Harry Styles Beachwood Cafe Novels & Stories

He said coldly, “I’m giving you one chance to apologise to Xynthia, and to start preparing for my reservation on the day after tomorrow.” “Apologise? Prepare for your booking? Are you even awake?” Harry yelled, jutting out a rude finger and pointing at Harvey’s nose. Harvey made a curt nod and took out his phone. He punched in some numbers.“In ten minutes, change the host of Buckwood Tower’s Spinning Restaurant who’s serving me right now to someone else.” “Ha, ha, ha, ha…!” Harry and his cronies burst out laughing at Harvey’s words as he talked into his battered old phone that looked as if it cost only a mere fifteen dollars.

Harry replied while adjusting his glasses on his nose. Robin couldn't comprehend how he got to know what her brother's name was. Harry seemed like a weird person to her and she didn't even want to ask how he knew it, so she just smiled and replied, "I'm sorry, but that day, all I had on my mind was yelling at Andrew, I don't remember seeing you there, but I hope we can be friends, thanks for showing me around. What type of coffee does Andrew usually take?" "Oh, I'll show you how to make that, he only drinks cafe latte," Harry replied as they entered the break room.

Beauvoir wanted everything to be perfect and spared no effort, taking care of the dinner table decoration, the house arrangement, and the menu selection. If Harry hadn't already left the house nervous, as happened with Kath on the day of the visit to the Windsons, nor had trouble choosing the twenty-year-old whiskey he brought for Hiram and the orchid he chose for Abby, during dinner, he became even more relaxed, almost as if he were among old friends. To try to make the boy completely at ease, after seeing everything his wife had prepared, Mr. Beauvoir bet on the informality of a polo shirt with jeans and offered beer to the guest, instead of a spirit.

13 Harry and I are consonantly seeing each other now. Its him that I talk about my problems between my family as I’m ashamed to say it to Faye and Asher is busy with his girls, and I don’t know if he’ll be available if I call him again. “Here’s our order.” I smile as Harry arrange our food in our table. He knows I like to take a photo of things and that include foods. We’re in a cafe as he just finish a modeling shoot. I like it when he ask me to come with him whether he has a shoot. I enjoy seeing him so passionate about something he likes to do.

Now I'm worried, whereas our aim here is to kill him on the spot. 'We'll survive!' 'I hope so.' A waiter gave them a menu book, the cafe they entered had a modern theme and had a slightly urban nuance. Very comfortable ... although the air here is not very good, some visitors smoke in the cafe area. Jason ordered an iced americano and an avocado cheesecake, an odd choice. Harry gave him a confused look... "Sounds delicious ... I just wanted to try it. I love avocado and cheese anyway." Jason defended himself. Harry ordered a cold Americano and a strawberry cake, Reina copied her brother's order then sat down next to Harry.

I pull into the National trust car park and turn to the children, “Who’s hungry?” “Meeee!” they all chorus. We ramble out of the car and walk over to the café on the site, after going for a much-needed loo break. As we walk through the door of the café we’re greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and baked goods, my mouth instantly starts watering. Harry’s face is pressed up against the glass counter as he eye’s up all the delicious food. “That one Mumma pees”, Harry is pointing to a meringue nest coated in fresh cream and strawberries,

He wished he could reconcile with her before his dad passed away, and make him proud of him again. “Miss Williams” Harry's voice boomed on the speaker of the phone. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday afternoon. Less than an hour after noon. He was seated, relaxed, on the balcony of his hotel room. His laptop was opened on a small table by his side. He had been working on some files for the project with the PR company. “Good afternoon Mr. Styles.” Ciara replied lightly and he raised his eyebrow curiously. Styles wasn't his surname, wasn't part of his name.

I muttered. “That’s not an issue. I’m here. We’ll go shopping today.” “No, Harry. You’re busy. I can just pick something.” “No. That’s not acceptable. They’re meeting the Trinity Real Estate CEO for the first time. You have to stand out. Let’s inform the housekeeper—she can look after the kids while we’re out.” “Fine,” I said, hiding a laugh. “So, you’re my stylist for today?” A few hours later, we were walking through rows of boutiques. Some were familiar, others not. Harry’s hands sifted through racks, placing dresses in front of me, his fingers brushing the silky fabrics.

It smells amazing. Harry pulls the chair for me after kissing me softly on the lips, and I take my place. Harry serves me with my favourite, mushroom risotto, while he serves himself with some Spinach and Ricotta cannelloni. “Wine?” he asks, and I nod my head while he fills my glass with a glass of white wine and his with a red. “What’s the occasion?”, I ask looking around at the candles. “I want to ask you out on a date, I have this gala I need to attend to, and I would like you to attend it with me”, Harry says

I don’t have to turn to know who it is. Harry sees it too—the flicker of recognition in the eyes of the other patrons, the sudden hush that falls over the café. Chase Sterling has arrived.