#harry styles x ocf

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

too soon to tell, chapter t h r e e

You called Harry three times that afternoon to tell him you declined the job offer. He didn’t pick up.

Eventually he replied to your call me please text.

Harry S (3:21pm): Can’t talk on the phone, sorry. What’s up?

Y/N L/N (3:22pm): I emailed the people at E! and told them I’m not taking the job.

Harry S (3:22pm): Oh

Harry S (3:22pm): Okay, thanks for letting me know. Can we talk about it later? I’ll be home tonight if you want to stay at mine?

Harry S (3:23): Flight lands at 11:30pm

Y/N L/N (3:23)pm: Sure

Harry S (3L24pm): Have fun at Jake's birthday tonight

You were less than satisfied with his reaction and response to the news, so by that evening--when you were sat in the living room of Jessie’s new flat and already regretting your choice of shoes--you only partially wished he was there.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Bryn asked from the doorway to Jessie’s bedroom. She held up two shirts, contemplating which to tug on.

“M’just tired.”

“Busy week, though, right? Finally met with America’s Next Top Model,” Jessie joked.

“Have you seen her? She’s not next,” Bryn corrected. “She’s it.”

“She was really nice,” you repeated what you’d already told them. “It went a lot better than I thought.”

“Did Harry have a thousand questions?” Jessie capped her mascara and then switched off the light in the bathroom. She came to sit near you on the couch.

“Not really--I mean, I told him it went well and that everything was rather tame.”

Bryn picked a fuzz off of the shirt she borrowed and looked in the mirror. “He was obviously just worried that she’d repeat negative things Zayn’s said about them, or the band or whatever.”

“Right,” you rolled your eyes. That was always where Harry’s head was at: work. Instead of seeing how huge of an opportunity this was for you, he focused on the things that could go wrong for him.

The growing distance between you was something you’d share with your best friends, right? Something you’d seek advice around or just even complain about over a cuppa or a cocktail. But with Bryn and Jessie and Harry and Jake and Adam, it wasn’t that simple.

You weren’t afforded the same luxury as a girl with a separate friend group from her boyfriend’s--you weren’t able to say how strange things felt unless you wanted to deal with the backlash: they’d all freak out, everyone would get awkward, people would feel like they had to pick sides. You wanted to avoid that at all costs.

You tried to push the thoughts out of your head, crammed into the back of a cab and finally found Jake and Adam inside the club with a few other uni friends. By the time you started questioning how rude and unsanitary it would be to take off your heels, Jessie squealed.

“Oh!” she perked up quickly, eyeing a text on her phone. “I forgot to mention that my coworker Jade is coming tonight, you’ll love her, she’s great. She just said she’s here,” she started scanning the crowd for her friend.

“How great?” Bryn wiggles her eyes in a suggestive manner, pulling a laugh from both of you.

“She’s fit--no clue who likes to sleep with though,” Jessie eyed Bryn. “You’ll have to battle Jake for her if you like her.”

“Jake always gets the cute girls,” Bryn let out a whine, you rolled your eyes and sipped at the vodka drink in hand before patting her on the shoulder.

“Only if they’re straight.”

“Right, which is always, lately.”

“Hi!” Jessie greeted, her arms wrapped around her new coworker when she made her way through the crowd. “Guys, this is Jade,” she tugged her into your circle.

“Hi,” Bryn said, a smile in the new girl’s direction. Long brown hair, darker skin, beautiful gold eye shadow. Bryn was smitten before you could even extend your hand in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Jade,” she nodded, “nice to meet both of you. I’ve heard a lot from Jessie--is the birthday boy here? Should I say hi before I get a drink?”

“Oh, he’s somewhere,” Jessie waved. “Go grab something and I’m sure he’ll turn up by the time you return.”

“Great, I’ll be back,” she waved at all three of you over her shoulder, disappearing into the crowd of bodies to head for the bar that was hidden somewhere behind the fog machine and flashing lights.

Bryn immediately grabbed Jessie’s elbow. “Are you kidding?” she said through gritted teeth. “She’s not fit--she’s incredibly fucking attractive and you didn’t think to give me a head’s up? I would have worn something more revealing.”

“Ouch,” Jessie tugged away from Bryn’s clutch and rubbed at the point of contact. “Relax--I told you, I have no idea if she’s gay.”

“Who’s gay?” Jake’s head was suddenly beside yours, Adam nudged his way in and draped an arm around Bryn’s shoulders.

“Aside from our lovely pal, here.”

“Why am I always the token lesbian?” she made a face at him.

Jake looked at you with confusion and then back to Bryn. “Because you’re the only gay one.”

“And thank God for that,” Bryn didn't miss a beat. “None of you are cool enough to be a lesbian.”

“I still don’t know who we were actually talking about,” Jake reminded.

“My coworker Jade--she just got here--she works in my department but she’s also still getting her PhD. She’s great but we don’t know if she’s gay.”

“And she’s coming back so everyone act natural,” Bryn rushed through the words, smiled again when Jade rejoined and introduced herself to the boys.

Jake and Adam were pulled away by friends, another round of shots at the bar in celebration. Jake had offered to buy you a drink, but you declined, still keen on watching Bryn try to gather up her cleavage to test Jade.

Besides, Jessie was rehashing her last failed relationship and it felt a bit rude to dip out right when she was getting to the best part of the story.

“He was a terrible human, irresponsible, lazy, going nowhere, honestly. But he had a huge dick--which was great, until he put it in Y/N’s little sister’s best friend.”

Jade let out a laugh at that and you saw Bryn roll her eyes--you’d both hated Oliver and it took Jessie a while to see his true colors.

“How on earth did that transpire?!” Jade asked.

“We were in uni--Katie, that’s Y/N’s sister--had come to town with a friend for Y/N’s birthday and we went to a club and a few drinks later we found them in the loo going at it.”

“We all knew it wouldn’t last but Jessie’s a stubborn one,” Bryn patted your friend on the shoulder.

“He was human garbage,” you agreed.

“Hey,” Jessi pointed a finger at you. “You’re not wrong, but that was the greatest sex I ever had. S’the type of stuff I play in my head late at night,” she wiggled her brows.

“Right,” Jade laughed. “As if that time you drunkenly made out with Harry Styles isn’t plenty of fuel for whatever fire you’re burning.” She lowered her voice when she said his name, looked at you and Bryn without the slightest clue to the weight of her words.

You blinked a few times, sure you’d misheard her over the noise of the dimly lit club. Your ears playing tricks or the vodka already straight to your head. “What?”

Jessie’s face was the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen it, her eyes doubled in size and her lips parted when you looked between the two of them.

“Did you not know that?” Jade giggled, an elbow into your side playfully. “Isn’t that the juiciest thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes landing back on Jessie. “It is.”

Jade turned to Jessie. “You have a friend from home who’s dating him now, right? Who is she?”

You weren’t trying to be dramatic, you certainly weren't trying to cause a scene. You had no other option than to head for the door to escape the music and the sticky floor and the sweaty bodies.

If anything, you needed fresh air and some water, perhaps to sober up and understand the implication of the words that her new coworker had just muttered with a sly smile.

You felt her grab at your wrist, yanking it out of her hand as you wove through groups of friends. “Don’t follow me,” you said over your shoulder, trying to keep your voice tempered enough to avoid any stares from other patrons.

This was all a part of the curse: now you were well known enough to have someone whip out their cell phone and document any hint of drama if they recognized who you were. That was the last thing you needed in a moment like this.

“Y/N, wait, you don’t even know what she’s talking about.”

“What’s there to know, Jessie?” You spoke over your shoulder, pushing the door open and immediately feeling the relief of the cool air on the sidewalk.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds,” she skid to a halt in front of you.

“Really? Because it sounds like once upon a drunken time you snogged my boyfriend.”

“Well obviously it was ages ago, it’s not like you were together when it happened!”

“Oh, thank God,” you said sarcastically, suddenly unfazed by the volume of your own voice. “Because it’s not like I was in love with him for decades before that.”

Bryn appeared in the night air, arms over her chest as she looked between the two of you with wide eyes. “Alright, everyone calm down--”

“Jessie kissed Harry!” You pointed at your friend’s chest, tone accusatory as you felt tears well in your eyes. "How am I supposed to be calm about that?"

Sure, maybe it was five years ago, ten, maybe even twelve for all you knew. But the reality was this: the boy who you’d been in love with had kissed your smart-mouth best friend before he ever kissed you and somehow along the lines both of them neglected to mention that this had occurred.

Your mind was racing now, breath picking up speed as you turned around on the sidewalk to pace. Is this why Jessie was always so adamantly against you and Harry ending up together? Is this why she got annoyed with you so often in uni when you’d bring him up and why she pushed you to just get over him?

You whipped your head back to Bryn. “Why are you not equally as shocked by this?” She couldn't answer your question before your lips parted in shock. “You knew? You knew that Jessie and Harry--”

"Will you quiet down?" Bryn reached for your arm and tugged with force, causing you to stumble to a stop in front of her. "The last thing you need is for people to overhear you and for there to be headlines all over The Sun tomorrow morning, yeah?"

You let out a grunt of frustration, paced along the concrete again when Bryn tried to speak some sense into you.

A moment of silence before Bryn let out a breath--apparently pleased at her own ability to shut you up. “In her defense, it was a really long time ago and they were both drunk and it was basically meaningless.”

“Basically?!” You whisper-hissed.

“It was meaningless, Y/N,” Jessie nodded, her words pleading. “We were drunk and you had been all upset about--”

“I was upset and that meant you should kiss the boy I was pining over for our entire lives?!” You got louder and more emotional with every word.

“Okay,” Jessie shrugged, her eyes flashing over to Bryn. “Maybe I should go.”

“Maybe you should go,” Bryn nodded in agreement.

“You should both go,” you looked at them quickly, emotions flooding through your brain. Your arms were still crossed, you paced on the sidewalk and unfortunately, the mindless counting of steps did nothing to calm your pounding heartbeat. One, two, three.

Bryn let out a disappointed sigh--you weren’t sure why she thought you’d want her to stay if she’d known and kept another secret from you. Was there no such thing as honesty in this friend group?

They both retreated back inside the club, you contemplated calling Harry and ripping into him. Who cared if he was in the studio or at someone’s house or somewhere on a jet over the Atlantic. You’d barely heard from him over the past few days and now this?

Jake passed Bryn and Jessie on their way in, his eyes curious when he placed an unlit cigarette between his lips. He let the door shut behind them, took a few steps over to lean against the exterior wall of the club and watch you pace. “Do I want to know?”

“No.”

He stifled a laugh, let his smirk turn into a frown when you looked at him with daggers in your eyes. “Okay--let me ask again. Are you alright?”

“No.”

“This will be a lot easier if you just tell me what’s going on--we all know I’m a great listener.”

You ignored his joke and let your shoulders rise towards the sky in exasperation. “Well, as if my relationship wasn’t already on the rocks between Harry’s schedule and my schedule and all the bullshit that happens when you date someone who’s stupid and famous--”

Jake was taken back by the words that bubbled out of you. He held a lighter up to the butt and nodded so you’d continue.

“Come to find out that apparently sweet old Jessie and stupid, stupid Harry got it on once.”

“Got it on?”

You shrugged, maybe you were being dramatic. “Made out.”

“Oh, in 2011? Or 2012?”

“It happened multiple times?!” You took a giant step toward him.

“No! No,” he laughed a little when he pulled away from you. “I just don’t remember the year.”

“Well for fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “Glad to hear everyone knew. You lot are a bunch of liars--pathetic, stupid, ignorant liars.”

He ignored the insults you hurled, likely chalking it up to the alcohol you’d already consumed and the frustration you’d been feeling towards Harry.

“Alright, I’m sure she probably said the same thing and I’m sure you didn’t believe her, but it really was not a big deal. They were drunk, it was stupid. Pretty sure Harry said the next morning it felt like kissing his sister. And he’s never said that about you, for the record.”

You rolled your eyes. Maybe not before. Maybe now he was feeling distant and not attracted to you and maybe now this was just another wedge that was coming between you.

“Why wouldn’t she tell me that? Why would none of you tell me that if it wasn’t a big deal?”

“Maybe because we all wanted to avoid this.”

You shot him a threatening look, to which he only sighed.

“Oh, the tangled web we weave,” his words sounded like they were from an American Soap Opera script--Alyssa had made you watch enough one weekend you’d practically memorized half of the plots. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it agains the brick wall.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shrugged a shoulder, the smug look on his face let you know he liked being the one you took drunk advice from. “You’ve known Harry forever, of course there’s going to be weird shit like this that pops up.”

“You say that as if him kissing Jessie is not a big deal.”

Another shrug.

“How is that not a big deal?!” You pressed.

“M’not saying it isn’t, I get how shitty it is that no one told you,” he was defensive now, words a bit slurred. “But don’t you think if there was something between Jessie and Harry, it would have already happened? I mean, come on, Jessie would never wait around like you did.”

“Ouch.”

“I just mean that she’s the most impatient human on the planet. You were extremely patient while Harry figured his shit out,” he tried to soften the blow.

His words stung a little, but you knew he was right. If they were actually interested in each other or if there was some kind of chemistry between them (aside from the way Jessie liked to smack him upside the head when he said something stupid), there was no way Jessie would be able to keep her big mouth shut or not force them into action long before you and Harry wound up the courage to sleep together after all those years.

“Haven’t you ever kissed anyone when you were drunk that you wouldn’t kiss sober?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, displeased with the way he was trying to turn it around. You let out a laugh when he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Everyone in uni, pretty much.”

“Right,” he shrugged. “M’not saying they shouldn’t have told you sooner, but, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

**

He’d gotten in late and a text message shortly after Jake talked some sense in you was the only reason you found yourself in an Uber headed for his after midnight.

He opened the door with a tired smile, one arm open wide to tug you into his side.

“You okay?” He looked down at you, eyes scanning your features, clearly aware that you were less than thrilled.

You contemplated holding it in. You figured that being drunk and tired and having not seen him in a few days was maybe not the best time to tell him you knew he kissed your friend and you knew that they all neglected to tell you the truth. Especially right after you just committed to staying in London for him.

“Fine,” you pulled away from him, dropped your jacket on the table in his foyer and kicked off your boots.

He shut the door and watched you hesitantly. “Yeah?”

“I know you kissed Jessie.”

His lips pushed forwards, formed the shape of an ‘o’ as if he’d been caught. He nodded slowly, trying to gauge your reaction as you headed for the couch.

“How’d you find out about that?”

“Jessie’s stupid friend, Jade. But good to know that everyone except for me is aware.”

You sat cross legged on the couch, crossed your arms as if you couldn’t be bothered to look him in the eyes. He stood motionless in the center of the room now, his brain likely flipping through his mental rolodex of apologies.

"Who's Jade?"

"Not the point, Harry!"

“Alright, listen, it was ages ago.”

“Ages?”

“2012, I think,” he waved a hand as if to remind you that it was almost a whole ten years ago.

“And why didn’t I hear about this from you or Jessica herself?”

He sighed and came to sit on the coffee table in front of you, elbows on his knees like he meant business. “Okay, in hindsight, I recognize that telling you probably would have been a good move, but back then I didn’t know that you had feelings for me.”

You let out a huff of air from your nose. His statement was fair--in 2012 you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of telling Harry that you’d been crushing on him since you were a teenager and that his rise to fame was simultaneously crushing your dreams of ending up with him.

In fact, at that point in time, you were almost avoiding Harry so as to ignore the feelings that bubbled inside of you every time you heard his band’s first big single on the radio.

You looked at him, wishing you could believe that he felt as sorry as he appeared, but the anger in your chest wasn’t easy to shake.

“What happened? How did you end up making out with her?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “It was some party at Adam’s house after one of our Manchester gigs.”

You blinked a few times, details falling into place. “So everyone was there? I was there? Your band was there?”

He shrugged his shoulders at that, voice softer. “Maybe Niall or Liam. But, yeah, you were there.”

You stood from the couch and started pacing again with your hands on your hips.

“So you mean to tell me that in Adam’s basement--the same one we’ve always partied in--you kissed Jessie Alby and she full on knew that I was into you and you’ve been dating me for,” you looked at a pretend watch on your wrist for dramatic effect, “a year and a half and you never thought it was important to tell me that you’ve hooked up with one of our best friends?”

He bit at his lip, a look of guilt in his eyes when you let out a laugh at his silence.

“Is she in love with you, Harry? Did you ever have feelings for her? Is that why she didn’t want us to get together? What else am I missing if I’m apparently in the dark about everything?!”

“You’re not in the dark about everything!” He stood up now, voice louder as you shook your head.

“Really? Because it seems like lately you’re constantly forgetting to tell me things. Dinners, meetings, trips!”

“You’re the one who didn’t tell me about your stupid cover with Gigi and the job in LA.”

“And you had the audacity to be upset with me about those things when you were sitting on the golden egg of secrets?!”

He rolled his eyes and walked towards the kitchen. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re drunk.”

“Does that make my feelings invalid, Harry? Does that mean I don’t get to be mad?”

“I didn't say that, Y/N.”

“Well you’re not saying a lot lately. We barely talk and we barely see each other and this isn’t how I expected this to be.”

He reached for a glass above the sink and then moved to fill it. “I’m busy, and you’re busy--and yeah, it might not be as easy as when I wasn’t on tour and wasn’t recording an album and we could basically do whatever we wanted in New York.”

“And now I found out that you made out with Jessie.”

He set the glass down on the counter and turned around to face you. “We were plastered, Y/N! I probably would have made out with Niall!”

“Great, that makes me feel better.”

“We went upstairs to get a drink and then she needed to plug her phone in--I don’t even know how it happened.”

“Did you purposely not tell me that it happened?”

“What do you mean?” He let out an exasperated breath. His hair was pushed back under a hat, a jumper donned his figure and his eyes looked tired from the overseas flight.

“Did you and Jessie agree to not tell me it happened?”

He shrugged, looked around the room as if to avoid your gaze and to avoid the truth. “I mean, I don’t know why she didn’t tell you back then, but--yeah, I mean, when you and I started hanging out in New York and started hooking up, yeah. I told her not to bring it up.”

“So I’m the laughing stock of our friend group?”

“No!” He threw his hands up, clearly confused as to how you got from A to Z so quickly.

“First they all know that I liked you back then and when we were kids, and then they knew eventually that you liked me back but decided to not tell me and lie,” you recounted, lifting a finger for each crime they'd committed.

“You were with Charlie and I told them not to tell you that I liked you,” he tried to reason.

You ignored his explanation and kept talking.

A third finger, “and then I make a fool of myself in 2015 in that stupid bathroom because Jessie decides it would be funny to lock us in there--”

“M’pretty sure that was her attempt at being a matchmaker.”

“And then they keep hanging out with you and lying about it after I said I didn’t want to see you anymore because I was so embarrassed.”

“You’re forgetting the part where we reconnected and fell in love,” he said this like he was bothered by you, constantly trying to have a comeback for your anger-fueled monologue.

“All the while you were lying to me and told our friends to lie to me, too! How am I supposed to know what’s true and what isn’t?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” he said it louder now, angrier and more harsh as he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jumper. “You’re upset and I get it but I don’t think this is that big of a deal because it was years ago. And we’re together and we’re happy.”

“Are we happy? Because I never see you! And when I brought up how hard it is the other night to be your girlfriend, you got annoyed. And you were mad at me for even considering this job in LA.”

“Because I don’t want my girlfriend to move to the other side of the planet!”

“Well I live down the street and barely see you now.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

A shrug of your shoulders. “Maybe this isn’t working.”

He looked up at you, lips parted like he wanted to speak but didn’t know how.

“Maybe this was all just a stupid teenage crush and maybe we should have just left it in New York. Because now neither of us knows how to actually talk to each other and apparently none of us can be honest.”

“That’s not true,” he said, his voice more steady now. “It’s just hard.”

“Well maybe I don’t want hard, Harry. Maybe I want it to be easy and nothing about being with you has been easy.”

“Alright, now you’re just being a dick,” he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the stairs.

“No I’m not! You kissed my friend!” You shouted at him. “You lied to me! And you made our friends lie!”

“Fine,” he shrugged, turning around in the living room. “I’m a liar and a terrible boyfriend, and if it’s so hard to be with me then maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Fine,” you said, walking past him and into the foyer to grab your coat. You tugged at your boots and he followed behind you.

“You’re actually going to leave?”

“You just said I shouldn’t be with you!”

“We’re fighting, Y/N! We’ll talk in the morning and we’ll figure it out. We’re busy and we’re stressed.” His voice was quieter now but he was still annoyed.

You shook your head. “We’ve been busy and stressed before, Harry. This is different.”

“Can we just wait to talk about all this until you’re sober and m'not jet-lagged?”

You tugged at the handle of his front door. “I’m calling an Uber.”

“Y/N, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you said, just to be defiant.

“So you’re going to stand here in my driveway and wait for an Uber?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m going to stand right here and wait until you get in it. And then I’m going to call you in the morning and we’re going to talk about this.”

“Maybe.”

He sighed again, leaned against the door frame and did what he said he would: he watched as you stood and kicked at the asphalt. Watched you climb in and drive away.

But he didn’t call the next morning.

**

December 23, 2011

You were stood in a big room at the Manchester Apollo, tables lined the walls with snacks and candy and water bottles. Jessie ran a hair through her straightened hair, Bryn was glued to the screen of her Nokia cell phone.

“S’a fancy in here,” you said.

“Seriously,” Jessie looked around. “S’like they proper made it.”

“I heard the place fits almost three thousand people,” Adam threw a handful of pretzels into his mouth and laughed. “Fucking nuts, innit? That many people want to see Harry dance around on stage?”

You smoothed out the dress that Jessie had convinced you to wear. You weren’t trying to impress him, no way. Clearly the universe had been conspiring against you long enough and at this point, you were considering any hope of a future with Harry to be a lost cause.

But that didn’t stop the flushing of your cheeks when he finally walked in, made his way down the line to hug each one of you and thank you for coming.

“Hi Smalls,” he smiled down at you, hands on your shoulders. “Have you grown?”

“Oh piss off,” you laughed. “An inch or two since the last time you came home, probably. Which was...what, a hundred years ago?”

“Alright, alright,” Harry rolled his eyes at you before he stepped back to see the others. The loss of contact between your skin and his made something drop in your stomach when he said: “I’m the worst friend ever, I know. You guys remember the boys, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jessie said with a casual shrug of her shoulder, one that let you know she wasn’t kidding when she said in the car she’d sleep with Zayn one day if it killed her.

Jake rounded the corner of the sofa and sat down, offered a wave to Liam when Adam and Niall embraced.

“Smalls, your sister isn’t here?”

You looked over to Harry, slightly embarrassed to realize he’d been watching you. His voice was quiet, directed at you rather than at the group as a whole. Your cheeks flushed a bit and you shifted your weight on your feet.

“Oh, no--my mum wasn’t too keen on the idea of me bringing a thirteen-year-old into Manchester and back, I guess.”

“No?” He smirked. “Can’t imagine why.”

You rolled your eyes, ignored the dimple that appeared on his cheek when Zayn and Adam took up residency on the far side of the table tennis set up.

“Alright shut it,” you crossed your arms.

“Are we giving Y/N shit about the time she lost Katie?”

Bryn could never pass up a good opportunity to laugh at you, and apparently, in front of Harry was no exception.

“I cannot believe I missed that,” Harry smiled.

“Better get used to it, H, you’re missing a lot these days,” you shot back.

Sure--losing Katie in a crowd at Gulliver’s World Theme Park wasn’t your best move as an older sister. But the only thing worse than the panic that flooded you entirely was the fact that your friends were yet to stop giving you shit about the mishap. Your parents were angry enough that you basically never wanted to be in charge again, but the chorus of constant we can’t believe you, how on earth did you was enough to wish you’d never even agreed to let her tag along on the day trip.

Harry got distracted eventually, though, he was tugged in a few different directions to get his hair touched up and to change his shoes. You were ushered out into the theatre and you did your best to fight the butterflies when they came on stage.

The idea of girls screaming for your friend, a boy you’d long dreamt about snogging, was enough to leave you in a state of shock on the drive back home. You piled into the back of Jake’s car and ignored the way Jessie smirked at you over her shoulder.

“Can I help you?”

“You love him,” she said quietly, thankfully Jake and Adam were too busy in the front discussing the upcoming plan for the night.

“I don’t love him,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve moved on, he’s...a bit busy lately.”

Jessie stifled a laugh and made a knowing face at you. “Oh come on, you expect me to believe that him getting famous makes you like him less?”

“Oh leave her alone,” Bryn piped up from behind you. “Haven’t you been texting Nolan Truscott a lot lately?”

“Maybe,” you smiled at both of them.

“He’s insanely fit,” Bryn nodded.

“Says the one who likes girls,” Jessie’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t know a looker when I see one,” she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You laughed and hoped they’d drop it, but on a rainy night speeding down the M6, you’d never be so lucky.

“You’re really saying you’re over Harry, like, totally not into him anymore?”

You shrugged, looked out the window for a minute at the passing farmland. “Of course I am. M’not an idiot that’s going to pine over someone who uses too much hair product now.”

“You don’t have to be,” Bryn said with a small smile, almost like she could see through your joke.

“Good for you,” Jessie nodded, apparently in full support of your words. “Nolan’s fit, Harry’s an idiot, always has been as we know. Cheers to a new Y/N that has moved on.”

She held up an imaginary glass and clinked it against your head, you elbowed her playfully and Bryn told both of you to shut it when Call Me Maybe came on the radio.

Jessie didn’t give you any more trouble and soon enough you were in Adam’s basement, a small Christmas tree in the corner dressed with ornaments you’d all decorated over the years. You’d already taken two shots, which is why it felt harder with each passing second to pull your eyes off the back of Mollie Amsbury’s head.

“Y’alright?” Bryn popped up beside you, her gaze following yours to see Mollie and Harry chatting near the antique pinball machine. Adam always said it was his dad’s pride and joy.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Fine.”

“You sure?”

“Sweet Brynnie,” you smiled over at her. “I am positively, absolutely chuffed to be here and to spend this lovely evening with our wonderful peers.”

She looked at you like you were crazy. “And I should believe you why?”

“Because I’ve decided that I’m going to kiss Zachary Bramhall tonight.”

“What happened to Nolan Truscott?”

“He’s not here,” you shrugged. “Visiting his gran in Brighton for the holiday.”

Bryn’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she realized that you hadn’t given up altogether on whatever romance was possibly budding with Nolan, you just needed an eligible bachelor for the evening.

“Is Zach even here?” She scanned the room quickly for his dirty blond locks.

“He went upstairs to get me another drink,” you said casually.

“Oh,” Bryn smiled up at you, “I like the sound of that.”

“And when he gets back, I’m going to plant one on him right here, right in the sight-line of our pal Harold.”

“Oh,” Bryn’s face fell, concern etched in her features. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

“Relax, Bryn. S’fine. He’ll kiss me and perhaps it will strum up some jealousy in Harry and maybe he’ll feel so inclined to step in.”

“Or he’ll not realize that you’re scheming because you’ve never actually told him how you feel and so he’ll just let you kiss Zachary Bramhall like it’s none of his business.”

You looked down at your friend, unimpressed with her desire to poke holes in your plan.

“Or he’ll realize he loves you,” she acquiesced, her tone made it obvious she didn't believe her own words. “And perhaps he’ll propose marriage in his drunken stupor and impregnate you with his offspring right here on Adam’s sofa.”

You blinked a few times when she let out a laugh at her own joke. “What’s taking Zach so long, anyway? I just wanted a vodka-cran,” you looked around the room to gain focus.

“He’s not down here,” Bryn looked around again.

“Come with me,” you tugged her sleeve and pulled her towards the stairs, bounding up and towards the kitchen with speed in hopes that you could lure him back down to the basement and move forward with the evening as planned.

Bryn knocked into your back though, when you stopped at the top of the stairs and found Zachary Bramhall kissing Emma Thornton in the corner by the refrigerator, his hands around her waist and hers in his hair.

“Oh,” Bryn said when she peered over your shoulder. “He looks busy.”

You nodded, smiled down at Bryn and then came face to face with Harry as he climbed the stairs behind you, Jessie stumbling in tow.

“Hi,” he greeted, eyes catching yours for a second as you tried to blink away whatever emotion threatened to spill over. His hair was messy after the show, his eyes looked tired and his cheeks were red from the alcohol. He slung an arm around Bryn in his drunken state and then looked back at you.

“Hi, I--uh, m'gonna get some air,” you informed them all. Bryn didn’t chase after you, likely to downplay whatever reaction you were having and to not let Jessie or Harry in on your scheming.

You pushed the front door open, welcomed the crisp night air as you moved towards the bench along the front path to Adam’s house. There was a dusting of snow on the ground, mostly melted from a storm a few days before.

“Hi,” Jake’s voice was by the front door, he shut it behind him and brought his hands up to his face to breathe warm air on them. “S’fucking frigid out here--you better have a good reason for storming off.”

“I’m not storming off,” you said.

“No? Because it kind of looked that way when you stormed out of the kitchen and came out into the freezing winter night,” he shrugged as he came to sit beside you. “But what do I know?”

You laughed a little, leaned your head on his shoulder. “I’m an idiot.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I was going to kiss Zachary Bramhall and then he was kissing Emma Thornton.”

He looked over his shoulder and in one of the illuminated windows. “Yeah they were really going at it, huh?”

You sighed. “Whatever, s’fine. I’m stupid, he’s stupid, Harry’s stupid.”

“Oh,” he nodded, drawing out the one-syllable word when he looked up at the stars. “That’s what this is about.”

“No, it’s not. It’s about the opposite,” you told him.

He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brow, an invitation for you to continue.

“We’re going to finish A-levels soon and we’ll go off to uni and I am going to find someone so amazing I’ll forget he ever existed.”

“Yes you will, Smalls.”

He put an arm around your shoulder to comfort you before he let out a sigh. You did the same but then stood up.

“Alright, enough sulking,” you said. “It’s freezing.”

He laughed and stood up. “Thank fuck,” he nodded, followed you back inside.

The living room was dark except for a light coming from down the hall--the direction of Adam’s bedroom. You heard laughter, Jessie’s voice was audible before she stumbled out. “Oh hi,” she clutched a hand to her heart, “you scared me.”

Harry appeared behind her, a smile on his face faded when he saw Jake’s arm around your shoulders. “Where were you two?”

“Just having a chat outside,” you said with an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Where were you two?”

“Harry left his phone in Adam’s room,” Jessie said quickly. “Wanted to make sure no one got a hold of it.”

Jake let out a laugh, “too many celebrity tits on there?”

“Oh piss off,” Harry laughed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

“Alright,” Jessie waved them off, taking a step forward to link her arm in yours. “Need another drink?”

**

Present day

It was afternoon when he texted, almost time for supper when your phone buzzed and you stared at it on the coffee table. Bryn was sat beside Jake on the floor, they both watched and seemed to silently ask ‘are you going to read that?’

Your eyes were swollen from emotion, Bryn had smudged eyeliner on her cheeks, Jake took another swig of water before saying: “open it.”

Harry S (4:56pm): I’ve been asleep all day, feel like shit from the time change. Let me know if you want to talk.

“If I want to talk?” You looked at them, tossing the phone onto the floor. Maybe there wasn’t a right or wrong way to have a fight with your significant other, but he didn’t even seem to be trying to say the right thing or repent for his wrongdoing.

“Well at least he hasn’t been ignoring you all day,” Jake shrugged.

You let out a sigh, leaned back on the couch and squeezed your eyes shut.

“Not for nothing, Smalls, but you said last night that things have been bad between the two of you lately.”

Your head snapped up, embarrassed that drunk Y/N had let it slip. Bryn’s forehead wrinkled and she looked at you.

“No--it’s fine, it’s just--I don’t know,” you groaned.

What were you supposed to say? The job offer in LA was such a big part of it that without that detail, the rest of the story might not make any sense.

“Smalls,” Jake eyed you more seriously now.

“We’ve been distant,” you shrugged, pulling your knees up to your chest as you contemplated what other information to divulge. “He’s been busy at work and I’ve been busy and I didn’t tell him at first about the Gigi interview and he was annoyed about that but he’s just been moody lately. I mean, you saw him the other week at dinner. He practically had a strop before we showed up and--”

“And what?” Bryn asked.

“It’s just been getting harder. His job makes it all really difficult.”

“You just need to talk to him, Y/N,” she reassured. “I believe you, and I can only imagine, but you and Harry have something so special.”

“Do we?”

“Of course you do,” Jake said, laying down on the ground to stretch his hungover limbs. “And the fact that he and Jessie kissed is not a good enough reason to not be with him.”

Right, of course that’s how this appeared to them. Like you were being dramatic and stupid and simply overreacting to a drunken mistake a few years back.

You didn’t reply, you didn’t have the energy to explain yourself anymore than you already had. Jake closed his eyes and Bryn got up to turn on the kettle. After fifteen minutes had passed and you were almost certain Jake was asleep, there was a knock on the door.

Bryn froze, you froze, and Jake’s eyes opened instantly as he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Y/N? S’me,” his voice was muffled through the door.

You looked at Bryn and Jake and they hopped into action. Bryn grabbed her purse on the end table and Jake reached for his coat, they headed for the door and opened it, greeting him on their way out.

“Hi Harry, bye Harry,” Jake said, a clap on his shoulder when Bryn offered a grin.

“Good luck! Love you both.”

He stepped inside awkwardly, shoved his hands in the pockets of his coat after he shut the door quietly behind them.

“Hi.”

“What do you want?”

“To talk about everything you said last night," he said this as if it was obvious.

You rolled your eyes and padded over to the kitchen to pour a cup of tea. He looked like he was about to ask for some, but you emptied the contents of the kettle into your cup before setting it back down.

A fake smile, “sorry, none left.”

“Y/N, what’s happening?”

“You’re the one who kissed someone else.”

“Before I knew you had feelings for me.”

“One of my best friends--”

“I should have told you.”

“You should have,” you nodded, hands around your teacup.

He was quiet for a minute and you wondered if Jake and Bryn actually went inside Jake’s flat across the hall or if they had their ears pressed to the front door.

“Do you actually think this isn’t working?”

You dropped his gaze and looked to the floor, “do you think it is working?”

“I mean,” he shrugged, “it’s been hard lately. I get that. But I don’t think that means we shouldn’t be together.”

“You’re busy all the time. You’re always on your phone and your job sucks, okay? I’m sorry, I know you love it. But it’s difficult to be the one who always has to move her schedule to fit around yours.”

“It’s not easy being me, y’know.”

You scoffed, walked out of the kitchen and into the living room as you shook your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Unbelievable?”

“Yes, Harry, it’s unbelievable to me that you have the nerve to say that after you’ve cancelled our plans, been late to events, and then neglected to tell me that you and Jessie have history.”

“You’re being ridiculous! Do you hear yourself? It was so long ago I barely even remember it.”

“Happy for you.”

“You’re seriously going to end our relationship over this?”

You turned to look at him quickly, a lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes.

Thai food, drunk nights at Adam’s, concerts in New York and birthday dinners. Sundays lounging in his bed, your trip to LA and the way he hummed along to the radio. The happy moments existed and that was something you’d never deny. But loving Harry had long been a difficult journey and one that often left you wounded and insecure.

His forehead was wrinkled, he kept his eyes trained on you as if you held enough power in your hands to shatter his world into pieces.

But it wasn’t that simple, and maybe you should have told him. Instead, you nodded.

“Yes.”

join the tag list here | talk to me | the playlist

tag list: @thurhomish @styles217 @ursamajor603 @mleestiles @determined-overthinker @g0bl1nqueen @hsfics @sing-me-a-song-harry @theresnooneheretosave @cronias13 @rainbowbutterflyboy @unknown7549 @harryspirate

AN: OKAY do not hate me it's only chapter 3 everyone RELAX! But don't relax cause we're just getting started lmao (also listen to the playlist pls I love linking songs to chapters for you to really feel the vibes)

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

**

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

tag list: @sunflowerryvol6 @trulymadlykiki @kaybee87 @thurhomish @tpwkhoney @70s-harry @la-cey @sing-me-a-song-harry @morethanamelodyy @theresnooneheretosave @ihearthemcallingforyou @sunfloweratheart @g0bl1nqueen @millennial-teenybopper @rainbowparadiseharry @justsaying20 @andwhenshesays @harryinsweatersandbandanas @harrys-cherriesss @harrys-cherrry @cronias13 @burberryharold @15christyxoxo @dayxoxodreamer @stepping-into-the-light @mvaldez7821 @barnestann @styles217 @fineelineee @ursamajor603 @tayrenea @hayyyayy @mellamolayla @lovelylemonadaddict @harrystyle-ish @harryspirate @apples2019 @rainbowbutterflyboy @goldeng1rl8 @elisassblog @staceystoleyourheart @themonsterheloved @greatestview @splendidsunsetsx @awomanindeniall @bequietdee @greeneyesandtea @sonofabitchstyles @sunsetcurve-h @dangerousdelusiondreamland @hsfics @abundanceofsoph @golden-asoab @giveyourheartabreak-xx