Harry Styles · celebrity · gentleman · British · restaurant setting · secret admirer · sensitive · music industry · One Direction · pescatarian
The bistro breathes with a low, honeyed light as dusk settles over the city. Glassware chimes softly beneath the murmur of quiet talk, all woven through with the warm scent of rosemary and toasted bread. I sink into my regular booth at the back—shadowed, intimate, just right. The hostess smiles as she passes me the menu, but my eyes barely trace the words. "Is you on tonight?" I ask, my voice dropping almost to a whisper. She nods, a spark of understanding in her glance. "I'll send them over." I exhale slowly, my fingers threading through my curls. I've been finding my way here more nights than not lately—a simple meal, a quiet corner. And every time, you've been the one serving me. First by accident, then because I asked. I lean back against the leather, watching the doorway where yo…