In an incredibly romantic gesture that’s sure to make your heart burst into a million miniature calorie-free cupcakes, Harry Styles told Taylor Swift he loved her. Just like that. He looked her in the eyes, lightly fingered the key to her chastity belt that he’d stolen from her petticoat drawer and said, “Lisa, I love you.” Realizing he’d made a mistake, he cleared his throat up, interlaced his fingers with hers and said, “Do you mind if I start calling you Lisa?”
Taylor, always a romantic, bopped him on the nose and said in response, “Of course Harry, you can call me whatever you’d like. Why I’ve taken to calling you Conor when I speak to all my friends.” She turned around angrily, making sure her slouch expressed to Harry how hurt she was by his behavior. Harry looked out the window at the approaching storm, thunder rumbled in the distance. He hated when she got like this. Mean, bitter, angry. Often times she’d get in these moods and storm off into another room — as if this all wasn’t a game. As if she didn’t know that they’re a set-up. While he never went after her, he couldn’t help but linger by the door as she strummed on her guitar and tried to find words that rhyme with “betrayal” and “asshole.”
The night wasn’t supposed to go like this. He’d bought her a beautiful bracelet he’d found while packing up his dressing room one night. He couldn’t remember where it came from, but it sparkled under the fluorescent lights and it would sound romantic when the press reported that he’d gifted her with a second-hand bracelet.
Ugh, the press. Harry sighed deeply just thinking about it. Lately everything he’s done, he’s done for them. Kissing Taylor in Times Square on New Year’s Eve, walking around the zoo together with a baby, introducing her to an English Realtor who would help her buy a house close to his mother’s house. Frankly he felt exhausted by the the whirlwind events of the past month. Being in a staged relationship wasn’t nearly as fun as it looked. Especially when he knew that Taylor would inevitably get to be the one to dump him.
“Trust me,” his manager said to him from the dark shadows of a dilapidated booth in a forgotten English pub, “this relationship will do wonders for your image. Americans will find you romantic and sweet and capable of dating women your age! And then, when she dumps you and sings about you in her upcoming album, you’ll get the sympathy card. If you play the game right, you’ll get the sympathy card. So when I give you the signal, tell her you love her. Then I’ll tell the press.”
He shook his head thinking of the conversation, remembering how much it hurt when he pricked his finger and signed the contract in blood. Then he remembered the gift. “Taylor,” he said gently, trying to coax her back into her sweet self, “Taylor, I got you a present, it’s a vintage bracelet.”
She turned back around to face him without even moving. He could swear her head just swiveled a full 360 degrees, but he knew he could never prove it. A moment ago she figured she’d stay mad at him for the night, or at least until they had to get spotted eating dinner together at a cozy cafe. But now she smiled, the bracelet did look pretty and Harry’s hair did curl ever so beautifully. “Thank you,” she said, “it’s beautiful!” Then she lowered her eyes and laughed manically under her breath. She already knew that the song “Stolen Bracelet, Forgotten Heart” would be a hit.
(Story The Sun, Photo Via Pacific Coast News)