Irresistible (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

21: Fifty Shades of Kiwi

"I can't believe it love... I just can't," Harry says completely exasperated by the whole thing.

It's kind of cute really.

His hair is starting to get curly at the top. He's wrapped up in a cozy yet ugly sweater and his eyes are wide in disbelief.

If I was confident tactile person than this would be the moment when I lean in and–

Nevermind.

I swirl my glass and watch the dark wine swooshin in my glass in the hopes that I can stop feeling like this. I still feel this little niggle in my stomach every time we sit out here and with Harry's hair looking as it does tonight is going nothing helpful for my insides.

At least this time I have a bit more control. Harry and I aren't sitting impossibly close making my skin fizze on my bones form the proximity and I stay as far away from his pool as possible so but there is still this feeling.

Sitting here, under the night sky with Harry on the lounger across from me, I am taken back to that first night with him. He was drunk, I was sad and confused, and I couldn't of acted like more of a mess but that kiss, even the thought of it, makes my whole body heat up.

I want him to do it again– Wait what?

No I don't... and even if I did I'd be a fool to believe he'd make any sort of move.

And now I can't stop staring at his pink lips as he talks rather animatley about the most random thing imaginable.

"How have you never tried Kiwi?" Harry asks clearly appalled by this simple truth.

I shrug him off loving the fact that he can get so passionate by a type of fruit. "I just haven't."

"But it's kiwi."

I watch him completely taken by his every word as he huffs in obvious annoyance, Harry mystified by my every word.

"Well do you have any?" I argue, "for someone who loves kiwi so much you're bound to have quite a few around the house."

Harry takes a moment thinking about this answer but when he gives his head a little shake, mostly to himself, I know instantly he doesn't actually have any.

"Wow, the kiwi association would be furious, their kiwi mascot doesn't actually have any kiwi in his possession," I tease, his eyes darting back into mine. "How could you Harry?"

"Whether I have any kiwi in the house doesn't matter, however the fact that you somehow haven't tried it does."

"Harry I grew up in New York City fueled by chinese takeout and cream cheese bagels, kiwi wasn't in hot demand... at least not in my household."

"Seriously?"

"Ya, it's not like here in L.A. You don't enter the market with a plethora of fruit at your disposal. And even if there was tons of crazy fruits it wasn't a part of my life and–"

"Not that, you grew up in New York?" He looks genuinely pleased to know this about me but my whole body freezes. I don't normally tell people about myself because it leaves you open.

But Harry made me slip up and I can't blame it on the wine because I've barely had any of it.

It's because of him and how he makes me feel.

"Yep, it's no big deal," I try to brush this off taking only my second sip of my red wine of the night.

"Sure it is," he smiles with a little nod. "You're not very forthcoming with yourself."