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Summary
His phone vibrates in his pocket and Louis checks it, expecting everything but what he actually reads.
It’s an air drop message. And here’s what it says:
To the boy staring at me from the Bentley Continental, hope this is you.
And then there’s a phone number. A fucking phone number. From the very handsome guy in the car behind. Shit.-
Harry Styles is a tornado with pretty eyes and a heartbeat, and Louis isn’t even scared of the storm.