Harry was excited. This was his first time back at the BRITs Awards since he left the band life behind. He missed the environment, the buzz that came with award shows. Not to mention the fact, that he was nominated in two categories. And, not to make himself sound like a narcissistic asshole, he felt like he had the chance to win both awards.

"You ready?" he asked his girlfriend as he hurried down the stairs, somehow running late for the rehearsal. They woke up late because Harry couldn't sleep all night. So, to tire him out, they fucked one too many times. Only for them to continue talking until four in the morning. That left them with the same number of hours of sleep. And Harry had to be at the venue for nine.

"I've been ready," she chuckled as she stood up from the couch. Not so surprisingly, she wore a pair of denim jeans and a black hoodie, the one Harry sold on his website with the rainbow writing on the front. Her feet were hidden in a pair of Nike Air Forces, white. "You look wrecked, baby."

"Well, that's on you," he smirked at her as he walked closer, his right arm snuck around her waist as he pulled her in for a kiss on the lips. He pulled back, just to lean in once more and kiss her again. "How is it that I can't get enough of you?"

Her cheeks reddened at the sound of the question, completely flustered from the inside-out. She pulled the hood of the hoodie on her head and pulled the strings tight so she could hide her face from Harry. It made him laugh as he grabbed her and engulfed her in a close hug. Once he pressed a kiss on the top of her head, he reached for her hand and dragged her out of his house.

Jeffrey called Harry when they both sat in his car. They sat in front of his house as he chatted to his manager, telling him he was stuck in traffic. A sweet little white lie that Jeff did not believe, of course.

"Harry. Your end of the line is quiet," the manager declared which caused Harry's girlfriend to bite down on her bottom lip in order to keep the bubbling laughter back.

"I can't be on my phone when I'm driving. I pulled to the side when you called," he lied through his teeth. It made Jeff sigh.

"Just hurry up."

And then he ended the call.

"What a twat," Harry muttered as he started up the car then placed the belt over his body.

"Hey, he is nice," she defended the man as she clicked her belt in place, too. "Besides, he has the right to be frustrated with you. You are always late."

"I never used to be late," he reminded her.

"Are you blaming your tardiness on me, Mister?" she gasped as he slapped Harry's arm. But he just chuckled to himself like the cute little shit he was. It made his girl's heart melt and flutter at the same time and she kind of hated how much of an impact he had on her.

"Who else am I meant to blame it on, hm?" he asked back. "Even the general public is scared of me having you around. You're a distraction to me."

"Oh, piss off!" she laughed as she pulled away from him. It didn't take long for Harry to laugh with her, both of them knowing that wasn't true at all. The gp's opinion never mattered to Harry or his girlfriend. No one's opinion mattered to them when it came to their relationship. That was their personal and therefore private business, so, if anyone had anything to say about it, they just didn't care.

"I'm kiddin'—I love you."

"Of course, you do," she rolled her eyes then sighed, relaxing back into the car seat. The Range Rover drove smooth on the road, it barely made any sound as the radio played softly. "Turn it up."

"Turn that shit off."

They looked at each other as Dance Monkey came on the radio. It was something they did a lot; talk at the same time and completely do it over one another.

"You just hate it because it topped the charts and you couldn't get past it," she teased him, obviously joking. Harry didn't particularly care about the charts, nor did he hate the song. It was an inside joke between them.

"I bet you streamed the fuck out of it, didn't you? Just so I couldn't get to number one," he mumbled under his breath, going on with the fake, offended attitude.

"Obviously," she said with an attitude that got Harry smirking.

"I knew it," he sighed, devastated at the news he was already thinking in his head. Then he glanced at her just to see how she was already grinning and that's what broke him. It always did. He shook his head with a wide smile, teeth on show and dimples deepened into the soft skin of his cheek.

She caught him singing along to the song after that. She never mentioned it to him, though, too amused by the fact that he slipped up like that. It was adorable, really. How he enjoyed the music and sang, yet his focus was on the road and the cars coming from the right as he waited for the opportunity to turn into the roundabout.

They got to the venue in about ten-to-fifteen minutes. Harry locked the car with the key after his girlfriend closed the door on her side, too. She walked over to him and he stretched his arm out so they could hold hands. She jump-walked and Harry just laughed, finding it insane that she was so hyper when he could barely keep his eyes open.

As they entered through the backdoor, Jeffrey instantly greeted them. Although he was more focused on Harry, he made sure to nod at his girlfriend too, acknowledging her presence in the most subtle way since he clearly was stressed over other things to initiate proper conversation with her. She understood and kept her pace with the two men to make sure she didn't stay behind and get lost. She had never been to the o2 before, not enough times to know her way around the building on her own.

Soon enough, Harry got mic'd up and rushed to the stage, two of the women who played in his band already at the piano they had placed on the stage.

"So, did you manage to find a dress for tonight?" Harry Lambert stood by her as he asked the question. His tone was teasing; they had this conversation before. Harry's girlfriend turned the opportunity down to be dressed by Lambert because she felt it was too much. She wasn't a famous artist or anything like that, so, to have a stylist put her in a designer dress just felt a little over the board for her. That's why she reassured Lambert that she'd find her own fit.

"You'll see," she reassured him. But she failed.

"So, you haven't, then."

"I didn't say that."

"This will be your first official event, won't it?" he questioned although he knew the answer was yes. She nodded and sighed, her hands on her waist as she chewed on her bottom lip. The thought of this being the first time of standing in front of the media with Harry on her side, stressed her out more than she cared to admit to anyone, nevermind herself. "C'mon—let me dress you. It'll be nice, promise."

"Harry showed me a photo of the grandpa suit you're putting him in for the red carpet. So, if you plan on making me look like the grandma to match him, I'll have to decline," she joked. Obviously, she didn't care what Harry wore. If he liked it, then who was she to comment on it? Their tastes were different and that was it. Nothing wrong with that.

"Oh, shut it," he chuckled and pushed her a little, both of them sharing a smile. "Come on, I'll show you a few options."

"You knew I didn't have anything, didn't you?" she squinted her eyes at him.

"Not until you just told me," he laughed. "I thought maybe you'd find something."

"Why all the options then?"

"For Glenne," he responded and she nodded. She didn't even think of that. "I'll show you them after he's done."

"Alright," she said.

Then they both focused on Harry's rehearsal. He was insane, as usual. He hit every note perfectly through both of the times he decided to sing the song. It was Falling. It was her favourite song for all of the reasons she could think of. Hearing it come to life right in front of her, his voice filling up the venue, it was the most beautiful moment. And this was only the rehearsal.

It made her tear up. She couldn't hide the way the song and his voice made her feel. Goosebumps on her arms and blurred vision, all she wanted to do was interrupt the performance and hug her boyfriend. She loved him so dearly that listening to the lyrics that described how he once felt, absolutely destroyed her.

Eventually, they finished and she couldn't keep herself back from hugging Harry as soon as he was only a couple of steps away from her, off the stage now and out of everyone's way. She hid her face in the crook of his neck, even if it made her glasses squeak a little bit as the frame mushed against him, and wrapped her arms tightly around him. She could hear him chuckle as he hugged her back, his hand up and down her back as he tried to make her feel better. This wasn't the first time she felt so overwhelmed by her emotions for him, so he knew he had to let her get over it by herself and gradually. He loved her for it all the more.

"You okay, lovey?" he asked her with the tiniest smile on his lips. One of his hands cradled her face, his thumb gently caressed her cheek whilst the other one held her hand.

"Yes," she replied. "I just love you."

"Well, I just love you, too," he grinned, happy to share how he felt whenever he had the opportunity.

"No. I mean it."

"I mean it, too," he pressed. She pursed her lips as she found herself deep in thought and Harry took this as his invite to give her a kiss. She didn't expect it because she was too busy staring at his gorgeous face but in the end, she gladly wrapped her arms around his middle. "See? I mean it."

"You're silly," she scrunched up her nose and it made Harry lean down and brush his against it. Then he pressed his forehead to hers before he kissed the skin there. "You are so special."

"Aw. Is this going to be one of those love speeches, hm?"

"Yes. So, shut up," she poked his chest and he lifted his head a little, arms crossed in front of his body. "I just love you so much and you have no idea. Listening to you sing that song then, I just felt like I didn't even deserve you but even still, I wanted to stop the whole thing and hug you forever. It kills me a little, every time, I think about how people before me have hurt you because I just can't fathom how they could do that," she found herself too deep into her little monologue to stop or even bother to stop. She just needed to get it out of her system. "I'm so proud of you, too, because you're performing here tonight and you are nominated for two awards. I don't know. You just work so hard and passionately and consistently and you've been through so much that you just deserve everything good and more in life, you know? You are so amazing."

Harry didn't know what to say. He never knew what to say. These outbursts of pure love and admiration always caught him off guard but he loved them. He loved how much she loved him and that's why he thought he didn't deserve her. No one deserves a soul as golden as her. No way.

He teared up. It may have been the adrenaline he felt from the thought of performing tonight. Or it simply may have been from the strength of her words.

"You are crazy, you know that?" he ended up chuckling as he hid his face with his hands. He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms and then let out a loud sigh as he walked around, making a little circle. "Damn, I wish I had a ring on me right now so I could propose because every time you say shit like that to me, I just want to pick you up and run away so we can get married. I don't think I'll ever love anyone quite as much as I love you, so, I don't think there's any point in waiting."

"If that's your proposal then I'm saying no," she scoffed. "I said all of those nice things about you and then you pop the question? Absolutely not. Work for it."

"How do you go from making me cry to making me want to strangle you?"

"I don't know but keep the kinks between the four walls of your bedroom, please."

"You're so quick on your feet, too," he shook his head. "I'd be insane not to marry you."

"If you keep on mentioning marriage to me, I'm gonna run off," she joked. Harry brought the topic up more than usual in the past couple of weeks. She wasn't sure why and, in all honesty, he didn't know why. It wasn't like he had this solid plan of proposing to her. Well, not any time soon. It was just that he loved her so much and all he could think about was spending the rest of his life with her.

"No," he pulled her back and engulfed her in a close hug. "You cannot run away from me. Ever."

"Well, don't make me wanna run away then."

Lambert dragged both of them to the back after that. He interrupted their conversation, not that he cared much, and showed both of them the outfit options he had for the woman. Harry—Styles—went for one straight away, his claims loud and proud as he tried to get his girlfriend to choose that dress.

"I think I like this one," she pointed to the most basic dress out of them all, one that Harry Lambert didn't even want to put on show. He just knew she would go for that one because throughout the period of her dating Styles, he got a feel for who and how she was. "What do you think?"

"Predictable."

"No."

Lambert answered first then Styles. She gasped and then folded her arms, offended at the response she got. Obviously, the two men didn't care as long as she was going to feel comfortable in the outfit, though they both wished for her to step out of her comfort zone.

"Come on," she tried to reason with them. "This is my first red carpet. I don't want to look like a tit."

"You should put them on blast, though," Lambert joked and she laughed meanwhile Styles cleared his throat. "She'd be hot in the red one."

"That's true," the boyfriend agreed. "But I don't want everyone to be gawking at her, when I should be the centre of attention."

"Oh, get a grip," she commented with an eyeroll. She so knew he would say that when the real reason behind him not wanting her in the dress was that she'd get picked apart and sexualised to the point where it would hurt her more than do her any good. He knew her way too well to already be able to predict the outcome. He just wanted to look out for her through everything in life and she knew and appreciated that. However, it didn't stop her from making jokes as he never revealed the real reasoning behind his actions when others were present. "But I have to agree. I don't want to be the centre of attention."

"You are going on the red carpet with Harry. I think your chances are ruined," Lambert commented as he sat down and took a sip of his coffee.

"Well, yes, but if I wear a lowkey dress, something that's socially acceptable, then I won't be as scrutinised as I would be if I put my triple D's on show. Or do you disagree?"

"Why hide them when you can show them?" he laughed.

"Alright, that's enough chat about my girlfriend's tits in front of me," Harry interrupted the conversation. "No red or pink dress, we're going with the black, right?" he looked at her finally as the decision was up to her. She had the power to make or break how tonight would go.

"Yep."

"Wonderful," he clapped his hands. "We'll be back before the red carpet. Tell Azoff I have business to take care of."

"What business?" the stylist laughed.

Harry then looked at his woman and smirked. "Private matter."

And boy, was it private matter. The second they got home—or, well, back to his place where they spent most of their time—his girlfriend was naked and flushed, body hotter than the weather outside and her skin covered in more goosebumps than anyone had ever seen. Harry buried his face between her smooth thighs, the ones that she couldn't help but wrap around his head, keeping him there for long enough to make herself feel good. His tongue wrote the whole of the alphabet into her sweet folds before he promised her to love her forever and more. His tongue, his chin, his lips were soaked in her and yet, he wanted more. He needed her taste down his throat and embedded in his mind so much so that he didn't let her breathe for hours.

The living room became stuffy and smelled of sex, spiced with the tangy addition of their love for each other. Both of their cheeks rosy from the warmth their body radiated, hearts beating faster than the wheels of Harry's Range Rover on their way home from rehearsals.

As they laid in bed, they couldn't stop thinking about each other. Even after hour upon hours of admiration for one-another.

His mind kept replaying the images of her looking up at him with the most innocent look in her eyes as she was down on her knees, hands gripping him, lips loving and her tongue caressing him. The feel of him was smooth and warm, the veins creating just the right feel later on when he tucked himself inside of her for hours. The thoughts running through his mind made him go a little crazy but so did the visuals as everything happened time after time. He loved seeing her with his cock down her throat, sucking all there was left of him, away. But then, he absolutely adored the way he fucked everything out of her the same. When she'd lay back on the bed and give herself to him, legs apart and chest heavy as he'd tuck his cum back inside of her and whisper 'Keep that in there for me, yeah?', her doing nothing but obeying as she'd close her legs and kiss him. Truth be told, there were too many photos of them that made him go insane.

Not that she was any less in love. Nope.

Her mind kept replaying the images of him looking up at her with the most mesmerising, green, glassy eyes she had ever seen as he tucked his hot, skilful tongue inside of her. He'd work her in ways she had never been worked before, her lack of experience in this department obviously adding to the fact. He was her first and he found that crazy. There was only a few years separating them in age and yet, she never had anyone who could make her feel all the wonders of the world.

Well, other than herself, of course.

She loved that thought. That he was the only one to ever touch her. She felt like she was special because she waited and she got the best of all there is. Of course, that was slightly biased to say as she didn't have anyone before him to compare to. But that's what made it feel so right.

He was the only one who knew her body like that. He was the only one who knew she loved the attention on certain body parts and not so much on others. He knew her limits and the things she was interested in, which, essentially, made the time in the bedroom—or anywhere in the house—that much more fun. Both of them finding it to be important to be open with one another, they had discovered so much about what they like individually and also what the other enjoys.

So, she often thought about the way he teased her and kept her on the edge, just to push her over after a long while of keeping her from happiness.

"You know," she spoke up after what felt like a good hour of just laying in bed. It had to have been hours since they got back from the o2. They were completely tired out in the living room, on the pull-out couch, bundled up in a quilt and surrounded by pillows. She made him go upstairs and get the stuff down here after he lost the argument of just moving upstairs. "If you win these awards tonight, I won't hold back on you."

"That sounds like a threat," he chuckled. Harry turned his head on the side, that way he could look at her.

"Well," she leaned on her side, the sheets clasped to her chest. She placed her left leg over both of his and ran her index finger down his chest until it hooked into his necklace, just above the cross medal. "It's not," she whispered as her eyes flickered up at him, both of them grinning as she leaned down for a kiss.

"How do I know you'll keep your word?" he spoke into the kiss, their lips touched with each word. Harry raised his eyebrows as he packed his hands behind his head as if he was giving his girlfriend to green light to do whatever she had planned in her head. Because they both knew she was thinking.

"You'll just have to trust me on this one, I guess," she cocked her eyebrow as she slid under the cover that kept Harry warm, their skin touching instantly. Her heat sat on his groin, the man getting harder by the second. "Some parts of you seem to be doing that already, so, how about you let your smart brain follow, hm?" she leaned down and kissed him, her tongue delved into his mouth and stole a wet kiss from him.

Harry moaned as she moved her hips upwards, her right hand going between them as she lined his cock up with her sex. She bit down on her lip as the tip of him ran along her slit, up to her clit where she teased herself. The feeling getting the better of her, she pried her eyes open to look at her man, only to find him staring at her with lust so deeply laced in his eyes that she wanted nothing more than to destroy the man beneath her.

"How about a shower?" he asked. It made her tilt her head because who the fuck drops that question when they are balls deep in a woman? But it also made sense because this was Harry. And he was random. He carried on. "I'll need the energy for tonight. Especially if I win those awards."

"I can't believe you're turning down sex."

"I'm not," he fought. "Just want you in the shower."

"Your shower is not as big as you'd want it to be for shower sex."

"Well, maybe not. But my cock is as big as you like it to be, so, does the shower size really matter?" he asked without a hint of shame in his voice. To make it even better, he was slightly cocky about it, too. Although, that was because he had something to be cocky about.

"What is it with you and shower sex, honestly?" she got off of him and reached for his shirt. It covered most of her body, well, until she'd stand up. His shirts were long, but not long enough to cover her properly. Her ass would always hang out, which Harry loved more than anything. Mainly because it gave him easy access to her sweet parts and he just had to have her any chance he could.

"Do you really want to know?" he asked, still laying the way she left him. She nodded as she reached for the bobble on her wrist and tied her hair up in a bun. Harry never told her this because he just felt weird. He didn't know why because it wasn't anything strange. "I love pressing you into the wall and seeing you crumble. You claw into the tiles just before you come and you sound so desperate and hot as you're begging for me and I love that. Seeing you wet, facing me—your whole body just glistening, your tits perky from the sudden gust of wind, the way you feel around me and in my hands. Or when you're on your knees and you glance up at me, all soaked and sexy... it's just different."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's just... it's something that I like to keep to myself."

She smirked. He looked at her confused. But also, very horny. "You get off to that thought, don't you?"

"I get off to the thought of you all the time," he shrugged. She rolled her eyes, not phased by the words. As mentioned earlier, they were much too open with each other. That's why she didn't understand why he'd keep this from her. "Shower sex is just different. It's my favourite."

"It's also bloody dangerous!" she exclaimed.

"So, what, you're not turned on by what I just said?" he raised his eyebrow, challenging her. "Did it not get you tingly and wet in all the right places? Get your mind going and your tummy bubbling, thinking of all the dirty things I whisper in your ear whenever I take you from behind?"

"Shut up," she kicked him with her foot. She fell back into bed and stared up at the ceiling. "You didn't want me on top just now, so, go and wank off in the shower. But clean it up afterwards. Don't want to slip on your kids."

"Now you're the one turning down sex. What is wrong with you, woman?"

"Don't you dare quote me your stupid song," she looked at him, pretending to be angry with him. But he knew better. As he pushed himself up, he put his right arm around her and wrestled her down onto the bed, moving on top of her and going in for the killer—neck kisses. "No. No. No. No. No. You do not get to do that to me."

"You love this too much to actually mean that," he said cockily before he dived right in and kissed her up. His lips left wet kisses all over her neck and throat, his lips travelled down her chest as he pushed the neck of his shirt down on her. "Bloody fucking shirt," he groaned as he straightened up slightly and picked at the bottom of the material. "Up," he instructed as he dragged the shirt off of her. "Better," he smiled in a satisfied mood, going back on his mission to leave one too many love bites on his lover's body.

And he did. Literally one too many.

"I hate Harry Styles so much," she mumbled to herself as she dragged the dress up on her body, already at the o2, in Harry's dressing room. No one was inside, they went to check on the food and she decided to try on the dress. But basically, she could spot the hickeys on her tits. Both of them. The red marks stuck out like a sore thumb and she just wanted to strangle the man. And not in the enjoyable way.

"I thought you weren't going to wear the red dress."

Her whole body jumped at the sudden comment, the voice came from out of nowhere. She turned around, scared, as if she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't have. There stood Harry Lambert, with a champagne already in hand.

No surprise there—she thought.

"I'm not," she sighed and turned back to face the mirror.

"But you want to," he said. Maybe. Red was her favourite colour. Most of her wardrobe consisted of that.

"Well, I can't," she stated.

"Why is that?" he asked. "Is it the potential outcome of what people will think and say?"

"Plays into it, yes."

"They will comment on whatever you wear. Why not go out, looking like the hottest version of yourself?"

"I just don't know if I'm ready to be talked about like that—I mean, I want to be ready for myself as much as I want to be ready for Harry. I can't even back out of this because it's already been planned and I know he is excited for it," she rambled as her insecurities surfaced. She didn't know what it was about Harry's stylist that made her feel so comfortable to share those thoughts but it had been like that for a while. They became good friends during tour and at other friendly get-togethers.

"That's normal," he reassured her. "This is kind of a big deal. The BRITs are one of the most anticipated award shows worldwide, especially in the UK, so, it's understandable that you're feeling the pressure of that," Lambert continued to explain but she already knew that. "You don't have to go on the red carpet with him if you don't feel like you are able to cope with it, though. Yes, Harry is happy you decided you wanted to do that with him. But I also know he'd be fine with you backing out."

"I don't want to back out because I know I'll regret it and because I don't want to ruin Harry's mood. He is very excited," she smiled as she thought of him. "I'm just a little worried, is all."

"You shouldn't be because you're very attractive and you can handle a lot more than you probably know."

"I don't know how much I can, though. Not when it's about something... like this," she huffed. She couldn't explain it. This wasn't her scene at all, she had never been around someone like Harry and she'd only ever read about things like this. The thought of ever attending something like this, didn't cross her mind once. She didn't think it was possible.

"Well, this is your great opportunity to figure it out," he smiled at her. Then, he nodded towards the other dresses. "If you feel as good in the black one as you feel in this one, you'll smash it out there."

And then he left her alone. It gave her the chance to try on the dress she picked out but it felt wrong. It looked okay on her but she kept glancing at the red piece. She felt like something was missing, so, she took it off and got back in the red one.

"God damn it," she groaned to herself, not knowing how to feel about this. She debated on whether or not to cancel this thing and tell Harry she couldn't do it or just get a grip and go on with it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity and she knew that—not that she didn't see a future with Harry and therefore more appearances like this. Simply, it made her stomach jump into a knot and her heart to palpitate a little, the feel of anxiety rushing through her body from the middle of her palms right through her nervous system.

That's when she heard someone whistle. And she knew it was Harry. No one was as annoying as her man. No one. If there was a category for most annoying person on this planet, he would win it.

"So, the red one, eh?" he smirked at her whilst he stepped closer. His hungry eyes ran down her body as he imagined fucking her in that dress. She looked so mouth-watering, he debated if he could sit her on the sink in the bathroom and eat her out whilst she is in that dress.

"I think I prefer it to the black one but you gave me hickeys all over, so..." she ran her hand along her chest, two of her fingers pointing at the bruises that peeked out of the dress. "Bit embarrassing if I go out, looking like someone's whore."

"Well, you'd be my whore," he winked at her through the mirror, his elbows propped on her shoulders. She leaned back against him which made him lift his head up a little then rest his chin on her head.

"Not helping."

"You don't have to do the carpet if you don't want to."

"I didn't say that."

"Not to me, you didn't," he replied. She gave him a look through the mirror and then she pulled away to turn around. "I'm not mad at you for it. Nor will I be upset if you decide you don't want to do it with me."

"I can do it."

"I know you can," he reassured her. "But I will understand if you want to postpone it."

"I don't."

"Okay," he nodded. "If you want to wear this dress—with the triple D's on show—then I can get the makeup artist to cover up those bruises for you."

"That'd be embarrassing," she said.

"Gemma is coming tonight. Do you want her to do it for you?" he suggested. Eh. That's a little weirder than embarrassing. "She'd cover mine up when I was younger and I'm sure she had her fair share."

"She is your sister. Isn't that weird?"

"I'm not really arsed. Are you?"

"Not really."

"Well, that's sorted then," he grinned. "Now, twirl for me, baby."

"No."

"Yes," he encouraged. "Show me that ass."

"Stop being so horny!" she slapped his shoulder as she chuckled.

"Just let me adore you," he sang the lyrics to her and she wanted to die on the spot. He was so embarrassing. And annoying. But she loved him so much more for it.

"I can't stand you," she screwed her eyes shut and she shook her head, wanting the cringey feeling to slip away already. "You are single from now on."

But then she clung to him like her life depended on it. He reminded her of what she said but she pinched him, telling him to pack it in if he wanted to keep his balls for a little longer. Harry, of course, only joked around because he wanted to take her mind off of the nervousness that she felt. He was very nervous for her because he loved her and wanted her to feel okay about this and enjoy the event.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

"I told you to go the loo before," Harry sighed, being dramatic as he let his hand slide down and grip her ass through the dress. "Yup. Knew it looked good in this dress."

"Shut the fuck up."

"You'll make me later," he whispered in her ear and then kissed her cheek, his hand going back up around her waist. "Now get your best smile on, baby. Time to charm the public."

It was difficult at the start. Harry knew that it would be. She'd never done anything like this before and not even his pep-talk could get through to her.

"You okay?" he asked her as he leaned down and he could hear her hum. But not answer, nevermind look at him.

So, he decided to make it fun for the both of them.

And he put his hand on her ass, his fingers slowly curled around the flesh and it got her to look at him immediately. He smirked as he saw her gawking at him from the corner of his eye, her smile so wide that she hid the shock and surprise his touch gave her.

Then he glanced down and she shook her head with lips pursed, making her nose scrunch up slightly.

"Should we kiss?" he asked her as he kept looking at her.

"Are you ma-," mad. That's what she wanted to ask but he'd kissed her. Cut her right off. And it made the cameras go off faster than before, the flash was all they could see behind their closed eyelids. "I hate you," she told him as she wrapped her other arm around his middle too.

"Yeah, well," he grabbed her hand and linked their fingers. "I'll get over it."

The rest of the red carpet was fun. Harry didn't bother giving interviews, they headed backstage right away. He was set to be the third performer of the night, so, he needed to get out of the suit and into the lacey mess that Lambert found him. She never understood how they came up with these ideas and she couldn't imagine her boyfriend in them. But then he put the clothes on and she was left speechless. He looked like the pieces were made for him specifically and it seemingly boosted his confidence.

He was going to do Falling. She knew that. Yet the second the performance started, she felt her soul leave her body. It was dead silent in the venue which meant that she could hear Harry very clearly. Just like during the rehearsal, he did amazingly on stage.

It made her cry and she hated it. Why was she so emotional? Was it all the love she felt for him? That made sense. She loved him more than she ever loved anyone in her life.

As soon as Harry made it over to Table 10, he wrapped his girl up in his arms. As he gave her a tight cuddle, he made sure to kiss her neck and keep his touch on her as they sat down. He pulled his chair closer to hers and then kissed her cheek. And then placed his hand on her thigh. He was so high on adrenaline, he wished she'd have waited for him in his dressing room so he could've had her before having to go through the whole night.

"Is that tequila?" she asked him when he was pouring himself a drink. She was leaned back in the chair and he glanced at her, slightly leaning forward.

"Yeah," he said as he let his eyes look her up and down, finding it insane just how sexy his girl was. "Wanna try it?"

"No, I'm alright," she chuckled. She didn't drink. She always thought that made her very boring because everyone around her drank all the time. She felt like this her whole life.

Then Harry came about.

He made her feel different. He made her feel special. Loved. Interesting. Talented. Powerful. Confident.

He gave her everything she ever lacked and she didn't know how he managed to bring the best out of her. No one had done that to her before. They walked all over her and used her. But no one ever lifted her up and supported her.

He was different.

A good different.

Then the night took a turn.

Harry lost both of the categories he was nominated in, but it didn't seem to matter to either of them. In all honesty, they weren't even paying attention when the categories were on because they were too busy pissing themselves over the most random things ever. Harry's sister and manager paid attention for them, letting the man enjoy his night with his lady and that was all right with everyone.

The man greeted everyone, he barely sat at the table once he downed more than one glass of his tequila. He kept bringing treats and snacks from other tables and piling them in front of his girlfriend. She couldn't help but film him as he'd bring the snacks over and laugh. Both of their heads must have been red from how much they were enjoying themselves and it seemed to entertain everyone around them, too.

"Harry! Sit down," she laughed at him when he'd come back with two champagne glasses.

"This is for you and me," he sat down as he put the glass in front of her. "Drink it with me."

"Will you pack it in if I do?" she tried to make a deal with him. Harry rolled his eyes and sat on the edge of his seat.

"Yes, I will," he reassured her. "Now—to all the good in our lives. To you loving me. To me loving you. And definitely to the amazing sex we have."

"Amen," she chuckled as they clinked their glasses together and took a sip. "I hate it. I hate it."

"Stop being a baby," he laughed at her and downed his champagne. "Gimme yours, crybaby."

"Meanie," she pouted as she gave it to him. That stopped him from drinking the alcohol and instead, he kissed her on the lips. "Stop trying to make up to me. There are cameras."

"None of which are focusing on us, so, shut up," he grinned before he gave her another kiss on the lips. He could never, ever, get enough of her. How in the hell was he so damn lucky? He had the privilege of loving and to be loved by one of the most wonderful human beings. He thought it couldn't get better than that.

The rest of the night was quite entertaining. Harry got interviewed by Jack Whitehall and he spilled wine on his yellow suit. Harry's girlfriend was mortified when Lambert told her it was Marc Jacobs. Not that the fact that it was designer had to determine whether or not it was bad that his outfit got stained, but come on—a suit that expensive?

"Since I didn't win, does that mean you won't have your way with me?" Harry pouted when they walked through the front door. They were too tired to go to the after party. Well, they went, Harry greeted everyone then went home.

He kind of wanted his dose of attention from his lady.

"I don't think so, no," she yawned as she kicked off the red black heels. They weren't Louboutin but Harry Lambert promised her he'd get a pair for the next big event and that was more than fine with her. "I'll sex you up in the morning, how's that?"

"I guess that'll do," he fell in bed with his legs apart. She kind of wanted to straddle him but she also knew they wouldn't get to sleep if she'd do that. They were too hungry for the other. "Undress me."

"I'm not your mother."

"I didn't say you were," he bickered.

"I'm not sucking your dick, either."

"You always do," he whined. "Just undress me so we can sleep."

"Why are you all whiney? You shouldn't be allowed to drink," she mumbled as she stood over him and reached for the band of his trousers. "Lift your hips," she sighed and he obeyed. He grinned at her and then grabbed her arms and pulled her on him. "What are you doing?" she asked with all of her double chins on show. Harry poked it and she flicked his nose.

"Your titties be all up in my business," he giggled as he looked down at her chest. It was pressed against his and he would've lied if he said that wasn't why he'd done that.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're not as slick as you like to think so?" she asked him and he hummed a long 'umm' before he broke out into a silly grin. Yep. Thanks for making me love you more than I did one minute ago.

"No. Has anyone told you that?" he asked. "Because I'll beat them up. No one gets to tell my baby she ain't slick."

"If you are talking about something sexual—and I know you are—I would stop if I were you," she threatened him, not that it bothered her. He was a pig and she was used to that.

"Why? Will you punish me?"

"I would but the cuffs are not here, so, I can't tame you," she smirked at him.

"Damn," he sighed in disappointment. And he really was. He just wanted to be dealt with. Choked a little. "Next time, yeah?" he muttered, half asleep. That tequila really did do him in, didn't it?

"Next time, baby," she reassured him and slid down next to her man. He brought his hand up and curled her to his body, she lifted her left leg over his waist and put her head on his chest. She already got her makeup off but not her dress. And she didn't have the energy to strip out of it. So, she let herself fall asleep like that.

But it was fine because Harry was also in his wine stained outfit and that way, they were both a mess. Like always.