Living In Daydreams...

With a defeated sigh you join the line and pull out your phone to kill the time with some empty scrolling, but a notification pops up on your screen right when you open TikTok.

HARRY: where are uuuuu???

Y/N: in line, u?

HARRY: front of the line, come join us!!

Chewing on your bottom lip you take a look at the line ahead of you. Normally you hate those who cut the line and join their friends, but you only have about forty minutes before your next class, so you’re kind of in a rush. Taking a deep breath you step out of the line and start walking ahead. 

As you near the front you immediately spot him. 

Harry has been your best friend since sixth grade when he transferred to your school and he was sat next to you. On his first day you spotted the stack of Pokemon cards in his bag, which you pointed out excitedly. His ears turned bright red and he tried to make you believe it wasn’t his, but then you told him you collected them as well and if he wanted to you could exchange cards. And boom, just like that you became the best of friends. 

Even though in high school it started to become pretty obvious that the two of you would lean into different crowds, Harry started playing hockey on a more serious level, so he became a popular athlete in school while you decided to explore your love for art and everything related. He spent most of his time in practice on the ice and you were a frequent in the art room painting or drawing or in the library reading books about art history. 

But despite the diversion, you still remained friends. Not once did you feel like he felt embarrassed to hang out with someone who wasn’t as popular as he was, he invited you to every party, every outing and always made sure to spend time with you even when you both were busy with your studies. Now you’re college juniors, Harry is an Econ major and captain of the hockey team, a damn good one even despite the doubts whether a junior could take up on the role and you’re a Fine Arts major with the intention of starting your masters in Studio Art soon, but you’re still the best of friends, even though neither of you collects Pokemon cards anymore. 

As you walk up to him and his teammates at the front of the line you get a few dirty stares thrown at you from girls, but you try your best to ignore. It’s been like that since forever, plenty of girls have shown their jealousy over how close you are with Harry, girls who wanted his attention, but ended up not even making an impression on him, though it was never like that between you and him. 

“Hey,” you tap on his shoulder lightly. His head whips around and a goofy smile stretches across his face as he sees you. 

“Honey Lemon!” he beams, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side as he pulls you next to him in line. The nickname will never stop being silly, he is the only one calling you that. He started using it after he found out Big Hero 6 was your favorite animated movie and Honey Lemon was your favorite character in it.

“She is kinda like you, silly and sweet,” he told you and then just started calling Honey Lemon after that. 

“Want to share a cinnamon roll with me?” he asks, eyeing today’s menu.

“Sure,” you nod, smiling. 

You all get your food and then take one of the last open tables. The rowdy hockey players always draw attention when there are more than three of them at the same place and sitting with them often makes you feel like you shouldn’t be sharing a table with them, but they all have been pretty welcoming towards you. 

“Y/N, you still don’t need a naked model for any of your classes?” Niall, one of the left wingers on the team asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“Still no. But if you’re so keen on showing yourself, I’m sure some of the girls would love to have you for a private session,” you chuckle, shaking your head. 

“Stop being a manwhore, Niall,” Harry grunts into his sandwich. 

“I just want to share my beauty with everyone, is that a crime?” he scoffs dramatically. 

“Everything you do is a crime,” Mitch, the goalie says, making everyone laugh at the table. 

“Y’all are just jealous!” Niall waves his hands around grinning. 

Harry just shakes his head at his friend as he finishes his sandwich, pulling the cinnamon roll closer so he can cut it in half. 

“So are you coming on Friday?”

You furrow your eyebrows, taking another bite of your greek salad.

“What’s on Friday?” 

“Told you we are having a party before the season starts. Well, Niall wanted to have a party before all our weekends are occupied by games for a while,” he adds with a huffed laugh. 

“Ah yeah. Right. Do I need to be there though?” you ask with a cautious smile. It’s not that you’re against parties, you go to them, quite often, but sometimes you feel very out of place and your anxiety tends to kick in whenever you notice that Harry is keeping an eye on you, staying by your side instead of doing his own thing. It kinda feels like he needs to babysit you. 

“Of course,” he nods confidently. “I want you there, so you need to be there.”

“Alright,” you sigh in defeat. “Can I bring Samira?” you ask, referring to your roommate. 

“Sure. Do you want me to pick you guys up?”

“We are capable of taking that twenty minute walk on our own,” you chuckle, bumping a shoulder against his. 

While you finish your part of the cinnamon roll you listen to the boys bickering about something that happened at practice in the morning, they always find something to argue about. Leaning back in your seat you just casually run your eyes over the students around when your gaze meets an icy blue pair. 

Wynter Harris has the ability to make you feel like you’re about to drop dead just by her gaze. If you have the chance you would rather avoid her at any cost, especially since she started looking at you like you’re the devil herself. That correlated with Harry hooking up with her about a year ago and then not wanting to date her, which apparently hurt her ego pretty badly. You have an inkling feeling that she thinks you and Harry have something going on and that’s why he dumped her. Which is just absolutely ridiculous to you. 

Well, you can’t deny that Harry is awfully handsome, he is tall and fit and he’s been collecting tattoos for a few years now, giving him a badboyish charm. Additionally to that he is the kindest and funniest person you know, falling for him would be the easiest thing on Earth in your opinion, but you never let that happen to you. If the societal differences weren’t enough, you’re nothing like the girls Harry was associated with throughout the years. Unlike the pretty, cheerleaders and puck bunnies he has hooked up with over the years you carry quite some extra weight, you don’t go around flaunting your thick thighs and soft lower belly, you like to hide your body in baggy, oversized clothes, though your full boobs are definitely considered an asset. As long as you can keep them tamed of course, because once your bra is off, they sag a few levels lower on your abdomen. 

Your body has been one of your biggest insecurities probably since you were a teenager and gained those stubborn extra pounds you haven’t been able to get rid of ever since. And guys Harry, the star athletes simply don’t go after girls like you, so you spared yourself the heartbreak and talked some sense into yourself before a crush could even spark inside you. 

“Want some more?” Harry’s question pulls you out of your thoughts as you tear your gaze away from Wynter. He is offering you the last bite of his part of the cinnamon roll, the middle of it which is the absolute best, but your appetite has disappeared.

“No, I’m good,” you shake your head. “I gotta head to my next class, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” 

Standing from your seat you grab your bag and swing it over your shoulder before taking my tray. Harry assesses you with a curious look, but you brush it off with a quick smile before waving goodbye to him and the boys. 

You will not let Wynter’s death glare send you down a spiral, you tell yourself as you exit the cafeteria and head over to your next class. 

***

“Be honest, do I look like a racoon?”

Samira turns to you from her mirror, referring to her eye makeup, that turned out just a tad bit too smokey. 

“Um, maybe a little bit. Wipe some off on the lid,” you suggest and she nods, turning back to her mirror. 

It’s Friday evening, you’re getting ready for the party Harry said he needed you to go to. Luckily, Samira didn’t need much convincing about attending, she broke up with her boyfriend of two years in the summer and she’s been living her best single life since then, taking any opportunities to mess around at parties. 

“Do you have your eyes on someone for tonight?” you ask, smirking as you step over to your dresser, trying to figure out what to wear. 

“There is this cute guy I have microeconomics together with this semester, would be nice if he was there,” Sami says with a little dance that makes you chuckle. “Are you gonna be glued to your boy’s side again?”

“Hey! I’m not glued to his side and he is not my boy,” you defend yourself, ignoring a funky feeling deep in your gut as you pull out a black top. 

“Girl, keep telling yourself that, but he is your boy and you’re his girl,” she scoffs.

Samira has been convinced since the day you met in freshman year that you and Harry are in love with each other, even though you’ve told her millions of times that you’re just friends, nothing more. She doesn’t believe it. 

“Whatever,” you mutter. “Though I swear if we were anything, Wynter Harris would probably murder me in my dreams,” you huff out a laugh. 

“She’s just jealous,” Sami shrugs, standing from her spot. She turns her face to you with a questioning look, referring to her makeup, to which you give her a nod. “That girl is so obsessed with Styles, it’s kinda scary,” she adds with an eye-roll. “Wear that with those light-washed jeans,” she says, pointing at the top you chose for tonight.

“But those are so tight,” you frown.

“Yeah, and your ass looks great in them. Wear it!”

You’re hesitant, but give in, feeling kind of out of your comfort zone, but also excited about your outfit. It’s definitely not one of your baggy fits, but you don’t let yourself dwell on the way your tummy is showing or how your backrolls make an appearance if the fabric of your shirt sticks to you. 

By the time you’re done getting ready, Samira is already halfway out the door.

“You look hot, by the way,” she says, adjusting her hoop earrings in the mirror.

“I look… normal,” you reply, tugging lightly at the hem of your top for the tenth time.

“Just take the fucking compliment!” she groans, but you know she’s just joking. 

“Fine, thank you! You look hot too.”

“Now let’s get our hot asses going!” She cheers, pulling you towards the hallway. 

The party is exactly as you expected. Loud, crowded, warm and full of alcohol, so just like an average party. 

Samira hooks her arm with yours as you make your way into the kitchen to get yourselves a drink. She is quick to mix up something sweet for the two of you and bumping your cups together you take a long chug. That’s when Harry appears, his eyes landing on you instantly.

“There is my Honey Lemon!” he throws his hands up, like he hasn’t seen you earlier that day when you had coffee together. “Already drinking, very well,” he grins, wrapping his arms around your shoulders as he pulls you into a bear hug. 

His masculine scent instantly fills your nostrils, mixing a bit of his own smell, which you can’t quite deter, but you could pick out of a million anytime. 

You laugh against his shoulder before he lets go of you, though lets one of his arms around your shoulders. 

“Sami, good to see you,” he nods at your roommate.

“You too, Styles. Ready for the season?” she asks. Samira is actually a big hockey fan, she has two older brothers and they both played hockey growing up. 

“Never been more ready,” he grins confidently, giving your shoulder a squeeze. 

A moment later more of his teammates flood into the kitchen, carrying pizza boxes, so chaos takes over the room as everyone tries to get a slice.

“You hungry?” Harry asks, leaning closer to your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“I’m good,” you shake your head. His arm falls from around your shoulder as he fetches two slices for himself. 

“Hey, I think I just saw Eli,” Samira says to you, craning her neck to peek into the living room. You give her a puzzled look. “The guy from microeconomics. Would you hate me if I left you for a bit?” she asks with doe eyes.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry,” Harry answers for you with his mouth full of food. 

“It’s not like I need babysitting,” you give him a look, before turning back to Sami. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“Text me if you need me or want to leave,” she says, giving you a quick hug before disappearing. 

“You sure you don’t want some?” Harry asks, holding up the slice in his hand when he catches you eyeing the pizzas on the kitchen island. Truth is you’d love to have some, but you’ve been trying to cut back on fast food. 

“No, I wouldn’t eat a whole slice,” you shake your head and then Harry holds his slice out to you.

“Take a bite, I know you want a taste,” he grins and he looks so goofy with his greasy lips and slightly hazy eyes from the drinks he has probably had, you can’t help but chuckle at him before accepting his offer and taking a bite. 

“Mm, it’s so good,” you moan as the cheese melts on your tongue. 

Harry lets out a soft laugh at your reaction, shaking his head, but he doesn’t say anything else. 

Once most of the pizza is gone Niall demands a round of shots and you are no exception, though Harry switches glasses with you, since he got one with less vodka in it, then he also pours you some juice in a cup.

“I know you hate the taste of vodka,” he smiles at you.

“Thanks,” you smile back. 

After the round of vodka Niall convinces you to have another one with him and that’s enough to make you feel tipsy. Soon, you all move to the backyard where the beerpong tables are set up and most of the boys decide to join the game. Harry asks if you want to play, but you’d rather just stay on the side and he stays with you. There are quite some people around, making it a bit crowded so you’re kind of pressed against Harry, but somehow you end up standing in front of him, with his arms around your shoulders, pulling you against his hard chest. It’s not the first time he holds you like this, but for some reason, you’re awfully aware of just how much he envelops you with his body. 

Then at one point a girl comes up beside the two of you.

“Harry! Hi! Haven’t seen you in ages!” The blondie taps a hand on his bicep, smiling up at him with flirty eyes. 

“Hi Charlotte,” he nods with a polite smile, but his gaze quickly falls back to the game, though that doesn’t bother Charlotte.

“Remember how you promised to do a round of shots with me at that sorority party?”

She is blinking up at him innocently, pushing her chest out in a pretty obvious way, while she hasn’t even acknowledged your existence. Suddenly, your stomach twists. 

“Uh, yeah, I remember,” Harry chuckles softly. His arms loosen around you, but he keeps his hands on your shoulders. 

“Maybe we can do that now,” Charlotte suggests. You turn to face Harry.

“Go on, I’ll just keep watching the game,” you smile up at him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He hesitates for another second before nodding. Charlotte claps happily and as soon as Harry’s hands fall from your shoulder she is holding onto him, tugging him inside. You watch them disappear in the crowd with your teeth sunk into your bottom lip. 

Fuck, why do you feel like throwing up suddenly? Maybe you had too much to drink. Not enough to make you feel sick though, so why are you feeling like shit?

You stick around for a little longer, moments go by, Harry doesn’t return and the game starts to bore you, so you decide to have a quick bathroom break. Pushing your way through the people inside you’re heading to the bathroom downstairs, but when you see the line you decide to use Harry’s bathroom upstairs. 

There are noticeably less people as you walk up the stairs, half the hockey team lives in this big renovated townhouse and Harry’s room is the last one in the hallway, so you just keep walking past the doors, but then stop in your tracks when you spot him.

And not just him, Charlotte is with him. 

They are standing in front of Harry’s room, she has her arms around his neck, breasts pressed against his chest as she is seductively saying something leaning close to his ear. Harry stands straight, one hand on her hip, the other one in his pocket. It doesn’t seem like he is very into the situation, but he is definitely not against it. 

Your stomach drops when Charlotte presses a kiss to his neck and you turn around before you could witness her pull him into his room. 

You practically sprint down the stairs, the need to use the bathroom long forgotten. Your chest is burning and it feels like you’re carrying a rock inside it. You don’t stop until you’re outside, rounding the house and plastering your back against the wall in the dark where no one can see you. 

What the hell is wrong with you? Why are you reacting like you just saw your worst nightmare? It was just Harry being seduced by a girl, nothing new, it’s not the first time he hooks up with someone at a party, though he doesn’t do it as often as one would expect him to.

And you have never actually seen him do this. 

You know about most of his little adventures by him telling you about them, but you never actually witnessed any of them happening, while you sat in first row now with him and Charlotte and it triggered something inside you. Something you’ve been very adamant to deny. But now it’s crashing down on you all of a sudden.

You feel this way because you actually do have a crush on Harry.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, burying your face in your hands. This is bad. This is so bad on so many levels.

You can’t be into your best friend, because that’s all he should be. Your best friend. It’s what he sees you as for sure, so your end can’t change. He would never look at you more than just a friend, you are nowhere near his league.

Star athletes and popular guys like him are not into girls like you. Girls who blend into the crowd, girls who are not thin like models and girls who lack any confidence. It’s just not how things go, no matter how long you’ve known each other. 

You press your palms harder against your face like you can physically push the thought back in. It doesn’t work though, of course it doesn’t work. 

“No,” you whisper to yourself, shaking your head. “No, no, no.”

You refuse to sink into this, you’ve been suppressing it all along for a very good reason and you won’t let this wreck you right now. 

You take a deep breath, then another and another one before forcing yourself to move away from the wall and walk back inside. You plan on finding Samira, hoping she might be up to hang out some with you some or maybe head home, but the first person you run into is Harry. 

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You blink at him, suddenly the sight of him feels like a stab into your chest. But at least he is not in his room all over Charlotte right now. 

“I was just getting air,” you say quickly, forcing a smile onto your face, that probably doesn’t look too convincing, because Harry narrows his eyes at you. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah!” you nod. “’m fine,” you reassure him, softer this time. “Just… a bit overwhelmed.”

That’s when you spot Samira across the room, talking to two girls, no boy near.

“I’ll go hang out with Sami for a bit,” you nod towards your roommate. Harry follows your gaze, then looks back at you and the worry is obvious in his eyes, but he doesn’t question you. 

“Okay. See you later?”

“Sure,” you nod with a smile, swallowing the ball in your throat. 

“And if you’re leaving let me know.”

“I will,” you nod again and then walk past him, afraid that if you keep looking at him you might break. 

You join Sami and the two girls she knows from her statistics class from last semester, though you completely zone out of their conversation. Sami notices your behavior, but you just brush it off and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, this time actually. 

Luckily the line has shortened for the one downstairs, so you don’t have to use Harry’s. While you’re in you keep thinking about how you need to get your head straight. You can’t let this get out of hands or you might ruin your friendship with him, which is simply not an option. 

When you step out of the bathroom you’re so deep in thoughts that you run right into someone. A very tall and muscular someone. 

“Shit, sorry,” you mumble, stepping back, while the stranger’s hands come to your arms steadying you.

“Are you up by the beerpong table?” his deep voice chuckles and you blink up at him.

“What?”

“Just thought you might be next in the game, that’s why you’re in such a hurry.”

His words finally process in your mind and you shake your head with an airy chuckle.

“No, sorry, I was just… thinking about something.”

“Hey, do I know you?” he asks, his hands falling from your arms. At his words you look up at him too and he looks familiar as well, but it doesn’t click at first. Then his eyes light up, but there’s a bit of mischief in them. “Ah, you’re… Y…?” “Y/N,” you help him out and that’s when you realize who he is. 

Mason Thorne was on the hockey team up until the end of last year. The guy was a great player, but even greater trouble, he was doing some pretty hard partying and ended up trashing the entrance of the building where the dean’s office is. It was a huge scandal, not his first either. It happened when their coach finally told Harry that from this fall he’ll be captain since their previous one was a senior, finishing up his studies. Because of his future position Coach Bernard asked Harry’s thoughts on Mason too. He said he was a liability, cares way too much about parties and it affects his performance as well, so Harry advised to kick him out. 

It wasn’t his decision though, but at last that’s what Coach Bernard ended up doing. As far as you know Mason understood the decision and he’s been holding back on the partying lately even though he is not getting back on the team.

“Yes, you’re friends with Harry, right?” he smiles and you have to admit he is charming. 

But not as charming as Harry.

“Yep,” you nod with a tight-lipped smile. Mason’s gaze runs down your body, which has you feeling uncomfortable for a second. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Would you want to catch up over a drink maybe?” he asks with a flirty smile and at first you almost turn him down. 

But then you think about it for a moment. This is exactly what you need, someone to take your mind off of this whole Harry thing, some flirting, some ego-boosting and judging from Mason’s look that’s exactly what he is offering you right now.

“Sure,” you nod at last. “Why not?”

***

Usually after parties the boys like to go out for dinner in a chinese place close to campus, so you’re not surprised when Harry invites you and Samira out as well. 

You’ve made a promise to yourself to carry on with everything as normal, so you accept. 

When the two of you arrive the boys are already there, looking tired and hungover, but as rowdy as usual. 

“Hello Honey Lemon,” Harry greets you when you take the seat beside him.”

“Hi,” you smile, ignoring the twist in your stomach. 

The nice old Chinese lady comes and takes your orders and then the conversation around the table carries on as you wait for the food. Harry leans in closer, so only you can hear him. 

“Saw you talking to Mason Thorne last night.”

You’re actually surprised, not just that he noticed you talking to Mason, but that he is now bringing it up. 

“Yeah, we kinda caught up a bit,” you shrug, hoping to sound casual, though your nerves are definitely on edge. Harry hums, but doesn’t say anything. “Why?” you ask.

“No reason,” he says, too fast. Then, after a pause: “Just… be careful around him, yeah?”

You blink with a frown.

“Careful?”

Harry exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “He’s just not—” he stops himself, rephrasing. “He’s not exactly the best guy to be around.”

“Because of him being kicked out of the team? He’s been actually cutting back on the partying since then.”

“I know, but he had weird things going on when he was still on the team,” he shrugs, grabbing his water and taking a sip. You are not liking this conversation, defense rises in your gut.

“Since when do you care who I talk to at parties?” you ask, crunching your nose. 

“No need to get all worked up, just thought I might tell you,” he shrugs again. “I know you’re capable of deciding who is worthy of your time,” he adds and that part softens you a little. 

Your heart aches, because it’s him who is actually the most worthy of your time, but knowing that it’s not gonna happen, you need to force yourself to move on and right now Mason is your best chance for that.

“I am,” you nod, but it’s more like an assurance to yourself, rather than him. Talking to Mason was kind of fun last night, he has a sharp tongue and flirted quite a lot with you, even asked for your number at the end of the night and he has already texted you. 

And now as you sit beside Harry you make the decision to do everything you can to forget about your feelings for him. Starting with giving a chance to someone who isn’t him.

***

You and Mason agreed to meet up for a coffee on Tuesday. You’ve been texting since the party and it felt like a logical step to spend some time together in person as well. 

He is already there at the café when you arrive, greets you with a short hug and you can’t not notice how his hand slips lower on your back, towards your butt, but it’s still barely appropriate, so you decide to let it slide. You both order and then sit at one of the tables. 

There’s a confidence in him that feels… easy. Different from Harry’s, but still familiar in a way you don’t fully want to analyze.

“So you’re a Fine Arts major, huh? The next da Vinci?”

You let out a chuckle, though you kind of hate it when people assume that just because you study art you also want to be a painter. While you do enjoy creating art, it’s so much more than just that. 

“We’ll see. But I’m kind of more into the history of art these days and curation.”

“That’s a fancy word,” he smirks, taking a sip of his coffee. 

The conversation flows easily, though you kind of stay on the surface level. It’s pleasant, but not memorable so far. 

Mason is telling you about the internship he is planning to start next summer when the door of the small café opens and an all too familiar figure steps inside. 

Harry walks in wearing a black hoodie, his hair slightly messy, like maybe he just rolled out of bed. His eyes scan the room just casually, but then he spots you and Mason. His expression is unreadable as he stops for a moment and then heads over to you, making you curse internally. His appearance is the last thing you needed right now. 

“Hey guys, what a nice surprise,” he nods, stopping by your table. 

“Hey man,” Mason nods back as you drop him a smile too. Harry looks at him and Mason stares back and suddenly the air around you feels different, but you can’t put your finger on it. 

“Are you guys on a date or something?” Harry asks in a weird tone. 

“Just having a chat,” Mason answers. 

“Right,” Harry nods once, slowly. “Didn’t realize you two knew each other that well already.”

Something about the way he says that well makes your brows knit. This whole conversation feels off. 

“Getting there,” Mason smiles at you, which you return, but it’s not genuine. 

Harry shifts his weight slightly, gaze flicking briefly to Mason’s coffee, then back to him, like he has something to say, but keeps to himself. 

“Want to study together later, Honey Lemon?” he then asks you. 

“Uh, sure. I’ll text you.”

Then Harry nods and lingers for another beat before mumbling his goodbye and walking back to the counter to order.

“Honey Lemon?” Mason asks with an amused look. 

“It’s just a silly nickname he gave me a long time ago,” you wave your hand dismissively. 

“So you guys are like… something?”

“We’re friends,” you answer instantly. “We’ve been friends for a long time, but that’s all.”

“Friends who give each other cute nicknames.” Mason nods into his coffee, he doesn’t sound upset, his tone is more teasing, mixed with something you can’t quite read. 

“Just friends,” you repeat and it’s a reminder to you as well, not just an answer for Mason. 

Your gaze flickers up to Harry’s figure by the counter just as he puts the lid on his cup. He looks at you too, your eyes meeting for a heartbeat before you turn away. From the corner of your eyes you see him walk out and something shifts in your chest, but you ignore it and turn your attention back to Mason. 

There is no use of dwelling on your useless feelings for Harry when you have a cute guy right in front of you, right?

Right. 

***

You were hoping Harry would forget about the study session he suggested, but you’re out of luck. About an hour after you part ways with Mason he texts you. 

HARRY: u home yet?

Y/N: yep

The three dots appear immediately after you sent your reply.

HARRY: meet me in the library in 20?

You hesitate for a second, but then agree. 

He is waiting outside the building when you get there, greeting you with a soft smile. The sight of him sends a shiver down your spine and for a second you wonder how you got here just in a few days, that even just looking at him has your body twisting and bending.

“Hi there,” he says as you reach him. It’s a little windy and you forgot to tie your hair back, so a few strands are dancing right in your face. Harry reaches up and tugs them behind your ears with an easy move, but as his fingers brush against the side of your face you almost let out a tortured moan.

Now you regret agreeing to meet him. 

“Hi. Let’s get going,” you suggest and the two of you walk inside. 

You find a nice spot near the windows and settle across from each other, covering the tabletop with your textbooks and notebooks. You have barely started studying ten minutes ago when he drops his pen and looks at you.

“So you and Mason?”

Right into the middle of it.

“What about us?”

“Is it… like, serious?” He leans back, eyeing you with a hard expression. 

“We’re just talking,” you shrug and that’s the truth. Nothing happened between the two of you, though Mason has been definitely hinting that he would love to change that. 

Harry nods shortly and then you both return to your books, but not even two minutes later he looks up again. 

“I just don’t get it.”

“What?” you sigh.

“You,” he simply says. “I mean, why him?”

Your jaw tightens a little. “Why is that even your business?”

“It’s not,” he admits quickly. “You’re right, but… we’re best friends, so it is kind of a bit of my business.”

“Yeah, but you don’t hear me questioning you about your hook ups, so why am I being interrogated?”

Your words come out a little sharper than you intended them and you see how they stun him. For a second you feel bad for biting back at him like that. 

“I just care about you,” he then says. “And I want to make sure you’re good.”

Your whole body relaxes at that, that heavy weight in your chest softens, because that’s exactly the Harry you love so much. The one who always shows up. Always checks in. Always makes space for you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“I’m good. Don’t worry about me,” you tell him this time softer.

“I will always worry about my Honey Lemon,” he says and something grips your heart. 

You’re actually close to crying, so you shake your head with an airy chuckle and turn your attention back to your reading. 

“Study, Styles. Worry about your grades.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, making you laugh as you both go back to your books, though you stare at the same line for what feels like eternity before you finally manage to recover from the conversation you just had. 

Your heart already feels like breaking and that’s exactly what you wanted to avoid. So in the heat of your emotions you grab your phone from the table and text Mason, asking if he wants to meet up again. He is quick to reply.

MASON: always up to see u gorgeous ;)

You like his message and put your phone back, ignoring the way Harry is staring at you from the other side of the table. 

***

At the end of October there is always a Fall Festival on campus that you love so much. The central quad is transformed into something straight out of a movie. String lights are hung between trees, food trucks line the walkways, student organizations set up booths, live music plays from a temporary stage and there are carnival games scattered around. You always get excited to wander around and see everything and that’s exactly what you were planning this year too with Samira, but the moment she enters your shared room that afternoon, just an hour before you were supposed to go and explore the festival you know something is up.

“Spill it out,” you sigh, shoulders sagging.

“Okay, don’t hate me, but… Eli asked me out to go to the festival with him.”

“Oh. Oh…” It takes you a second to realize what that means. 

“But I told him I promised you to go with and I don’t want to bail on you so what would you say if Eli joined us too?” she asks, flashing a wide, hopeful smile at you.

“Sami, I don’t want to be your third wheel,” you moan.

“You won’t! Just think of it as a hangout!”

“But it’s not,” you roll your eyes. “Just… go with him. I’ll ask someone else.”

“What about Mason?” she suggests. 

“He is out of town for the weekend, but I’ll just text Holly and see if she is up to it,” you say with a soft smile, though you already know Holly, who you had Visual Culture class two semesters ago and remained friends with will be going with her own boyfriend, but Sami doesn’t need to know that. Your mood for the festival was killed so you’ll just probably stay home and binge watch another trashy dating reality show. 

“Okay, but if Holly is not available please just come with us. I don’t want you to miss out on the festival, I know how much you love it,” Sami tells you, pointing a stern finger at you.

“I will,” you nod, knowing well you won’t.

Soon Samira leaves to meet up with Eli and you pretend like you’re getting ready to head out too, but as soon as she is out the door you put your sweats back on and crash onto your bed. However your chilling session cuts short when a text pops up on your phone from Harry.

HARRY: where are u?

Y/N: home

HARRY: ?? why??

Y/N: bc I live here?

HARRY: smartass, what about the festival?

Y/N: not in the mood

HARRY: absolutely not, get dressed, I’ll pick u up in 10

You stare at the message for a bit, debating whether it’s worth fighting him, but you soon realize Harry is one stubborn asshole and will literally pound on your door until you go with him, so it’s better if you just gave up. 

You step out of your dorm building right when Harry arrives. He is wearing his hockey jacket over a thick hoodie and dark jeans, looking his usual handsome self that has you sighing silently as you approach him. 

“Aw, did you turn into GoGo today?” he grins at you, referring to the moodier character from Big Hero 6. “What do I need to do to get Honey Lemon back?”

“Maybe not annoy me to death?” 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he winks and gives you a quick bear hug before tugging you towards the festival. 

The festival is already packed when you arrive. Students crowd the walkways, laughter and music filling the air. The scent of caramel apples, popcorn and cinnamon hangs in the chilly evening breeze. 

"Okay," Harry announces, rubbing his hands together. "First mission." 

"What mission?" 

"Get Honey Lemon to stop looking like someone ran over her goldfish." 

“I never had a goldfish.”

“I know, but this is exactly how you’d look if you had and someone ran over it.”

“How do you even run over a fish?” you frown. Harry sighs, shaking his head.

“The situation is worse than I thought. Come on, I’ll win you something at the games, that will cheer you up.”

You have no time to protest, he takes your hand and pulls you over to the carnival games. He decides he has the best shot with that ridiculous ring tossing game, saying that his aim is perfect thanks to hockey.

Well, he definitely overestimated his abilities when it comes to rigged carnival games. You watch him spend over twenty bucks before he finally wins the smallest prize, an ugly looking pumpkin plushie. 

“What is this?” you chuckle, holding the little guy up. 

“A pumpkin!” he cheerfully announces.

“It’s hideous,” you shake your head, assessing how one of his eyes is way higher than his other. 

“Hey, don’t insult him!” he gasps dramatically, making you laugh.

“He kinda looks possessed.”

“Possessed by the spirit of fall fun!”

“You’re weird,” you shake your head laughing as you tuck the ugly pumpkin into your bag. 

“Yeah, but you love me,” he grins.

Yes, you think to yourself. You really do.

You wander around the festival, get some cookies you share and play some more games. Soon you totally forget how you didn’t even want to come in the first place. It also helps that hanging out with Harry feels just like before, he is being his goofy, fun self you always loved so much and you somehow leave your torturous thoughts from the past few weeks behind as well, allowing yourself to enjoy the time spent with your best friend. 

Because that’s what he is and that’s what you’re reminded of. No matter what, Harry is truly your best friend. 

Standing in line for some hot chocolate a particularly cold breeze rushes past you, making you regret not bringing a jacket, you really thought a sweater would be enough, but now that the sun has gone down it’s definitely getting chillier. 

“Are you cold?” he asks, noticing how you’ve wrapped your arms around yourself. 

“No.”

“Liar,” he hisses, already shrugging his jacket off. 

“Harry, no,” you protest, but he just drapes it over your shoulders.

“Don’t be a pain in the ass, Honey Lemon. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Oh, so it’s okay for you to catch a cold?” you narrow your eyes at him. 

“I’m not cold,” he shrugs. “Besides, I’m used to it. Remember? Hockey is played on ice, in a pretty cold place,” he grins at you. God, he is so insufferable. 

“Yes, but you’re moving on the ice, your body’s temperature is a lot higher.”

“I’m gonna get it higher now with a hot chocolate,” he simply nods towards the booth where you’re up next. 

With a sigh you let it go and slip your arms into his jacket. Now you’re wrapped in warmth and his scent.

Of course, the evening can’t end without the two of you going for a ride on the ferris wheel. It’s pretty small, but it definitely has a vibe that just goes perfectly with the festival. 

The line moves quite fast so you take your seat soon and start the ride. 

“Are you feeling better?” Harry asks, bumping his shoulder against yours. 

“Yes,” you admit truthfully.

“And want to tell me why you were so mopey?”

Chewing on your bottom lip you just shrug as you stare ahead. What would you even tell him? That recently you realized you have feelings for him and since it’s surely a lost cause you’ve been trying to get over it, but it sucks? Yeah, you’re not sharing that with him. 

“Are we good?” he then asks and his question surprises you.

“Why wouldn’t we?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs, but you know there’s more behind it. “I just feel like things between us have been kinda different between us, but I want to make sure we’re good.”

Great, now you feel guilty for making him feel like something is wrong, when the only thing wrong is whatever is going on in your head. It’s not his fault that you’re a mess because of your feelings, he did nothing wrong and you’d hate it if he blamed himself. 

“Of course we’re good,” you smile at him softly. “I’ve just been in a… funk lately, I guess” you chuckle awkwardly. “But it’s all good.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you with that?” he asks and you know he means it. 

Harry would do anything for you, that’s why it all pains you even more. You were so blind, you should have known from the start that falling for such a great guy is inevitable. 

“Just be yourself,” you manage to tell him, swallowing down the ball in your throat, hoping he doesn’t notice the hurt behind your eyes. 

“I’m always myself when I’m with you,” he tips his head slightly with the tiniest smile on his lips. “You’re my favorite person, Honey Lemon. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you nod. “And you’re mine.”

You stare at each other for another beat and for a second something feels different. The way he is looking at you, there’s something in it you haven’t noticed before and it’s quick to put a pin into your heart and pop a thought into your mind.

What if Samira was right? What if… there’s more between the two of you? 

All the touches, the hugs, the laughs, the endless time spent together, what if those mean more to him as well?

By the time you get off the ferris wheel your head is spinning and your heart is pounding in your chest, especially when his hand brushes against yours and he hooks your pinkies together. It’s the tiniest of touch, but it ignites fireworks in your tummy. 

You barely notice where you're walking as Harry guides you through the crowd toward another row of booths. You’ve seen practically everything around the festival, but you definitely don’t want the evening to end just yet. 

“Can we drop by the restrooms?” you ask and Harry nods, instantly changing your direction towards the science building that was left open so the restrooms could be used while the festival is open. 

Walking on the pavement Harry’s pinky lets go of yours and you feel the disappointment right away, but before you could wallow in it he drapes his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side. 

“I’ll wait for you here,” he smiles, stopping in front of the building and you rush inside, eager to get back to him as fast as possible. 

You’re washing your hand already when the last stall on the row opens and you spot Wynter walking out. Her gaze catches yours in the mirror instantly and you quickly look back down, hoping she’ll just ignore your existence. 

But you’re out of luck. 

“You know, I have to give you credits for your bravery.”

At first you’re not even sure she is talking to you, because you have no idea what she meant by that, but when you look up you see that she is looking straight at you with her usual icy stare.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re pretty brave for still hanging out with Harry.”

“And why is that?” you ask, knowing well you shouldn’t be interacting with her, but she got you curious. 

“The two of you are just so different, he is popular, liked by everyone, one of the best looking guys around campus, while you’re…”

She doesn’t continue, but the runover she gives you with her eyes speaks for her. 

You’re not popular, nobody really notices you if Harry isn’t around and you don’t have the looks either. You’re the polar opposite of what he is.

You clench your jaw, feeling all your darkest thoughts flooding your mind suddenly. Wynter’s smile turns almost evil.

“I mean if I were you I would take even a morsel of whatever he is willing to give me, so I don’t blame you. But I think you’re brave for sticking around even when you clearly don’t belong in his circle.”

You want to curse her out, tell her she knows nothing about you or Harry, but you feel like if you opened your mouth you’d start crying. And Wynter probably knows that too, because pride is plastered all over her face as she simply walks past you and exits the restroom. 

You stay frozen at the sink, fingers still damp, staring at your reflection like it belongs to someone else. Her words are on repeat in your mind, clawing at your chest more and more every time. 

You swallow hard, forcing air into your lungs as you lean onto the sink. Now you feel stupid for letting yourself think even for a minute that there could be more between you and Harry, because Wynter might be a total bitch, but suddenly her words. You really are different and there’s absolutely no way Harry would ever even consider you when it comes to dating when he could have any girl on campus. Cheerleaders, dancers, girls who model in their freetime, that’s the kind of girls he should be with, not you. 

Walking out of the building Harry is still right there, scrolling on his phone, but when he sees you he smiles and slips it back into his pocket. Then he sees your face and worry etches onto his expression. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’m gonna head home, I’m not feeling too good.”

“Why? What’s the matter?” he keeps searching for your eyes, but you can’t look into his for longer than just a second. 

“I think that corndog didn’t like the ferris wheel,” you lie, hoping he won’t question you.

“Ow. Okay, let me walk you home.”

You want to protest, but you know that would be suspicious, so you just nod. The walk back to your dorm is quiet, Harry asks a few times if you want to stop for a bit, but you just really want to get back to your room, be alone and probably cry yourself to sleep. 

Somehow you hold it together long enough. In front of the building you slip his jacket off and hand it back.

“Thanks for… everything,” you smile at him faintly.

“You sure I can’t do anything for you? I can stay with you, make sure you’re okay.”

“No need. I just really want to lie down, that’s all.”

he is not pleased by your answer, but he nods and doesn’t protest.

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thank you Harry,” you smile, then turn around and walk back inside. 

Tears are rolling down your cheeks by the time you get to your room. Samira is not back, so you can peacefully sob until you’re too tired to carry on. So you take a shower and cocoon yourself in bed, allowing yourself to sink into the sadness for one last night, because now it’s crystal clear for you that you need to get over Harry. 

There is no need lusting for something that will never happen and the sooner you move on the better. 

***

By the end of the weekend after the festival you’re actively trying to get your shit together. It’s tough, but you have no choice and there are two things you start doing. 

One, you start to lean towards Mason more. He returns to campus and the two of you go out for dinner on Monday and when he walks you home from class on Tuesday you even let him kiss you. There are no fireworks, but it’s surely a pleasant kiss, so you tell yourself to just stay open. 

On the other hand, you start to put some distance between you and Harry, knowing that’s what you need to make it easier on you, even if it kills you to avoid your best friend. You know he is worried, he tells you through texts, but you just try to brush it all off, hoping he won’t come after you and call you out on your bullshitting. 

Friday evening the basketball team is throwing a party following their winning match earlier that day and Mason asks you to go with him, like as a date and you agree.

You also know Harry will be there since he is friends with some of the boys on the basketball team, but you’re trying not to worry ahead, you’ll just stick to Mason’s side and everything will be fine. 

Unfortunately, you don’t go too long without running into the hockey boys. 

“Y/N!” Niall grins brightly upon seeing you. “Haven’t seen you in fucking ages!”

“Sorry, I’ve been kinda busy,” you let out a nervous chuckle. Behind Niall you spot Harry who is already staring at you with an unreadable expression, but you can tell he is not happy. 

“Too busy to meet your best friend?” Harry bites out. 

“You know how this stage goes, Styles,” Mason inserts himself into the conversation, draping an arm around your shoulders, though the move feels strange from him. “We’re busy getting to know each other.”

“Yeah, I know how it is,” Harry replies and there’s something dark in his eyes as he stares back at Mason. 

“Okay, why don’t we all take a shot?” you suggest, eager to break the awkward vibes.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Niall cheers and gets to work. 

After the shots Mason asks if you want to go see what’s going on by the pool and you nod, but Harry’s hand on your wrist stops you.

“Hey, can we maybe talk tonight?”

“Uh, sure,” you nod, gently pulling your hand back. Not because he is gripping you tight, but because the warmth of his touch is making you shiver. 

“Meet me upstairs in half an hour?”

“Okay,” you nod and then go after Mason. 

While you hang out by the pool area with Mason and a few other people your thoughts are stuck on Harry. The way he looked at you and his begging eyes when he asked you to talk. It’s not becoming very clear that avoiding him is not only hard for you but for him as well. 

You tell Mason you’re going to pee when you head inside, but instead of finding a bathroom you take the stairs up. You’ve only been here once, so you’re not too familiar with the house, but as soon as you reach the hallway upstairs you spot Harry at the end sitting on a sofa under the window.

“You came,” he says quietly as you sit next to him.

“I said I would.”

“Yeah, but you’ve been avoiding me all week, I wasn’t sure…”

Guilt gnaws at your stomach, your first instinct is to apologize, but you hold it back. 

“What did you want to talk about?” you ask. 

“Well, that’s exactly what I wanted to bring up. You’ve been actively avoiding me and I wanna know why.”

You stare down at your hands in your lap, fumbling with the fabric of your jeans, you really have no idea what to tell him. 

“I really don’t like where this is going, Y/N,” he sighs.

“What do you mean? I’ve just been busy and–”

“Please don’t bullshit me,” he frowns, holding his hands up to stop you from rambling on. “I need you to answer my next question honestly, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“Is Mason telling you to avoid me? Is it because of him?”

You can’t help the puzzled look on your face.

“What? Why would he do that?”

“Because I have a feeling that he is doing all of this to mess with me and get back for getting kicked out of the team.”

It takes a few moments for his words to settle, but when they do, anger starts rising in your gut.

“Oh, so you think Mason is using me to mess with you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. He is… not who you think he is.”

“And you know him so well, right?” you scoff.

“No, but I know him enough. I know that he has ulterior motives with you.”

That tips you over. You jump to your feet, taking a step back, needing some distance between the two of you, but this time it’s because you’re close to strangling him. 

“Fuck you,” you spat, surprising him with your sudden outburst. “Really, you think a good-looking guy like Mason couldn’t be interested in me without having some secret motives connected to you? Is that what you think?”

His eyes widen as he realizes that’s how you interpreted his words. He stands up and tries to get closer to you, but as soon as he moves, you take another step back, so he stops, not wanting to drive you away.

“That’s not what I mean, Y/N.”

“But I think that’s kind of actually what you meant, Harry. Maybe not directly, but deep down you actually had the thought.”

“Why would I think that? That’s insane, I just want to protect you from whatever Mason has planned, because I’m sure it won’t end well.”

“I don’t need your protection, okay? I’m more than capable of choosing who I want to spend my time with and right now you’re at the very bottom of that list.”

Turning around you start marching away from him, but he is quick to catch up. He grabs your wrist, tries to pull you back, but you shake his hand off.

“Y/N, wait, let’s talk about this,” he pleads, but you’re seeing red and talking is the last thing you want to do right now.

“No. I mean it. I don’t want to see you right now and if we’re actually friends please respect that.”

If you weren’t this angry you’d actually be pretty proud of standing your ground. Harry senses the determination in you as well, so hesitantly, but he steps back and lets you walk away. 

The music is loud downstairs, but your pulse is actually drumming louder in your ears as you push your way downstairs and then head back outside. You don’t see Mason by the pool so you start looking for him. As you’re just about to go back inside you hear his voice coming from beside the house from the dark. 

Walking closer you still don’t see him, but hear him talking to someone and soon you realize the other voice belongs to Wynter. The blood freezes in your veins as you plaster yourself against the wall and listen to their conversation. 

“How long are you gonna toy with her?” Wynter asks with a giggle. “Don’t drag it too long.”

Mason scoffs. “Relax. I’ve got it handled.” 

“I don’t doubt that, but we don’t want another scandal out of it,” Wynter purrs. 

“I know what I’m doing. I have her wrapped around my fingers.”

Your stomach drops and nausea starts to take over you, but you keep listening. 

“I think Harry is really spiraling over this,” Mason adds with a proud chuckle. “You should have seen his face tonight when he saw her with me.”

“I really don’t understand what he likes so much about her,” Wynter scoffs and now tears are threatening to spill from your eyes. “He could literally have anyone and he is still spending all his time with her.”

“You mean he could have you,” Mason corrects her and they both laugh. “Yeah, he is seething over her spending time with me.”

“But you’re not actually liking her, right?” Wynter asks.

“Fuck no,” Mason laughs. “She is kinda annoying sometimes and definitely not my type. I don’t even know how she could believe that I’m into her.”

That’s the final knife in your chest. With red eyes and wet cheeks you step out from behind the wall and let them know that you heard them. They look actually surprised about getting busted, but neither of them says anything. Instead, they even look smug, as if they are trying to send a message: Yes, we did that, what are you gonna do about it?

“I hope you’ll both have fun in hell together,” you simply say, then turn around and walk away. 

You’re done. Absolutely done with everything and everyone. Tears stream down your cheeks as you push your way through the house with the intention of leaving, but right when you’re about to reach the front door Harry stops you.

“Y/N I’m so sorry for– Hey, are you crying because of what I said?” he asks panicking, following you out the door, because you’re not stopping. 

“Just leave me alone,” you sob, trying to turn away from him, but he jumps in front of you on the front porch and finally stops you, gently grabbing you by your shoulders. 

“Fuck Y/N if it’s because of me I–”

“It’s not, okay?” you snap at him. “But congratulations, you were fucking right!” You let out a bitter laugh before shrugging his hands off and actually running away from him.

You don’t stop until you reach the end of the street and you managed to shock him enough that he doesn’t come after you. With trembling hands you call yourself an Uber and go back to your dorm with the intention of never ever leaving your room again. 

It’s kind of a blur, the ride back, the way the driver asked if you’re alright, but you could only sob as an answer. When you barge into your room Samira is shocked at your current state and tries to ask what happened, but you can’t even talk.

She hugs you close as you lie on your bed and lets you cry it all out until you finally calm down enough to tell her what happened. The fight with Harry, the conversation you overheard between Mason and Wynter and then literally running away.

“I’m so sorry, Girly. Mason is a fucking ass, do you know his email address?”

You give her a puzzled look.

“Yes?”

“Good, I’m gonna sign him up for every annoying ass newsletter and embarrassing website.”

That makes you laugh. Then Sami grabs her secret stash of gummy bears and the two of you decide to watch an awful move to take your mind off of what happened tonight. 

About twenty minutes into the movie Sami gets a text.

“Hey, I know Harry is like Voldemort in this room now, but you might want to check this out.”

She pauses the movie and hands you over her phone, a text thread open with one of her classmates.

MONICA: OMG Sami!!! Harry Styles literally just punched Mason Thorne in the face and threatened him!!

MONICA: Update, Tony said he heard Harry say that he will break more than just Mason’s nose if he as much as looks at Y/N again, this is WILDDD

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, eyes going wide as you reread the messages. 

“That’s like something straight out of a movie,” Sami gasps and right when she is about to ask Monica for more details, there’s a knock on the door. 

“Y/N? Can we please talk?” Harry’s voice is soft and pained and it makes your stomach twist. 

Samira stands from the bed and gives you a questioning look, asking whether she should open the door or let him camp outside. You nod. 

She throws the door open and there he is, in the same clothes you saw him earlier at the party, but his expression is full of worry and pain and so much more. 

“Um, I’m gonna spend the night at Eli’s, you two have a lot to talk about,” Sami smiles awkwardly, quickly throws her necessities into her bag and then scurries out of the room. Harry is still standing at the door.

“Can I come in?” he asks and you can only nod again. Sitting on your bed you watch him walk in, he softly closes the door and then walks closer, stopping a few feet away from you, like he is trying to give you space. 

“Is it true that you punched Mason in the face?” you ask quietly, staring at him with wide eyes. Harry licks his lips and nods, kind of ashamed.

“Not my proudest moment, but when he told me that he used you to piss me off I just… lost my mind.” He shakes his head with a sad chuckle. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, I didn’t want my prediction to be true, you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do, I feel like it was my job to protect you and I did a pretty shitty job at that.”

You stand from the bed and step closer, though leave a bit of space between the two of you. Then your eyes spot the bruise on his knuckles and you gasp, reaching for it.

“Shit, this looks bad,” you say, assessing the dark patches on his hand.

“It’s alright, I’ve had it worse on the ice,” he shrugs, but then hisses when you gently run a finger over his bruised knuckles.

“Sit down, I have some ice.”

He obeys, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you step over to the mini freezer and grab some ice, put it into a towel and then return to Harry. You take his hand into your lap and carefully put the ice over, making him hiss again. 

Silence wraps around you as you just sit there with his hand on your lap, holding the ice against his knuckles, you have so many thoughts racing in your head, but he is the first one to speak up.

“I have a confession to make.”

“Uh-oh, come clean, Styles,” you smile at him faintly, making him chuckle, before seriousness takes over his expression again as he keeps his gaze glued to his hand in your lap. 

“I only wanted to threaten him at first, but then he said that I’m this mad about what he did because I’m in love with you and I’ll never be brave enough to tell you.”

Nausea takes over you again, but you muster up everything in you to keep yourself together. 

“I bet that upset you,” you whisper, avoiding looking at him. Of course that pissed him off, because probably the thought of him being in love with you is so ridiculous to him that he–

“It did, because it’s true.”

You completely freeze. Did you just hear him right? Because it sounded like he just said that he is in love with you. 

Slowly and very carefully you look up at him and the way he is staring at you is something you’ve never seen from him. 

“Well, I mean the part that I’ll never be brave enough to tell you is not true now, because I’m literally telling you now,” he rambles with a nervous chuckle while you’re still in shock. He clears his throat and pulls back his hand before he continues to speak. “Y/N, I was protective over you when it came to Mason because he really is an asshole, but also because I was so fucking jealous, it’s insane,” he admits. “I hated seeing you handing your heart over to someone who I knew was not worthy of it and I wanted to be the one receiving it. And maybe I’m ruining our friendship right now, but I just can’t do this any longer, I can’t pretend like I haven’t been in love with you since… probably I was sixteen.”

You’re convinced you’ve died and this is an alternate universe. It can’t be happening, Harry surely hasn’t just admitted to being in love with you for years. You stare back at him with a complete loss of words.

“I know it’s kind of a lot, but I would love to hear your thoughts, Y/N,” he lets out another nervous chuckle.

“I only dated Mason because I was trying to get over my feelings for you,” you confess suddenly, the words rolling off your tongue surprisingly easily. You watch Harry’s expression change from anxious to stunned before you continue. “I realized that I have feelings for you not long ago, but I think I’ve been just ignoring them for a long time, because I never thought you’d see me as more than just a friend. But… I do love you too, Harry.”

It’s like something in the universe shifted as you said it out loud, you feel lighter, but an excited buzz has started to spring in your chest as well as you stare at each other, stunned, unable to speak as the words hang in the air between the two of you. 

Then slowly, a relieved smile tugs on his lips that you can’t help but mirror and suddenly you feel giddy in the head, like you’re a kid who just admitted to having a crush on a boy, even though it’s a lot more than that. 

Harry reaches out, takes the ice from your hand and puts it to the desk before turning back to you. You swallow hard when his hand cups your cheek first, his thumb gently caressing it before his palm slips to the back of your head and he pulls you closer until there’s only an inch between your lips.

“I’m about to kiss you, Y/N,” he murmurs. “So if you’d rather stay just friends, now is the time to stop me.”

No words come out of your mouth, not that you want to stop him. Instead, you dart your tongue out and lick your lips, the tip of your tongue brushing against his lips and that’s when he snaps. 

He kisses you eagerly at first, opening your mouth for him right away, tongues clashing, but then he turns it down a little, changing it into something exploratory, but the hunger is still right there. Your mind is blank, all you can think of and feel is Harry, his lips moving perfectly in sync with yours, one of his hands on the back of your head, fisting your hair, the other one holding your jaw as he keeps angling you so he could get even more of you. 

You both keep pushing against each other and before you realize you’re straddling his lap, breasts pressing against his hard chest as you don’t even try to hold your moans back once his erection rubs against your core through your pants and his jeans. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes out, his mouth kissing its way down your neck, biting and licking and sucking, most likely leaving marks on your skin. One hand comes to your lower back, slipping under your shirt as he teases your heated skin with his fingers before his palm moves down and gives your ass a firm grab. Your fingers sink into his shoulders, but he is still wearing his hoodie and it’s just too many layers. 

As if he could read your mind, he leans back just enough to tug his hoodie off and throws it aside before his lips return to devouring yours. It’s all heat and lust and need for each other, Harry’s scent fills your nostrils and it’s maddening how skilled he is claiming your mouth. 

But then his hands find the hem of your t-shirt and he starts to peel it up and your mind steps on the break. You pull back, head dizzy from the bruising kisses you’ve been getting, but you can’t ignore how your anxiety just spiked in seconds.

“What’s wrong?” he breathes out, his hands settling on your thighs. You’re both still clothed, but you’ve seen him shirtless. He is all muscles and smooth skin with tattoos, the perfect athlete body, but he hasn’t seen you without a shirt on and suddenly you’re very aware that he is about to see every inch of you.

“Sorry,” you shake your head, trying to get your thoughts straight. “I just…”

“Hey,” he softly says, one hand coming up to cradle your face and you instantly lean into his touch. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m more than okay with just kissing you and falling asleep.”

“But I want to do more, I just… I’m not exactly like the girls you usually hook up with,” you mumble, embarrassment burning your cheeks. 

A very insecure part of you was expecting him to laugh and agree, but Harry stays serious as his eyes scan over your face, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Yeah, but you’re the one I want and have always wanted. I know I haven’t seen you without clothes on, but I have a great imagination,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. “I’ve fantasized about you countless times, Y/N, and I assure you it was fucking amazing every time.”

“But those weren’t real,” you manage to say, though his words definitely sent a shiver down your spine. 

You feel awful for being so hung up on it, he might not have seen you naked, but he surely saw enough of you to know what to expect and judging from his erection that’s still straining against his jeans he must be enjoying your body so far. 

But still.

That evil little voice in the back of your mind just wouldn’t shut up, telling you that you’re going to be a disappointment to him. 

Harry takes a deep breath as he keeps staring at you and you’re kind of expecting him to get irritated by your behavior, but that doesn’t happen.

“Do you have a scarf?” he asks suddenly, completely throwing you off.

“Um, I do. Why?”

“Can you give it to me? I have an idea.”

Still lost, but you climb off him and step over to your dresser, pull out a soft pink scarf and hand it over to him, sitting beside him on the bed this time. 

He rolls up the scarf and then brings it to his face, covering his eyes with it before tying it behind his head. 

“What are you doing?” you ask with an awkward chuckle as Harry is now sitting on your bed, blindfolded. 

“I’m going to give you all the control,” he announces. “I will stay blindfolded for as long as you want me and you get to control where I’m touching you too. You decide how far we go and how much I get from you. Just know that I’m more than eager to have it all, but I’ll be a good boy for you,” he grins cheekily and you stare at him in disbelief.

Your first instinct is to tell him to quit playing, but then you actually consider his idea. He can’t see you, he can’t see your body and all the insecurities you want to hide from him and he said you decide where he can touch you, so you can keep him away from crucial parts of your body. 

This is actually a genius idea. 

“Okay,” you breathe out eventually.

“Okay,” he repeats after you, nodding. 

Your heart is pounding against your chest and your hands are trembling when you reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it up and off your body. 

“Take off your shirt,” you tell him and he obeys without hesitation. His shirt comes right off, revealing his chest that’s just begging for your hands to be explored and you decide not to deny anything from yourself. 

Climbing over to him you settle back in his lap and true to his word, Harry keeps his hands off you, so you take them and a little hesitantly but put them on your thighs. He exhales sharply, his fingers digging into you and he moves his hands just a tad bit, rubbing his palms over your thighs, but they don’t go anywhere else. 

Your hands however are having a field trip on his chest, fingers digging into his pecks, nails dragging down them, mapping every inch of his smooth skin. When you press a palm over his chest you feel just how wildly his heart is thumping against his ribs and you can’t help but smile that you’re making him feel this way. 

Leaning in you kiss him again, but it’s slower now, you take your time tasting and exploring him, it’s so much more sensual, you keep moaning into each other’s mouth. You get so lost in it that you start rolling your hips, looking for friction between your legs over his erection that’s still neatly hidden in his jeans. Eager to feel his hand somewhere else too you give him more access by moving his hands to your butt which he quickly celebrates with another firm grab that makes you press up against him even more. 

“Fuck, I want you so bad,” he moans when your lips move down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin under his ear. 

When you need more of him you pull back and stand, just so you can take your pants off, the lack of your closeness pulling a grunt from Harry, but he just sits there obediently, just how he promised. For a second you almost tell him to get rid of his jeans, but then you decide to do it yourself.

Your hands more to his crotch and he hisses shortly when he realizes you’re unbuttoning them. To help you he lifts his hips up so you can easily tug them down and get rid of them, leaving him in only his briefs while you’re in your underwear too. 

Anxiety starts to spike inside you, but you push it down and move back to straddle his lap. Taking his hands he draws in an excited breath, waiting where they might end up and that’s when you decide to just go all out. 

It’s Harry, your best friend and the most wonderful man you’ve ever known. He told you he loved you and he wants you, he wants all of you, so then why are you hiding from him? 

You put his hands back next to him on the mattress and even though you sense his disappointment, you ignore it as you unclasp your bra and throw it behind before taking a deep breath and reaching up to pull the scarf off his eyes. 

And just like that, he is looking at you, completely naked on the top, only wearing your panties as you sit on his lap, breathing rapidly as if you’re doing a workout, it’s almost embarrassing, but the way Harry’s eyes scan over your body makes you forget everything. Pure hunger and lust coats his vision and you can tell he is fighting himself to keep his word. 

“You can touch me,” you tell him. “Anywhere.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, eyes searching yours and you nod. 

Then his hands move to your thighs first, this time his palms meeting your naked skin, then they slip up your waist and just as you’re about to worry that he can feel the rolls and all the extra softness the most obscene moan slips out of his mouth once his hands palm your breasts. 

“Fuck, look at you, Honey Lemon. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

If you weren’t so damn turned on maybe you would have cried at his words, but right now you just want to feel him everywhere.

“Want to hear a confession?” he grins against your lips, pecking them a few times. 

“Sure,” you nod, raking your fingers through his hair that earns you a satisfied groan.

“Remember that short yellow dress you used to wear in the summer around sophomore year in high school?”

“I think so,” you nod, not sure where he is going with all this when you’re almost entirely naked on his lap.

“You in that dress was my go-to fantasy for a long time, well, it was me taking it off you, to be precise.”

Now that surprises you, for a second you look at him with a stunned expression. You specifically remember how self-conscious you were when you had that dress on, because it was showing your arms and legs. Well it seems like that’s exactly what gave your best friend some pretty dirty thoughts. 

“I think I still have that dress,” you suddenly say and the widest grin stretches across his face.

“Let me know when you find it.”

That makes you chuckle before you go back to kissing him. His confession was great at easing the rest of your nerves, because when Harry wraps an arm around you and pushes you onto the mattress, rolling on top of you the tiny evil voice is gone from your mind, it’s all pleasure and want for Harry and you’re ready to enjoy this to the fullest. 

Your kisses grow needier and a bit sloppier as one of his hands start to venture down your body, palming your breasts, playing with your nipples before dipping lower, it sweeps over your tummy before moving to your clothed sex. Your panties are drenched at this point and he sighs contently when he runs two of his fingers over the damp fabric while you shudder under him. 

He keeps kissing you as his hand dips under the elastic and this time his two fingers slide right between your wet folds, pulling a moan from you. Harry grins, kissing your lips once more before his lips move down until his face is at your chest. 

He starts circling your clit right when he sucks your right nipple into his mouth and you almost see stars. 

“Harry,” you cry out, tugging on his hair as he keeps sucking and biting the sensitive bud while his fingers work at a perfect pace on your clit. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” he hums and moves over to your other nipple. You can’t answer, but the way your hips buckle against him is enough to let him know he is doing amazing. 

Then he slips two fingers inside and curls them, making you gasp as you claw at his shoulders. Lifting his head he flashes you a cheeky smirk before he starts pumping his fingers in and out, his lips returning to your breasts, licking and biting, leaving marks on you. 

He gets you to the verge of an orgasm quite fast, but then pulls his hands out of your panties, a dissatisfied groan slipping out between your lips. Harry chuckles softly as he sits back on his heels and pulls your panties down your legs, finally getting you entirely naked in front of him. 

For a split second you feel self-conscious about your body, but as soon as you see the way he looks at you, like you’re a goddess, your confidence spikes as you open your knees wide so he can see all of you. 

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, hooking his fingers into the elastic of his briefs, but not tugging them down just yet. 

“You.”

“Only me?”

“Only you.”

With a sharp exhale he gets on his knees and quickly gets rid of his last clothing item, his erection finally completely naked in front of your hungry eyes. He climbs up your body, his hips coming between your legs and as soon as you can reach you wrap your hands around his length. 

“Fuck,” he trembles under your touch and when you run your thumb over the tip, smearing some of the precum his head falls against your collarbone with a growl. “I could come just by you holding my dick.”

At that you can’t help but laugh. You love the effect you have on him and love how vocal he is about it. 

“Condom is in the nightstand drawer,” you murmur into his ear, giving him a few lazy pumps. He is quick to reach to the side and grab a packet that he tears open with his teeth and then you take the condom, rolling it onto his length.

He pulls back a little, just enough so he can grab the base of his cock and then line up at your entrance, the head already slipping inside. He looks deep into your eyes as he slides in to the hilt, both of you letting out a long, airy moan. 

“You okay?” he softly asks, planting a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Yes,” you nod eagerly, but then a wandering though crosses your mind, it’s quick, but Harry knows you too well, he catches it right away.

“What is it?” he asks, not moving. 

“Just… It’s not weird, right?”

“What are we talking about exactly?” he exhales shakily with a soft chuckle. 

“That we’ve known each other for so long and now we are having sex.”

He takes a few breaths, thinking about your words before answering and for a second you feel thankful that even when he is literally inside you he takes the time to talk you through your mini freak-out, because that’s probably what’s happening with you.

“It’s not weird,” he shakes his head, eyes meeting yours again. “I’ve loved you since we were teenagers and I love you now.”

He said he loved you right before he kissed you, but hearing it again just completely melts you. You take his face between your hands and pulls him down for a long, loving kiss.

“I love you too.”

He smiles and then finally starts moving. In and out, at first slowly, but he picks up his pace quite fast and it’s absolute heaven. Sex has never felt like this before, but you haven’t had it with someone you loved as much as you love Harry either. 

He falls into a steady rhythm, but often tries to change the angle his hips snap against yours or drawing his thrusts longer, then going faster, but anything he does just pushes you closer to the edge. And all along, Harry keeps praising you.

“You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“This is all I’ve ever wanted, fuck.”

“Taking my cock so well, I fucking love you, Y/N.”

It doesn’t take long for you to finally reach your high. Clawing at his back you gasp and arch against him as pleasure washes over you in waves and Harry follows you right behind. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, moaning and grunting as his thrusts get sharper and out of rhythm until he stops. 

You have no idea how much time passes with just Harry lying on top of you, still inside you, it might be an eternity or just five minutes, but you’re so gone nothing exists outside of Harry’s sweaty body pressing into yours and the delicious ache that’s already forming in your thighs. 

Then Harry finally gathers himself and stands from the bed. You watch him get rid of the condom and then he kneels beside you on the floor, eyes sparkling from happiness, but you have a guess you’re sporting the same look. 

“Let’s have a quick shower and then get some sleep. We have a lot to sleep off.”

“Mm, can’t move,” you moan dramatically. Harry chuckles and smacks a kiss to your lips before simply picking you up from the bed in bridal style and then head over to your tiny bathroom. He carries you so easily, like you’re just something lightweight. 

When your feet are back on the floor in the bathroom you turn to him, arms around his neck, that’s when you notice something in his eyes. 

“What’s on your mind?” you softly ask, smoothing out the line between his eyebrows with your thumb. 

“I know we just had these confessions and some mind-blowing sex, but I want to make it clear, that I want you. Like, I want you as my girlfriend, no sharing, no testing the waters, just you and me.”

You can’t help but smile, because after all your insecurities, now you see a bit of it in him, even though he has no reason to doubt what you are. 

“Just you and me. We’re official,” you tell him and he lets out a relieved breath, his hands dancing up and down your sides. 

“My Honey Lemon is finally mine,” he smirks down at you, lips inching closer until they meet yours, sealing it all with a kiss. 

It should not land low in his stomach and spread, hot and ugly, through his ribs. It should not make his chest tighten with something embarrassingly close to panic. You have never belonged to him. Not once. Not in any way that can be named aloud without making him sound foolish. Not in any way that matters to anyone but him. He has no claim to you. No right to sit there on the edge of his bed in Hampstead, phone in hand, feeling like someone has reached into his chest and closed a fist around his heart. But he does.

He lets the phone fall onto the duvet and tips his head back, exhaling sharply through his nose. A laugh nearly escapes him, but it turns sour before it can become an actual sound.

Find someone else to have fun with tonight.

As if it’s that simple. As if the city is not full of women whose numbers sit in his phone, neat and waiting, as if his name doesn’t open doors and turn heads and make things easy. As if he could not, if he really wanted to, call someone within five minutes and have her at his house before midnight. He absolutely could. That is, perhaps, the most irritating part of it. The fact that he could and still doesn’t want to.

Outside his window, London glows softly in the dark, distant traffic humming beyond the glass. The room is dim except for the bedside lamp, which casts a warm amber pool across the crumpled sheets and the discarded shirt at the foot of the bed. It should feel peaceful. A rare night off. Two days at home before they are all dragged back into it again, studio tomorrow, some radio interview after, cameras and questions and the same smiling version of themselves they always hand over. Instead, everything feels close. Airless.

He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes until colour blooms behind them. A date. With some bloke from Keira’s birthday, apparently. Harry tries not to think about that too hard, and naturally that means he does. His mind conjures a face he cannot actually see. It changes every second, too handsome, too smug, too old, too polished, too dull. Some anonymous man with a laugh Harry already hates and a hand resting too low on the small of your back. Some stranger sitting opposite you in a restaurant, watching you tuck your hair behind your ear, listening to that low little laugh you let out when you’re amused in spite of yourself.

The thought turns mean before he can stop it. What if the guy is boring? What if he talks over you? What if he is one of those men who mistake being loud for being charming and never once notices when you go quiet? Worse, what if he does notice? What if he pays attention properly, sees the things Harry has spent years collecting without meaning to, the way your mouth twitches when you’re trying not to smile, the way you rub your earlobe when you’re tired, the way you pretend you aren’t pleased when someone remembers how you like your tea? What if he is kind to you in all the exact places Harry has always wanted to be kind to you?

He drops his hands and stares blankly ahead. “Fucks sake,” he mutters to the empty room. He sounds pathetic, and he knows it.

A few months ago, when it all started to become more, it should have been easy. Before the two of you crossed whatever line it was you crossed, quietly, almost casually, in a blur of late nights and too much tension and one accidental touch too many. He might have hated the idea of you going on a date, yes, but he would have buried it beneath a grin, beneath a joke, beneath the usual version of himself that everyone seems so willing to believe in. He would have gone out, found a distraction, come home with lipstick on his collar and a story he did not care enough to tell. Now, though. Now you have made a home of him in all the ways that count and none of the ways that are safe.

His mind, traitorous thing that it is, slides towards you before he can stop it. He sees you as clearly as if you’re there: curled sideways on his bed in a hotel room somewhere in South America last month, laughing so hard at one of his terrible impressions that you nearly spilled tea down the front of your shirt. He had not even been particularly funny, he knows that. Niall had done the same impression earlier and much better. But you had laughed at Harry like he was worth indulging, like his silliness was something precious instead of tiresome, and he had stared at you for half a second too long, caught on the brightness of your face.

Then another memory arrives, softer and infinitely more dangerous. You after sex. Those rare moments when the sharp, careful edges of you loosen. When you are still warm beside him, breath unsteady, hair mussed across his pillow, and you let him touch you without deflecting it into something lighter. He thinks of the way you sometimes go quiet then, not cold, not distant, simply still, as if whatever armour you wear through the day has been set down for a minute. He thinks of brushing damp hair off your forehead. Of his palm moving slowly over your bare spine. Of the time you had been half-asleep and turned into him instead of away, tucking yourself against his chest with a small, unconscious sound that had nearly undone him. You never seem to remember those moments properly in the morning. Or maybe you do and choose not to mention them. Either way, daylight always comes, and you are yourself again, composed, teasing, impossible. “Friends who fuck,” you say, or some version of it, with a shrug so effortless it makes him feel ridiculous for having built an entire private religion out of the way you breathe his name in the dark.

Harry drags a hand down his face. He really is a lovesick idiot. It is not dignified, pining like this in his own bedroom at twenty-one, especially when the whole world seems so convinced he is incapable of wanting anyone for longer than a night. Sometimes he almost wishes the public version of him were real. That boy would not be sitting here feeling sick over a text message. That boy would already be halfway out the door.

Almost annoyed by his own uselessness, Harry snatches his phone up again and unlocks it. Fine. You want him to find someone else? Brilliant. He will find someone else. He opens his contacts and scrolls. There are plenty. Too many, actually, names he saved in dressing rooms and afterparties, women introduced through friends, models, actresses, girls from nights already blurred at the edges. London numbers, LA numbers, numbers with no surnames, names with little details attached that seemed worth remembering at the time. He flicks past them with his thumb.

Amelia.

Bella.

Cara.

A girl called Jessa with a lipstick mark emoji beside her name, which makes him wince at himself. He keeps going, faster now, jaw tense. He knows what he is meant to feel. Mild interest, maybe. At least a spark of possibility. Enough to text one of them and say something easy and careless and familiar. But every name lies flat on the screen. No pull, no curiosity, no want. Just a dull, growing frustration, because each one is not you in a different way Not your laugh, not your sharp tongue when you’re tired, not the line of your shoulders when you stand in the studio with headphones on, listening more seriously than anyone realises. Not the absent way you reach for him when you’re half asleep, not the look you get sometimes, fleeting, almost frightened, when he is too gentle and you feel too much.

He gets to the bottom of the list without choosing anyone. The silence in the room seems to thicken around him. Harry lets out a breath that trembles at the edges and falls back against the headboard, phone resting uselessly in his hand. He feels childish all of a sudden. Childish and raw and absurdly jealous of a faceless man who, for all he knows, is currently making you laugh over drinks and your favourite pasta. Or maybe not. Maybe the date is awful. Maybe you are politely enduring it, checking the time when the bloke looks away, already planning an excuse to leave. The thought is hopeful enough to be humiliating.

Before he can stop himself, he taps back into your messages. Your chat opens to tonight’s exchange, to the blunt little proof of his own stupidity. Above it are dozens of older messages: late-night one-liners, schedule reminders, inside jokes, you telling him to bring coffee to rehearsals, him sending you badly cropped photos of Niall asleep with his mouth open, you telling him to shut up, affectionate without ever admitting affection. He stares at the text box. His thumb hovers over the keyboard. He could say something casual. Something harmless.

How’s the date?

No. Too obvious.

Still out?

Worse.

Something sharper, maybe, something joking enough to hide the bruise beneath it.

Hope he’s not boring you to death.

He actually types it. Stares at it. Hates how transparent it looks. Deletes it. Then, in a brief and shameful lapse of self-respect, a truer sentence rises up, one he would never let you see.

Come here instead.

For one mad second he imagines pressing send. Imagines your phone lighting up on the table. Imagines you reading it and standing so quickly your chair scrapes, throwing a rushed apology at your date before disappearing into the night, into a cab, into his house, into his bed, into him. The fantasy is so immediate it almost hurts. With a quiet curse, Harry deletes that too, every last letter, until the text box is empty again. He throws the phone onto the duvet with more force than necessary. “Get a grip,” he says to himself, voice rough.

Eventually, he switches off the lamp and slides down beneath the covers, though sleep feels unlikely now. In the darkness, the house settles around him with small, familiar noises. The pillows smell faintly of washing powder and whatever cologne lingers in his clothes. He turns onto his side, then onto his back, then onto his other side, as though there might be a position in which longing is less noticeable. There isn’t. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees you somewhere else. Across from another man at dinner. In the passenger seat of a taxi. Standing at someone else’s front door. Smiling, laughing, being looked at. He hates that most of all, the thought of someone else looking at you with intent, with admiration, with the kind of selfish hope he carries for you all the time.

He stares up at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach like he is trying to hold himself together. Tomorrow he will see you. Tomorrow you will walk into the studio as if tonight meant nothing at all. You will smile at him, maybe nudge his shoulder, maybe ask if he slept badly because there are shadows beneath his eyes and he looks grumpy. You will say it lightly, without cruelty, and he will have to answer lightly too. He will have to stand there and pretend he is not split open by things you do not even know you are doing.

He swallows hard and shuts his eyes again. Somewhere in London, you are still out. And Harry lies awake in his bed, wanting you with a force that feels older than reason, and far more helpless.

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