement over finally sharing a space again. What started as a late-night grocery run for cookie dough had spiraled into baking at midnight, their impromptu snack devoured as a bad rom-com played in the background. Eventually, The Kissing Booth had lulled them to sleep, both sprawled across Aurora’s bed — the only room with a set up TV.

Now, the aftermath of their night surrounded her. Crumbs littered her nightstand, empty plates stacked haphazardly on top of them. With a groan, she pushed herself upright and ran a hand through her hair before getting to work.

Cleaning had always been Aurora’s way of resetting. She cleared the plates, wiped down the surfaces, and smoothed her sheets until everything was in its place. By the time she was done, the guilt of sleeping in had dulled to a faint hum.

She wrapped herself in a robe, slid into her slippers, and carried the stacked dishes to the kitchen. The oven clock read 11:47 A.M.

That was when she saw it.

A cardboard beverage carrier on the kitchen island. Only one cup remained. Beside it sat a light blue bakery bag, the colors unmistakable.

Cozy’s.

Curious, Aurora stepped closer. She picked up the cup, the condensation cool against her fingertips. As she brought it closer, her brows lifted. No way.

But there it was. 

Her precise drink order. A quick peek inside the bag confirmed the rest — an olive oil bundt cake.

Harry.

A warmth spread through her chest, quiet and insistent. She could still picture him from yesterday — calm, attentive, exuding a natural charm. This only confirmed what she already suspected.

He noticed the little things.

Aurora’s heart fluttered, but she had to push the feeling to the side. Harry was simply being kind. Thoughtfulness was in his nature. Reading into it would be foolish. Dangerous, even — for her, for him, for Charlotte.

But then something else caught her eye.

Her desk.

Fully assembled, standing in the corner, its cherrywood finish gleaming in the morning light. Aurora blinked, stepping closer, as if making sure she wasn’t still half-asleep. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface, marveling at the craftsmanship.

“Do you like it?”

She turned to find Harry leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

He looked like a dream.

She had to be sure he wasn’t.

Without thinking, Aurora closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around him. “Like it?” she echoed, voice thick with disbelief. “Harry, I love it. Thank you so much.”

His hands found her waist, steady and warm. He leaned into the embrace, his chin grazing the top of her head. The scent of sandalwood and something distinctly him wrapped around her, and Aurora melted into it further before she could even stop herself.

The hug lingered much longer than it should have, but neither of them appeared eager to pull away.

Aurora’s pulse quickened; suddenly, painfully aware of how thin her robe was. Of the even thinner slip beneath it. Of the way her body, particularly her breasts, responded to his nearness.

And of the way his hands hadn’t moved.

Heat bloomed across her skin, and she took a step back, heart hammering. Harry’s grip loosened, but his green eyes stayed on her, searching.

“Sorry,” she murmured, looking everywhere but at him. “I just. . . wanted to thank you properly. For the desk. And breakfast. And — well, everything.”

“What are you saying sorry for?” His gaze flickered, voice dropping slightly. “Your appreciation isn’t lost on me.”

Oh.

Oh.

Was he teasing? Flirting? She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and the air between them grew thick with something charged, something electric.

Finally, Harry cleared his throat, stepping back with an easy smile. “It was no trouble,” he said. “I didn’t want to wake you, so I set it up out here.”

“Thanks for that,” Aurora replied, grateful to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I don’t usually sleep in this late, but Charlotte and I were up until, like, three.”

Harry laughed, the sound deep and infectious. “She’s already being a bad influence on you, huh?”

Aurora laughed, too. More like the other way around, she thought, but let the comment slide.

His composure returned as he nodded toward the hallway. “I’m helping Charlotte with a few things in her room now, but after that, I’ll finish the living room TV set up.”

Aurora nodded. “That sounds good. Just let me know if you need any help.”

“Will do,” Harry said, voice dipping slightly. Then, after a beat, “And if you need anything, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

It was phrased as a question, but she knew better.

“Yes,” Aurora answered softly.

He smiled. “Good girl.”

Aurora froze. Her eyes immediately darted to his, searching for signs of mischief. But his expression remained perfectly calm, as if he hadn’t just said something to make her pulse skyrocket.

Then, with one last devastating smile, he turned and walked back toward Charlotte’s room.

Had he really just said that?

And worse — had it really just turned her on?

————— ୨୧ —————

Later that afternoon, after running a few errands, Aurora returned to the apartment to find the living room in complete disarray. Tools were scattered across the floor, instructions lay discarded on the coffee table, and in the center of it all, Harry and Charlotte were knee-deep in assembling a new television console.

“Perfect timing,” Charlotte called, flashing Aurora a deep grin. “We need an extra set of hands.”

Aurora hesitated, unsure if she trusted herself to be around Harry after this morning — especially not with Charlotte in the room. But when he glanced up, his eyes met hers, steady and unreadable. No teasing, no lingering tension. Just the calm presence that always seemed to disarm her.

“Sure,” she answered finally. “Let me just put my things away first.”

Five minutes later, Aurora settled onto the living room floor with them, doing her best to focus on the task at hand. But her attention betrayed her. Every now and then, her eyes drifted to Harry — the way his sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms. The easy way he handled the tools, the quiet way he chuckled at something Charlotte said. Even the low timbre of his voice when he asked Aurora to pass him a screwdriver sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

The girl was a goner.

When they finished, Charlotte flopped onto the couch with a triumphant sigh.

“By the way,” she announced, stretching her arms overhead, “I’m way too exhausted after all this building to cook, so we’re going out to dinner tonight.”

Aurora arched her brow. “You wouldn’t have cooked anything anyway.”

“This is true,” Charlotte admitted, grinning.

Aurora and Harry exchanged an amused look, shaking their heads at Charlotte’s theatrics.

“I made reservations at a Latin restaurant for eight,” Harry said, glancing at his watch. “Which, as it turns out, isn’t too far from now.”

Charlotte perked up instantly. “Perfect. I could use a margarita the size of my face after all this.” She turned to Aurora with a mischievous grin. “Vámonos, chica! Time to get all dolled up.”

Aurora started to stand but hesitated, glancing at Harry. “But we haven’t put the TV on the console yet.”

“I’ll take care of the rest,” Harry assured her.

She opened her mouth to protest, but he reached out, resting a hand over hers — just for a second, but enough to still her.

“Go on,” he said softly. “I’ve got it covered.”

The feeling of his touch remained even after he pulled away, heat curling beneath her skin.

Charlotte, oblivious to the moment, scrambled to her feet, newfound excitement replacing her previous exhaustion. “Don’t have to tell us twice,” she sang, grabbing Aurora’s hand and pulling her toward the bedroom. “We’ll be ready in an hour!”

Part Five

————— ୨୧ —————

Tag List (thank you all for tuning in - please let me know if you would like to be added/removed from this list): @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712 @br3akfestattiffanys @amazinglystyles @harryyloverrr

[softonstyles]

Hey sorry to be a bother but could you add a word count to your posts? Just want to know how much time to dedicate to read

aw, you're no bother at all! sure thing - i just updated each part to include a word count and will continue this moving forward :)

[softonstyles]

Part Three

(Part Two)

Word Count: 2.4K

Aurora had lost track of time, tucked away in her room for what must have been three, maybe four hours. It wasn’t her proudest moment, but after the mortifying interaction she had earlier, creating distance (no matter how insignificant) seemed like the only practical solution. She threw herself into unpacking (her least favorite task) and, for a while, even made good progress.

Until her thoughts drifted back to him.

To their first encounter at the coffee shop. The way he leaned in to hand her the pastry bag. The shift in his eyes when she called him Mr. Styles.

And just like that, Aurora was distracted; absentmindedly tucking books into her clothing drawer, completely losing track of what she was supposed to be doing.

Mr. Styles.

As in Charlotte Styles’, her good friend’s father.

She groaned and set a book (this time on a shelf, where it belonged) with an unintentional thud. It wasn’t just mortifying — it was wrong. She owed it to Charlotte to bury her nefarious thoughts six feet under. 

Whatever had passed between her and Harry at the coffee shop, if anything at all, meant nothing. It was just a fluke. A misfire of neurons.

Her frown deepened as she stepped back to observe the shelf. The books were haphazardly arranged, disregarding her preferred order of genre first, last name second. With a sharp exhale, she pulled them all down and started over.

By the time she finished, her stomach growled in protest. In her unusual state of distress, she had forgotten to eat lunch. Hiding away like this suddenly felt melodramatic, even for her. Enough was enough.

Aurora reached for the door handle, opened it. . . and walked straight into a solid chest. She barely had time to stumble back before a pair of strong hands reached out and steadied her.

“Aurora, hey — sorry about that,” Harry said, his voice gentle with concern. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah,” she managed, blinking up at him. “Totally fine, no worries.”

Harry gave her a once-over, checking for any sign of injury, then smiled when he saw she was unharmed. Aurora found it difficult to ignore the way his hands remained on her, Harry’s touch a quiet current beneath her skin. 

“Guess that’s two for two today, huh?”

Her stomach flipped. He’s talking about the coffee shop. He’s going to bring it up and —

“First your record player, now you.” His grin widened, dimples on full display. “Starting to think I can’t help but orbit around you today.” 

He chuckled, and Aurora felt the corners of her lips twitch, too. It wasn’t just his words — it was the effortless way he delivered them, as if charm came as naturally to him as breathing.

Harry’s hands lingered a moment longer before he finally let go, stepping past her toward the record player in the corner. “Nice collection you’ve got here,” he mused, flipping through the vinyls. “Knew you had good taste when I walked in and heard Stevie. Mind if I take a look?”

Not at all. Take whatever you want — me included.

“Go ahead,” she said instead, keeping her voice steady. “And thanks. Are you into Fleetwood Mac?”

He glanced up, eyes glinting. “I’m into all kinds of things.”

Her breath hitched. A slow warmth crept up her neck, thoughts drifting precisely where she promised herself they wouldn’t, couldn’t go.

Harry, oblivious or simply unbothered, paused on a record. “Is this Californiacation?” He flipped it over, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “This came out my freshman year of high school. Blew it out on cassette all four years.”

Aurora pressed her lips together. Californiacation was one of her favorite albums, and she knew it was released in 1999. 

Do not calculate his age. Do not.

“It’s a classic,” she answered lightly. “Can’t blame you.”

“No, you can’t.” He met her eyes, that teasing, familiar grin softening his features. “Really takes me back.”

Aurora swallowed, forcing herself to break eye contact. “So, uh,” she began, desperate for a shift in focus. “Where’s Charlotte?”

Harry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms with an amused smirk. “Sleeping. Apparently, watching me build her furniture is exhausting work.”

She laughed.

Classic Char.

Aurora could picture it now: Charlotte hovering nearby, doling out unsolicited instructions, more of a distraction than a helper. Later, she’d send him a perfectly crafted thank-you message — sincere, thoughtful, and utterly convinced she’d been supportive.

“Well, lucky her,” Aurora said, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I wish I had you helping me build my stuff, too.”

Harry straightened, his eyebrows rising. “Do you need help with something?”

“Oh, no,” Aurora said quickly, embarrassment flashing across her face. “I didn’t mean —”

“Aurora.” His voice was calm but insistent. “If you need help, just ask. That’s what I’m here for.”

There was something in the way Harry spoke — steady, unwavering — like he was someone who kept every promise.

And maybe even every threat.

“Well. . .” Aurora hesitated, glancing toward the box by the TV. “There is one thing.”

————— ୨୧ —————

An hour later, the dimly lit living room hummed with quiet laughter and the soft scrape of furniture parts against the floor. Aurora sat cross-legged on the couch, carefully assembling a drawer, while Harry stretched out on the hardwood, smoothly working on the base of her desk.

Despite the easy rhythm of their conversation, Aurora felt Monday looming at the edges of her thoughts. She was here, physically engaged in the task at hand, yet Aurora’s mind drifted — deeper and deeper — until she could no longer ignore the familiar weight pressing down on her.

Imposter syndrome had always been a quiet but persistent shadow, trailing her through every important milestone. Every moment of success felt borrowed, as if it belonged to someone else and not her. That relentless inner voice dissected her past with surgical precision, magnifying even the smallest mistakes into towering failures.

She thought of her childhood – of constant moves that uprooted Aurora’s life every few years, friendships left half-formed, relationships fragile. School had been her anchor, the one steady thing in an otherwise uncertain world. But the armor she built from academic success was heavy, and somewhere along the way, her self-worth became inextricably tied to achievement.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice broke through the spiral, soft and curious. “Where’d you go just now?”

Aurora blinked, startled back to the present. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’ve been here, building this drawer.” She held it up as proof, her smile almost defensive. “See?”

Harry gave her a knowing look, his expression warm yet unwavering. “You were somewhere else. I saw it in your eyes.”

Aurora froze, caught off guard by his attentiveness. She hadn’t realized he’d been watching her so closely.

When she didn’t respond, he didn’t press. Instead, Harry shifted gears easily, allowing the moment to dissolve into something lighter. “Well, wherever you went, I hope it was less stressful than this IKEA nightmare.”

She let out a laugh, grateful for the change in topic. “Let’s just say this is the lesser of two evils.”

He tilted his head, studying her for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then he simply said, “I mean, I can see why you put this off. Tackling it alone would’ve been brutal.”

“Oh, definitely,” Aurora rolled her eyes. “I even thought about assembling it at my parents’ house and cramming it into my trunk, but there wasn’t enough room with all my other stuff.”

Harry nodded, focusing on attaching a leg to the desk’s base. “And where exactly is home for you?”

“New Mexico,” she replied, then hesitated. “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of?” He echoed, and if Aurora hadn’t been looking at him, she would have missed the way his nose scrunched in thought. It was so. . . cute, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe that was why she found it easy to keep going.

“My dad was in the military. We moved every two or three years, depending on where he was stationed — mostly all over the West. He was discharged four years ago, and my family moved to New Mexico. I’m pretty sure it’s the longest we’ve ever stayed anywhere.”

“I see.” Harry paused to look at her fully, his expression thoughtful. “That must have been tough on you.”

Aurora shrugged, absently fiddling with a screw. “It was fine, I guess.”

When she didn’t elaborate, Harry raised his eyebrows slightly, encouraging her to continue.

“I mean, it wasn’t terrible,” she admitted. “Frustrating, sure. Always being the new kid, feeling like the odd one out. But it wasn’t unbearable. Some people have it a lot worse.”

She hesitated, gauging his reaction. The conversation had drifted somewhere heavier, somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to go. But Harry seemed invested, like he truly cared about what she had to say.

Aurora wanted to feel his lightness again.

So, with a teasing smile, she added, “Although, it might’ve left me with a deep, abiding hatred of moving.”

He smiled, too. “It’s important to have stability while growing up. At any time, really, but especially as a child. Having a place to call home, roots to grow into. Sounds like you didn’t really get that chance.”

Aurora glanced down at the drawer in her hands, fingers slowing. No one had ever put it quite like that before.

“I guess not,” she murmured. “But you adapt, you know? You figure out how to make it work.”

“Of course,” Harry replied, his tone measured. “And you seem to be doing just fine at that. More than fine, really. Kids are resilient, but that doesn’t make certain things easy. Or fair.”

The weight of his words settled over them, and for the first time that evening, she was reminded of the years between them. There was something in Harry’s tone, something that carried experience — an understanding born from time and reflection.

Still, Harry didn’t let the mood press too hard. With a soft grin, he concluded, “And don’t worry, you’re not the odd one out. Moving’s awful for everyone.”

Aurora grinned in response, about to reply, when Charlotte’s tired “Hey, guys” interrupted the moment.

She turned and found Charlotte mid-yawn, rubbing her eyes. Upon making eye contact with them, Charlotte smiled and waved, as though her prolonged absence were perfectly normal. “Whatcha guys up to?”

“Oh, hey, sleepyhead,” Aurora  teased, gently poking her as Charlotte approached for a hug. She always found Charlotte’s affectionate nature to be sweet, instantly absolving her from any wrongdoings. 

“How did you sleep, darling?” Harry asked, his tone light.

“Just perfectly!” Charlotte declared, settling beside Aurora on the couch. “With my dad and Biggie here, how could I not?”

“Biggie?” Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing at Aurora for clarification.

She mouthed don’t ask, then turned to Charlotte. “Are those your pajamas?”

“Sure are.” Charlotte stretched out, casually draping her legs over Aurora’s lap.

Aurora shook her head, amused. “You look ready to go back to bed.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Charlotte quipped.

“You’ve been a tremendous help today, Char,” Harry said dryly, setting down his tools before rising from his position on the floor.

“Hey, to be fair, it’s that time of the month, and I’m very anemic. You can’t blame me for being  a sleepy girl.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Do you need me to pick up anything before I leave?”

Charlotte, now comfortably settled on the couch in her satin pink pajamas, waved him off. “Thanks, dad, but I should be fine. Plus, Aurora’s always been the mom of the group, so I’m sure whatever I might need, she has me covered.” She gave her a pointed look, which Aurora returned with a knowing nod.

“This is true,” Aurora confirmed.

Harry chuckled. “Right. Anyway, I’ve finished assembling the base and legs, so connecting the finishing pieces tomorrow should be easy enough.”

“Sounds great. Need anything for the road, Mr. Styles?” Aurora asked, carefully moving Charlotte’s legs off her lap.

“No, but maybe you can show me to the door, since my lovely daughter looks ready to pass out again.”

They both glanced at Charlotte, who had already closed her eyes and murmured a faint, “Bye, see you later,” in response.

Classic Char.

Aurora shook her head before leading Harry to the door. As he retrieved his shoes and wallet, an unexpected pang of reluctance tightened in her chest. Aurora had enjoyed his company more than she anticipated and found herself wishing he could stay longer.

“Thank you for all your help today, Mr. Styles,” Aurora said, her voice sincere. “And, no worries about the desk — I should be able to take it from here.”

Harry raised a hand, gently dismissing her offer. “Ah, please. It was no problem. I’ll take care of the rest tomorrow.” He met her gaze, his expression warm. “Besides, I should be the one thanking you. This is Charlotte’s first time truly living on her own, and I won’t lie, I was nervous. For reasons I’m sure you can understand.”

They both shared a knowing laugh.

“But, knowing she has you around puts me at ease,” he added softly.

Her smile widened. “She’s in good hands, I promise.”

“I know she is,” Harry replied, his voice full of quiet certainty.

They stood there for a moment, enjoying a comfortable silence. Neither of them made a move to part ways just yet.

Seeking to prolong the moment, Aurora asked, “Are you driving all the way back home now? It’s about an hour and a half away, right?”

“It is, but I won’t be heading back tonight,” Harry answered. “With it being the tailend of rush hour, traffic would be a nightmare. I’ve booked a hotel about ten minutes away for the weekend, so I’ll be here nice and early tomorrow.”

Aurora nodded. “I have a feeling your definition of ‘bright and early’ differs significantly from Charlotte’s.”

Harry smiled. “I assure you, she didn’t inherit that trait from me.”

The look on his face turned distant for a moment, a small flicker of something bittersweet crossing Harry’s features. It passed quickly, and he refocused on Aurora. “It was truly a pleasure meeting you today, Aurora.”

“Likewise, Mr. Styles,” she replied softly.

They stood there, eyes locked, an unspoken understanding passing between them. The seconds stretched, but the silence was far from uncomfortable; it hummed with muted possibilities — possibilities neither of them could ever act upon.

After a final moment, Harry cleared his throat, a strong (and soft) hand moving toward the doorknob.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” he said, his voice a soft farewell.

With one last glance, he stepped out into the hallway. As the door closed behind him, Aurora leaned against it, sighing.

Aurora knew that if she thought of him, she most certainly would.

Part Four

————— ୨୧ —————

Tag List: @fangirl509east @saraxoxo12567 @kyle-xian @mellamolayla @gem1712

[softonstyles]

Harry Styles and David Dawson  MY POLICEMAN (2022) dir. Michael Grandage

[softonstyles]

Part Two

(Part One)

Word Count: 1.6K

She was on cloud nine.

The lingering high from the coffee shop encounter lightened Aurora’s steps as she walked home, the weight of her usual concerns floating away. Even the oppressive humidity that previously clung to the air had lifted, leaving only a pleasant warmth that resembled her glow from within.

She was on cloud nine, and had zero intention of coming down anytime soon.

That was, of course, until her phone rang.

“Hi,” she answered, balancing the phone against her shoulder. Her tone came out sharper than she meant, and she winced at the unintended edge. After all, it wasn’t the caller’s fault her daydream had been interrupted.

At least not intentionally.

She also silently cursed herself for hauling such an oversized bag on what was meant to be a simple outing. Now, rummaging for her keys felt like a dive into a bottomless pit.

“Mornin’, future roomie!” chirped a familiar voice.

Aurora’s lips curved into a smile. “Would’ve been current roomie if you weren’t late,” she replied. “And morning to you, too.”

“Psh, ten o’clock, eleven o’clock — who’s keeping track?”

“ — I am.”

“Details, details,” Charlotte quipped. “The point is, we’re going to be roomies soon!”

Aurora rolled her eyes in amusement. “How soon, exactly?”

“Hmm,” Charlotte paused, as if consulting the stars. “GPS says. . . eighteen minutes. So if I don’t get lost, eighteen minutes.”

“Thirty, then.”

“Fair.”

At last, Aurora’s fingers brushed against her keys. She fished them out, unlocked the entrance door, and stepped into the narrow hallway. Their apartment was on the third floor of a modest walk-up, which meant no elevator — just three flights of stairs standing between her and home.

Which was fine. . . for now.

She had promised to be more intentional with health and fitness while working on her doctorate. It seemed hypocritical not to, given her field. Three flights of stairs each day would be a reasonable start, though it was only a matter of time until she grew tired of it altogether.

By the time Aurora reached the front door, her thighs burned and she was panting heavily. Charlotte didn’t seem to notice, fully immersed in her story about a boy she had reconnected with over the summer. Aurora could only half-listen, too winded to catch every word.

“Wait,” Charlotte piped, “is that Stevie?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Aurora said. “I set up my record player earlier and forgot to turn it off before I went out.”

“Ooh, look at you, you old scoundrel. I always knew you had it in you. Go anywhere fun?”

“Charlotte, it’s not even noon yet.”

“And?”

“And, the only reasonable thing to be doing at this hour is getting coffee. Which I did. At this place called Cozy’s. You’ll probably pass it on your way here.”

“Cozy’s, huh? Sounds like a euphemism for —”

“Charlotte.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” Charlotte teased. “How’s the coffee, then?”

“Pretty good,” Aurora replied, taking another sip of her iced latte. Then, after a beat, “Actually, something. . . interesting sort of happened. There was this really cute guy.”

“Well, don’t just leave me hanging!” Charlotte exclaimed dramatically. “Was there a vibe? Did he ask for your number? Oh my God, you asked for his —”

“Relax,” Aurora laughed. “It was nothing big. We’ll catch up when you get here.”

“Fine, fine,” Charlotte huffed. “See you in ten.”

“Twenty.”

“Exactly. Love you, bye!”

“Love you, too. Drive safe.”

Aurora hung up the phone and turned her attention to tidying up. The main space was mostly in order, save for a few stray boxes in the living room. One of them contained her desk, which she had attempted — unsuccessfully — to assemble earlier. The instructions had been so confusing that she shoved the pieces back into the box, promising herself to tackle it another day.

She moved the box against the wall and set about preparing a simple charcuterie board. It was by no means fancy, but satisfying all the same. She hoped Charlotte, and her dad (who was helping with the move), would appreciate the simple gesture.

Moving is hard and hungry work, she thought, nibbling on a wedge of gouda.

Twenty-five minutes later — but who was counting? — a loud noise echoed at the door, three sharp raps. Aurora smiled, instantly recognizing Charlotte’s signature knock.

She flung the door open just as Charlotte lunged forward, wrapping her in a bear hug. “Biggie!”

“Are we still using that nickname?” Aurora staggered back, laughing. “I thought you’d drop it once you graduated.”

“Never.” Charlotte answered proudly.

Once she was released, Aurora gave Charlotte a tour of the apartment. Charlotte oohed and ahhed at all the right moments, finally declaring, “This looks even better in person.”

The tour ended in the kitchen, as good things often do, where Charlotte immediately honed in on the charcuterie board. She grabbed a grape and plopped it into her mouth. “This is so cute,” she said between bites. “I love when you do stuff like this. Who even has the energy to make mini salami vaginas?”

Aurora snorted. “They’re roses!”

“Same thing.”

It wasn’t until Charlotte reached for another grape with the casual ease of someone not in the middle of a move that Aurora realized something was amiss. “Wait,” she said. “Where’s your stuff?”

Charlotte pointed to her Dior saddle bag as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Uh, right here?”

“No, Char.” Aurora sighed. “Your moving boxes? Suitcases?”

“Oh, that!” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “My dad should be bringing up the first load soon. Then I’ll go back down with him for the rest.”

Classic Char.

Aurora had a feeling she would be thinking that phrase a lot over the next three years. Charlotte’s philosophy was “it’ll work out,” while Aurora’s was built on lists, backup plans, and the occasional overthinking spiral. But that was their dynamic.

Chaos met order.

Grapes met charcuterie.

And somehow, it all just worked.

————— ୨୧ —————

“Honestly, he’s been incredible,” Charlotte grinned as she finished recounting her story about Bennett. Never one to stay with someone for long — always finding some fatal flaw — but this time, she seemed genuinely invested. “We haven’t made anything official yet, but I could see things heading that way soon.”

Aurora easily mirrored her smile, pouring lemonade into two glasses. “That’s incredible, Char.” She handed one to Charlotte, then leaned against the counter. “You said he lives one town over from where you grew up. So, what, like an hour and a half away from here?”

“Exactly,” Charlotte replied, though her excitement dimmed just a little. “You don’t think that’s too far, right? I mean, would that be considered long-distance?”

Aurora paused, choosing her words carefully. “I wouldn’t call it long-distance, per se. An hour and a half isn’t that bad.” But when the furrow on Charlotte’s brow deepened, she stepped closer. “Think of it this way: an hour and a half is still less time than Taylor Swift’s last album.”

Charlotte, a die-hard Swiftie, couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s true. But wait — which one? The Tortured Poets Department or The Tortured Poets Department Anthology?”

“There’s two?” Aurora blinked, incredulous.

Before Charlotte could answer, heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by a soft thud and a muttered, “Shit.” Stevie Nicks’ voice skipped, and Aurora winced. 

That was definitely her record player. 

Charlotte gave Aurora an apologetic look and disappeared toward the door. Aurora busied herself rearranging a stack of coasters but paused when Charlotte returned, trailing behind someone carrying a moving box. Her eyes landed on his shoes — surprisingly on trend for a dad — before following the line of his broad shoulders and strong jaw.

Fuck.

It was him.

Coffee shop cutie.

Aurora had gone unnoticed until his gaze, previously locked in a disapproving look at Charlotte — no doubt a consequence of carrying all her things while she only held a purse — shifted toward her. In that moment, a flicker of recognition lit his eyes, disarming him (and her) before he masked it with a neutral expression. 

Any thoughts lingering behind that look remained unexpressed as he strode across the room with an easy confidence, stopping just in front of her.

Oh, God.

A surge of panic coursed through her, pulse pounding as she silently prayed to be swallowed whole by the ground.

“Hi,” he said, extending a hand. His voice was calm, measured. “I’m Harry, Charlotte’s dad. It’s nice to meet you.”

She hesitated for only a second before sliding her hand into his. Harry’s handshake was firm, commanding, and the jolt it sent through Aurora’s body almost short-circuited her brain.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles,” she managed, her voice barely audible.

The corner of Harry’s mouth twitched, and for a split second — so quick she almost missed it — his green eyes darkened, as though her words had struck something deep inside him.

“Anyway,” Charlotte said, oblivious to the tension. “Aurora was just about to tell me about this guy she met at the coffee shop today. Super cute, apparently.”

Please, God.

Aurora’s brain scrambled for a way out, grasping at the opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere. Maybe she could pass it off as a different coffee shop, a separate encounter —

“Oh?” Harry’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, laced with amusement. A glint of mischief shone behind those almond-shaped eyes, though his focus on her never wavered. “What coffee shop was this?”

Before she could deflect, Charlotte chimed in. “Cozy’s, right?”

Harry’s grin deepened as he glanced at Charlotte, keeping his tone casual. “There’s one near us, isn’t there?”

“Hmm, not sure,” Charlotte mumbled, too preoccupied looking through one of the bags Harry brought in to give it much thought. 

“They make an excellent olive oil bundt cake,” Harry continued, turning back to Aurora with a look that sent her stomach plummeting. “Pairs perfectly with their lattes.”

Aurora wasn’t religious, but if the clouds opened up and struck her down right then, she’d call it mercy.

(Part Three)

[softonstyles]

Hi could you please add a keep reading cut to your stories? It looks like a squiggly line at the bottom right when you set up a post ! 

absolutely! it should be all set now. thank you so much for pointing that out — still getting used to the interface 😅