May Be The Last Teaser Hand In Hand With This And This. Stay Tuned. 

New York City- 10/4

#38 thank you so much for making this for us! 💕💕

Of course! Hope you like this one! 💜  xxx 

Prompt: “This is probably a bad time, but marry me?” 

[06] “Can you repeat the question?”

Harry really didn’t think this one through.

Which is pretty fucking odd if he thinks so himself. Because he nearly always thinks things through! He’ll do you one better, he’ll overthink till it drains him.

He’ll tear his hair out, pace back and forth and run far too many miles until he’s sure. 

He’ll lose sleep, oversleep and then run more miles just to get some clarity.

Harry likes to be sure.

So for a decision like this, he was sure he’d think on it for a solid month, maybe four. He’d make sure all his ducks were in a row. 

He wanted to be sure she knew who she was saying yes too (hopefully.) That she wasn’t gonna say yes and marry some knob. She doesn’t deserve a knob.

Harry had always heard of that moment where you just know. His dad told him about it once. But Harry scrapped that whole idea years later when his parents separated. But nonetheless, he still thinks his dad was onto something. Because he feels something. That something. 

Harry was absolutely sure that when he’d start to feel like this he’d start planning. He’d make sure she’s happy here, with him, like this for the long haul. That all of this is manageable for her, that she wants to stick around always for all the good and bad bits. And the complicated bits in between. Because there will be all three, there always is. But the bad bits don’t always look as bad when you have someone sitting next to you.

He knew he needed a good plan, a creative one. One that matched them both. Because he knows that if the roles were reversed she’d orchestrate and plan the best of its kind. Shit, she’d be damn good at proposing to him he reckons. But anyway, he wants that, wants her to have the big production from start to finish.

He knew he was supposed to snatch one of her rings, the plenty she keeps on the dressing table and start the search. But did he? No. He knew he had to ask her dad too, (he hadn’t) because if he was going to go all out, might as well go all out.  

But when Harry realized all of this, the whole ‘she’s the only one’ bit he didn’t lose a minute of sleep over a plan nor did he over sleep. He was very calm and comfortable. He’d actually never remembered a time he was this settled. His mind hadn’t raced once. So he didn’t put on his running shoes, nor tug on his hair…not once…not at all. He didn’t need to run anything off, not stress or nerves or any uncertainties. 

Truthfully, he didn’t recognize himself. He didn’t recognize the Harry that wasn’t in knots. He’s sure about this that’s why. No need to go out for a run or sleep and hope it comes to him in a dream.

So he thought of nothing. Not one detail, nothing. Only that he wants to. Wants this. Doesn’t want to be with anyone else ever. So maybe that’s more than enough. To know just that.

And here he is, knowing what he’s got to ask…what he’s got to get out. Because if he doesn’t do it now, it won’t happen for another month or three when he decides to overthink instead.  

He does want her to have the whole production. Flowers, him knelt on one knee and a ring in a box. He’ll do it over if she wants, ten times over even. This is her thing, the thing she’s probably dreamt about since she was young. But he finds it hard to believe that his girl, the one who gave him a hard time about getting a house together…also dreamt of getting fancily proposed to. She laughs and teases at those things. He’ll still do it though. Just to see that reaction if she wants.  Just to see those pretty cheeks redden. 

“Can’t even tell you hate those things.” He says grinning in continued disbelief each time. She still comes with him to every event. Every single one. Even if she’s got an exam the next day (which she does), work and school too and even when she’s cranky or mad at him. She still gets done up and links her arm into his. Every single time.

“I don’t hate them.” She says.

“You hate them.”

“Don’t put words into my mouth.” She rolls her eyes. “If I hated them I wouldn’t go. But I go for you. Support and whatnot. Whatever that is.” She teases, 

“You know you don’t have to?” He make sure. She doesn’t have to do anything. 

“I know,” she reaches behind her to pull down the zipper of her dress. She does know. “I know I don’t have to.”

“If you don’t want to you can just tell me, won’t be mad—”

“Where is this coming from Harry?” She turns to him from the mirror where she’s looking for the pesky zipper.

“Nothing, nothing.” He shakes his head. “Just don’t want you to keep doing things you don’t want to with me.”

“Stop that.” She glares.

“I just don’t want you to start resenting—”

“Harry!”

“What?”

“Where is this coming from? And can you drop it?” She crosses her arms, waiting. “I love you right? And m’aways proud of you s’why I come with you. Right?”

She’s right.  

He’s really just checking. He just wants to be sure that she’s still ok with all of this. That she hasn’t ever regretted anything or worse, maybe she’s unhappy. He’s always a bit wary that she doesn’t like this part and it’s quite a big one.

So god help him, he knows now. He always knew but he knows for sure now. When she’s slipping off those uncomfortable heels she hates and forgetting to put them in the closet where they belong. He knows when she’s taking out the pesky bobby pins in her hair as well as her earrings. When it’s half past one in the morning and she’s got an exam in eight hours. When she sits in an uncomfortable chair getting makeup done for hours when all she wants is to take their dog for a stroll in the park or nap. When she has to make sure she’s always got sunglasses in her bag even in rainy London because cameras are blinding. When she has to miss a few classes here and there because Harry is nominated for far far too many things.

“This is probably a bad time, terrible actually,” He starts. He wants to get that out of the way, that he knows he’s being crazy. Taking spontaneous to a whole new level. “Maybe not the worst, could think of a less fitting time…but—” He continues because is he really doing this? Now? Like this? Before he can answer himself it’s already rolling off his tongue, “Will you marry me?”

Her eyes widen, checking to make sure he’s just said what he said. Her head turns in question. Is he actually asking this…that question. And it isn’t rhetorical. None of it is. He hasn’t ever seen her speechless, her eyes wide and stunned for this long. For a moment, he’s sure she didn’t hear or maybe she did and doesn’t have an answer. Maybe she’s so stunned that he’d ask her now, with no flowers, no ring—

“Can you repeat the question?” She barely lets out. “Don’t think I heard you ri—

“I’ll go slower this time…” He inches closer to her which is nearly impossible since he’s already so close to her. And he doesn’t think she’s even blinked since or breathing at all. “So you hear all my words yeah?”

She nods slowly. That’d be a good idea she thinks. “Yeah,” she nods hurriedly. “Again please.”

He pushes her hair back off her shoulder, tucks the strands behind her ear. Maybe her pretty hair is blocking the sound waves. He cups her face, pulling her closer to him so she doesn’t miss it this time.

“Will. You. Marry. Me?” He punctuates every word, wants to make sure it gets through.

That is what he said she realizes. She heard it right the first time. 

“You’re not joking right?” She exhales. She’s been holding her breath apparently. 

“Love.” He whines.

“How am I supposed to know!” She laughs. “We haven’t talked about—”

“Yes we have!” He defends. 

“We talked about babies!”

“Told you I was going to get you pregnant the second we exchanged I do’s and whatnot because—”

“Well be more specific!” She whines.

“M’being specific now!” He reasons. “Asked you to be my wife specifically, just now!”

“And you mean it?”

“Love—”

“You’re not just—”

“I mean it.”

“Well ok then,” she sighs. “Glad we straightened that out.”

He looks at her, bewildered, searching for her answer. She’s forgotten the whole point! She’s looking back at him confused, what’s he waiting for? 

“Still haven’t given me your answer love…” He reminds her.

She thought she’d said it already or that it was implied because they do talk a heck of a lot about babies and whatnot. 

She’s shaking and her smile is wide. She’s covering her face, her warm cheeks and she can’t stand still. She’s quaking in his hold and giggles escape her.

“Yes,” she nods hurriedly as if the offer expires if she doesn’t in time. “I will, yes…want to marry you, yes….a whole lot. Yes!”

He exhales then too, his racing nerves find a resting place and he just has to be sure. “Yeah? Is that a yes? Yes you’ll marry me?”

“Yes!” She sighs shakily as he lifts her up by her waist to wrap around him. “Do you want to ask a third time?” She laughs. “Might ruin it a bit.”

“I might ruin it? You ruined it.” He mutters against her lips. “You thought I was moving April Fools to tonight.”

“You’re always doing silly things.” She says holding onto him tighter.

“Like asking you to marry me?”

“We’ll find out soon won’t we?” She grins. “You’re gonna have to go at it again though. An official one with a ring this time. A take two.”

“I know.” He groans. “Was trying to be spontaneous sue me!”

“We’ve got to get married first silly,” she kisses him. “That’s when the suing and legalities begin.”

“Don’t joke.” He settles into her, at her neck is his favorite. “S’never gonna happen.”

Because even if he didn’t fully think all of this through. Get all the ducks in a row, ring type clarity cut and all that. He’s sure of this. He’s sure of her and the question he meant with every word. He’s sure they’re going to last. No messy documents or yelling behind lawyers. That was never going to happen.

He wouldn’t have come out with, nearly vomited it up if he wasn’t sure. That he knows. And she knows that too, that they’re in it for the long run. She’s hinted far too many times at it and she’s whispering a ‘never’ back at him.

And now because of this, he’s starting to think he was wrong all this time. When he overthinks too much it usually means he isn’t going with his gut. He isn’t absolutely positively sure about it.

But he’s damn sure about this.

“Want the whole thing.” She grins.

“I know you do,” he sighs. “The whole thing.”

“Want you on one knee, non negotiable.”

“Non negotiable.” He agrees because it isn’t. He wants to see her reaction to something cheesy like that. She’d probably laugh with him and tell him to get up because he looks silly.

“Never mind actually, could you write it for me in the sky? All big and bold. Could have you fly out of that same plane and then—”

“Want me to rearrange the stars too? Have them spell out my question?”

“That’s a bit much isn’t it?” She enjoys teasing him.

“That’s where you draw the line?”

“M’not opposed to fireworks either.” She notes.

“I’ll get you some fireworks.” He says but says it in a way that means a promise. Like he just might get her those fireworks.

“I didn’t mean that, don’t do that.”

“Well be more specific!” He whines just like she did. She pinches his side in response and he grins against her neck.

She lets him carry her to their bed. She hasn’t fully pulled off her dress and there still might be a few bobby pins in her hair and her makeup is still on. But she sets all of that aside and lets him hover over her.

“Don’t redo it.” She whispers. “Don’t want a redo. Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I mean it.”

“Have to get you a ring though.” He mumbles into her neck looking for her dress zipper left unzipped. “You might forget you said yes. Want proof you agreed to marry me.”

“Then just that.” She smiles. “So I won’t forget.” She whispers as he finally slides down the zipper she couldn’t quite get.

“Didn’t even ask your dad either…” He remembers.

“You just couldn’t wait could you?” She grins and he just shakes his head against her neck.

He really couldn’t. And he can’t wait for the actual day either. A lot of not being able to wait is ahead. And he can’t wait.

speak to me/ request work here

( includes sexual content *) 

𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺

i. Checkmate* 

The one where you are an up-coming chess player and start to give world-renowned chess player, Harry Styles, a run for his money.

𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑺𝑯𝑶𝑻𝑺

i. Baby Steps *

The one where you’re his son’s therapist, and you help him along the way.

ii. The Secrets You Keep *

The one where you’re a stripper, and you don’t know how Harry will react.

iii. Swan Lake *

The one where you’re a ballet dancer, and Harry’s your new choreographer. 

iv. Lonely this Christmas *

The one where you’re broken up, but one Christmas party changes that.

v. Second Best *

The one where you think he prefers your sister, but he actually prefers you. 

vi. Summer of ‘63 *

The one where you’re the new volunteer at a hotel resort, and Harry’s the resident dancer.

vii. Drive On *

The one where you and Harry are keeping a secret from your brother, who happens to hate harry’s guts.

vii. Twisted in Bedsheets  *

The one where Harry visits France for the summer, and you end up falling in deep.

𝑩𝑳𝑼𝑹𝑩𝑺

i. Try Again Later * 

The one where you’re a virgin, and Harry takes it too far.

ii. Playing Doctor

The one where you’re sick, and your roommate Harry helps. 

all of this work is original and please don’t steal it :)

©enthusiasticharry™20/21

eXPLORE IT MORE MA’AM

here is the yachtrry w33d piece i promised for boyfriendathon!! sorry she’s quite late but you know how it is!! 

**smut warninggg

Within seconds, the red-hot ember is burning into your skin. You yelped, yanking his wrist up as you took a sharp inhale through your teeth. Sure enough, there was an angry little mark that was already swelling. 

“Oh, fuck. Baby, I’m so sorry. Fuck, are you okay?” He was instantly reaching for the icey glass of water in front of you.

“It’s not that bad,” you concluded with a sign in relief as he pressed the cold condensation to your skin. 

“Here, that’ll help with the pain.” Harry snorted, handing the joint back over so he could switch which hand held the glass. You smiled in approval and took an extra-long inhale just because you deserved it. 

The boat was barrelling toward Greece and the deckhands had informed you that if you positioned yourself downwind, there would be no issue with you smoking on board. You’d carefully selected your spot, falling onto the same deck chair with Harry as he sparked it. It was a rare moment for just the two of you on your trip. Of course, you were thrilled to be joined by so many of your friends but it left you and Harry with far less one on one time than you both desired. 

There was barely anything left when you flicked a large collection of ash into the tray a stewardess had brought. You passed the joint back to him with a guilty look as it looked even smaller in his hand. He raised a singular eyebrow in question before took a decent sized hit from what was left. His fingers were careful to avoid the small welt as his large, callused hands, shockingly absent of any jewelry, caressed over your buttery skin. He kept his hand on you as he leaned to stamp out the joint onto the tray.

He motioned you over to him as soon as his back was against the chair again and you gladly crawled into his lap, his arms crossing over your chest to hold you close to him. 

“Pretty fucking fond of you,” he hummed into your ear, his lips sponging a kiss to it as soon as he finished. You wiggled against him in satisfaction, nuzzling into him deeper. “Can’t wait to show you Greece.” His fingers began to trace the strap of your bikini top, his fingers teasing under the material to brush against your skin.

“Hey, H.” Jeff’s voice cut through, making Harry groan at the interruption. “Captain said another boat just reported some paparazzi ahead at that ridge, might be best to head in.” Harry went limp so his head came smacking against your shoulder, annoyance etched into his features with a scowl. Jeff threw him an apologetic shrug before turning back to the small group gathered at the hot tub at the front of the boat.

“C’mon, baby,” you encouraged, standing and wrapping the plush towel around your body. “Let’s go inside for a bit.” You reached out your hand for him, his body still splayed out like a rag doll. The trip had already experienced a few interruptions and it was really starting to wear him down. It was the first vacation the two of you hadn’t taken covert measures to meet up in private. You went to the airport together and the internet subsequently exploded with pictures. This created this sort of new fixation on the two of you. It was the most intense thing had been since in the two years you were dating and that was certainly saying something

Harry was having a hard time adapting. The last leg of his tour had been his most difficult yet. One of his crew members had fallen while working and gotten serious injured, which deeply troubled Harry. He’d wanted to cancel the show, make sure everything was safe and secure but with so much money and so little time to reorganize, the show still went on. However professional he might have been on stage, he was wracked with guilt and anxiety for the rest of the tour. Combined with the most extreme case of homesickness you’d even seen him encounter, he was more than ready for a little rest and relaxation. Which made these eagerness for photos of the two of you all that more annoying and intrusive. 

So, you figured you should bribe him. It was a small way you could reclaim your trip and Harry’s mood. Nothing better than sneaking off for a good bit of fondling so you two could enjoy your high tucked away. You shuffled back into the windows of  the yacht, your back pressed against the glass so you were completely blocked by the shape of the boat. Already so far out at sea, there weren’t any boats passing on the side of the balcony where he was still sitting. Though, someone passing through inside could easily catch an eyeful but it was a risk you were willing to take. 

You reached for the straps of your bikini, pulling it down your shoulders so the lycra yanked free from the curve of your breast. You puffed your chest out ever so slightly, as if in offering. As you exposed yourself to him, Harry froze in shock. His face was a a cocktail of intoxication, surprises, and sheer delight. 

“Take me inside, H.” 

He sprung up then and tossed his own towel onto the chair, immediately forgotten. You scooped yourself back into your top as Harry eagerly approached you. He waited just enough for you to situate yourself before firmly grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the interior doors. 

“See yas!” Harry called to your group of friends. “We’ll be inside for a bit.” He giggled as he pulled you past them, moving so fast that you barely had time to flash them an unassuming smile over your shoulder. 

As soon as your cabin door was shut, he was on you. His mouth was hungry as sucked deep, hot kisses against your lips. His hands started at your face, cradling your jaw so his mouth pressed tender and firm to yours. Then he slid them over your shoulder, down your arms, to your hips. He dragged you into him by your lower half so your hips knocked together. He wanted you so desperately, you could just feel it radiating off him. From how he held you to how he kissed you to the low whine that he emitted when you broke apart. You were swimming in him and your high. He panted heavily against your neck as you tried to get your bearings. He spongued his mouth down the column of your throat until he reached your collarbone. 

His hands smoothed up from your waist, caressing the supple skin as he kept them on a path upwards. He met the tie on the back of your bikini the same instant he started to move you two toward the bed. You blindly followed his lead, taking little backward steps as he steered you until the your legs met the comforter.

He pulled one of the loose ends to untangle the bow of your top, pecking randomly across your chest. He glanced up at you, mouth still poised on your body, as he slowly peeled the top off you. Your skin is still cold from your ocean swim a few hours ago and goosebumps scattered over your naked breasts as his warm breath fanned across you. Your nipples instantly pebbled, your sensitivity rising as his mouth inched closer and closer. 

His kisses were still fiery, building tension in the pit of your belly and eagerness in your center. No matter how many times he had touched you, he always felt exciting. You had fleeting worries that one day he might wake up and never crave you like always had. That the ravenous feeling would die out and he would either resent you or grow bored of what you had to offer. But those feelings felt a billion miles away when he was moving against you like that. Moaning weakly against your skin at just the sight of you. 

Carefully, he pushed you down onto the bed. He grinned in anticipation as your body bounced gently against the mattress and your legs instantly spread for him. You stretched out your hands to him, inviting him to hover over you. He shook his head with his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to head the devilish smirk as his hands reached for your ankles. 

He dragged you down the bed. Stopping when your ass reached the edge of the mattress and plummeting to his knees in front of you. He grabbed ahold of your leg, reangling it to hang off his shoulders so you were open to him. 

His hands made quick work of rolling your swimsuit bottoms off, the sound of your heaving breaths swirling around you. You felt light, like you were and Harry were just floating together, everything else unimportant. Just the two of you, weightless and wrapped in each other. He was all you cared about, clearly marked by how loud your moans were growing as he kissed a zig zagged path up between both your thighs, laying on kiss to your right thigh before turning, inching up high and pressing another to your left. 

You shifted impatiently, sinking down the bed so your core was closer to him. He laughed quietly, a sound you can feel vibration through him with your leg slung over his chest. But his mouth keeps the same tempered speed as he inches up, pecking gently where each of your legs connect. His mouth circled your pussy, his mouth ghosting around the sensitive skin before his tongue slid over your folds. He sighed contently when he’s met with your slickness, his tongue licking over you in bold, flat strokes. He warmed you up like that, his tongue keeping an even rhythm as your cunt grows slicker under his mouth. 

Your fingers met the fringe of his hair, momentarily scrambling to pinch the clip out of his hair to be blindly tossed across the room. You tugged against the strands, his lips now working to suction over you, his tongue sinking euphoric circles around your clit. 

“Harry,” you gasped, your voice caught in your throat as you fought to speak over the moans slipping from your mouth. “More, please. Baby, give me more.” 

He dove into you further, his face buried against your pussy as his mouth worked over you furiously. You were almost positive any passerby could hear the obscene noises coming from between your bodies but you couldn’t care, just egged him on louder. 

“Yes, fuck, Harry. Yes!”

He devoured you, his saliva mixed with your wetness and dripped down his chin. His mouth was focused and knowing, his hands gripping under your ass so he could hold you against his mouth. As your belly twisted with your orgasm, your heel dug into his back and he held his mouth over you, keeping even pressure with his tongue on your clit as you came. You weren’t even aware of what sounds you were making, just the shuddering over your body and the throb in your center. 

He laid a delicate kiss to the top of your mound before he pulled away, the bottom half of his face glimmering in what little sunlight seeped through the blinds. His eyes were droopy but his grin was proud as he stood and he didn’t bother wiping his mouth before he dropped himself next to you on the bed. 

Harry rolled over lazily so your mouths could meet, the traces of alcohol and weed masked behind the taste of sex. He sighed, quite chuffed with himself as you parted, still holding you close. 

“Quick nap before we go again, yeah?”

I've always thought about making H eat his own cum out of Y/N

What an Attacc™..,.,.,

He would do it at times. Right after he’s fucked her real nice and raw and she’s laying there before him, splayed out across the damp sheets, breathing rattling as her hair matts across her sweaty neck and chest. He’s sitting back on his heels, staring at her fondly with a slightly arrogant smirk on his face because he knows only he could do this to her. Only his cock could reduce her to such a primal and emotionally bare state.

Harry has his hands on Y/N’s thighs, thumbing over the heated skin with care and comfort, trying to help her reign back down into reality. He glances down between her legs, digging his two front teeth against his bottom lip as he sees himself spilling out of her, staining the sheets milky white and as well as tainting him with newfound desire.

So he leans down, pulling her wide hips towards his face, suckling the plush flesh of her inner thighs lightly as he makes his way towards her dripping heat, rubbing his nose gently across the simmering skin to take in the scent of utter sex she exudes, swimming in the way her knees begin to quake in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, pet. Jus’ gonna lick into you, s'all. Nothing too extreme…yet.”

He laps his tongue slowly over Y/N’s slick folds, toying the tip against the sensitive bud for only a second, smiling against her when he hears a sharp whine in response. And then he’s nose deep in her cunt, wetting his cheeks with a mixture of his release as well as her own, savoring his saltiness across his tastebuds along with tinges of her sweetness. His eyes roll into the back of his head, soft little moans and hums of appreciation vibrating into her core.

Harry can feel all the juices collecting at the corners of his mouth and running down his chin, which only pushes him to go in deeper, tongue wriggling it’s way into her tight hole to get every last drop out. He moves his face from side to side slowly, button nose knocking against the thick of her clit, which in return causes her to grab at his hair, tugging harshly in overstimulation.

He pulls back, wiping his face down messily with the palm of his hand, suckling his lips into his mouth as his irises twinkle with a narcissistic form of satisfaction.

“Fuck’s sake, babe. We taste so bloody good together.”

I ADORE Eden and Harry but I also really really really love your writing so if possible could you do a normal piece (not Eden and Harry I'm sorry I love them but it wouldn't work for this request if you're willing to write it but ofc you don't have to!) where Harry is an asshole to 'y/n' even though she's super sweet to him pleaseeeee? I feel like you'd write angst really well! Only if you have time though!! Thank you, hope you're well :) x

Thank you for all the kind words!  I’m not as familiar with angst…am I writing it without knowing it? I just wouldn’t be able to find it exactly in something I’m reading or writing. But I tried my best with this one, hopefully you deem it worthy of what you had in mind! I think I like it so hopefully that means something! I hope you’re doing well also! 😘

reminder since things have changed since this request was made: [requests are closed until October.] 

[04] “He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.”

She isn’t bothered. Isn’t rattled, taken back or discouraged by it at all.

She knows he’s anxious, stressed and all the other words that fall under the same umbrella.

It isn’t an excuse for him to act like this. It’s a factor, but it isn’t an excuse. She knows that, she thinks she knows that. Maybe, she wants to know that.

He’s waiting for a call he isn’t even sure he’ll get. The one about the role he’s been praying for since leaving the place he auditioned for it.

So, she gets it. She does. She gets it. It just doesn’t make things simpler, or easier to handle. But she understands it…on most days.

But she still tries, for whatever it’s worth, on the off chance that today or maybe even tomorrow will be a better day. So she spends her Saturday outings (the ones they used to take together) alone. Which she’s willing to do, with a hope that in a few Saturdays from now he’ll join her.

“Found these monogrammed mugs for us whilst I was out. Looking at them now they’re a bit silly aren’t they…” She still smiles looking at them as he finishes his late breakfast. “S’just one of those things right, you see the first letter of your name and you just have to have it.” She sets them down in the sink to wash them, always have to wash the things you buy before using them. “We’ve got too many fancy mugs anyway, these are more us right? Less uptight maybe?”

He doesn’t answer, maybe he hums in response but that might as well have been silence.

→ → →

Harry still hasn’t used his monogrammed mug. That’s fine, she isn’t bothering herself with that for too long. Maybe he isn’t in the mood for a hot drink or maybe he’s just too busy for one.

But it’s not that he hasn’t used it for his morning brew, nighttime tea or any of the aforementioned. He’s thrown his out. Properly, threw it out. In the bin. The monogrammed mug is in the bin.

She wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t peeled that clementine and looked for where to throw out the peels. But she did. At first she thought maybe because it had a crack in it. (But she could have just returned it if he had seen one.) Or maybe it wasn’t microwave safe, but what mug isn’t? And she checked just to be sure before she bought it.  

But it’s in the bin now.

For no good reason.

And she pulls it out just as he comes down the stairs for someone at the door.

“You don’t like it? Didn’t have throw it out…” she shrugs grabbing for an apple. “There are nicer ones on Etsy.”  

“We’ve got plenty. We don’t need anymore bloody mugs.”

They’ve got twelve, maybe two more than that. But that isn’t plenty. That’s six or seven between the both of them. And she has tea twice a day and so does he. So she knows it isn’t about the excess or lack of mugs that’s ticking him off.

“Well good morning to you too,” she mutters before biting into her apple.

→ → →

The next day is something else. Like it always is. It’s always something else.

Her friend dropped her cat off with them. With her. (She isn’t sure if Harry will be around much.) But she thinks she’s a suitable cat sitter all on her own. She prefers dogs but she likes the way cats know what they want, and what they don’t want. And maybe this could be a chance to show him that they really should get a friend.

What’s unsettling, perhaps disappointing (the common theme for the last few weeks) is that Harry doesn’t even notice. Let alone ask why there’s a cat in the middle of his living room. Doesn’t ask if she’s rescued it from a nearby tree or rescued it from a shelter.

So she fills in his blanks, the ones he’s not looking for.

“Fleur’s, she’s going on holiday, Portugal I think so I told her we’d watch her cat. I can do it, you’re busy I know.” She smiles up at him. “But you like cats, thought it’d be good for you, for a few days—”

“Keep him, don’t keep him…” he slips on his coat as he shows her just how much he couldn’t  care less. “Your friend isn’t she?” He glances at his phone.

“He’s soft,” she grins. “Good too, keeps to himself for the most part. I know they all do but—”

She can’t complete her argument about how even though most cats keep to themselves he’s extra good. And she wants to add how most of them are independent and love you just enough for you not to get too spoiled. But he’s taking a phone call she knows is important before she can say any of that.  

“Haven’t got many toys for you to play with,” she pets the small thing as she wonders how small paws like those get him around. “Or do you just make everything into a toy of yours?”

“Got to step out for a bit.” He looks back down at his phone.

“It’s raining,” she looks to the window at her right. “You’ve got an umbrella?”

And he’s out the door before he can give her answer that he wouldn’t have given anyway. She’s surprised he’s even told her that he’s off somewhere. She can’t wish him a good day because the door shuts without a word.

“He’s not usually like this, you’ve just come on a bit of a rough day…rough week…weeks.” She assures the cat on its back. “How’s he usually?” She asks, because the cat is asking. “Not like this, but it’s a been a while since then…think I forgot a bit how he’s usually. Maybe this is the new usually…”

She doesn’t want it to be, needs it not to be but there just isn’t a flicker of light at the end of this tunnel. And she can’t remember a time where there was.

He isn’t usually like this, that’s the thing. He’s never like this. She doesn’t know this, she didn’t know this before it happened. And that’s pretty hard if she says so herself. To deal with something she never expected. She knows that’s usually how it goes but still. He’s still her Harry that isn’t like this.

“Good thing you’re just visiting. Not that I don’t like you, I do, but you wouldn’t have much fun here now. Maybe once he’s got that role he’s chasing so bad he’ll be back. Then you and I can throw a party for him. And you’ll see how he usually is.”

The cat understands.

→ → →

That evening it’s something else. Like it always is.

“We can go out, eat at that place your mum said was really nice,” she turns her head to him in the kitchen from the couch she’s sat on. “Or the one raved about in the paper yesterday.”

“Not tonight.”

“I know you’re still waiting for that call, you’ll get it though. M’not just saying that either.” She sets her bookmark down in between the pages of her book. “You know I don’t go around saying things I don’t mean.”

No answer.

“Think the cat agrees as well. And he doesn’t even know you that well yet.”

No answer.

“Oh, your dad called, said he wanted to take us to dinner. Well actually, he wanted us to come over. Said he has a new recipe he wants to test out. Wants us to be lab rats for a night.”

“When’s that?”

“He said if tomorrow works—”

“Did you tell him we were coming?”

“No, not ye—

“Good.” He kicks off his boots. “Coz we’re not.”

“But—”

“Need to have a shower.”

→ → →

The next day is something else, brings something else.

It’s that food fair at Regent’s Park she wants to go to.

It’s that fair at Regent’s Park that she knows she’ll have to beg for him to come to…it’s that one she knows he won’t come to.

It’s not like she’s gonna ask him to ride the carousel they have there. (Even though it’s a nice one.) So she doesn’t see why he could say no. It’s a food fair.

And she’s willing to bring out all the logistics she’s already thought about. They wouldn’t even have to drive, the tube will do just fine. Would bring them right to it, that way he doesn’t have to be fussed with parking when he really doesn’t want to be fussed with anything.

But before she could, he seemed too annoyed with the fact that she hadn’t gotten the right type of orange juice. (They all taste like oranges don’t they?)

She’s used to it, him getting mad at her for the smallest things that he’s got no grounds for.

So she doesn’t ask about the food fair at Regent’s park.

She figured going with the cat would be more of the same thing either way.

So she went with Harry’s PA. She’s the one who told her about it. Said it’d be something fun for him to do. Get out of the house for a bit, even though he’s worried about leaving because there might not be cell service wherever he might be going. (There’s cell service at Regent’s park. She checked. Double checked. Was about to triple check…)

The food fair was what it was. A food fair. And there were too many kids on that one carousel she liked and she wasn’t in the mood for feeling silly. Not when Harry’s not there to be silly with her either. Because she’s old and some small kid with a runny nose might tell her she’d break it.

If Harry were there he’d know what to say to that supposed kid with a runny nose. That maybe if she’d break it, he’d shatter it. He wouldn’t say that though, he’d probably tell the kid he was going to build her one. One much bigger and better than this small thing.

So she passes it by it as Harry’s assistant asks the same questions about him like she always does.

She’s sick of answering to other people about him too. Because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know why he’s got to act like this. She knows why, but she doesn’t know why he’s choosing to let it affect him this way.

Because when she gets this way, when she’s anxious…waiting for something. She’s got to do something else. Take a bath, a few. Go to a food fair. Go to that restaurant raved about in the paper.

And there’s only so many excuses she can come up with. Harry can’t have the flu for two weeks, or hay fever on a Monday and a stomach bug on a Wednesday.

They all start thinking it’s got something to do with her at some point. She thought so too at some point, she still lets that sink in sometimes. That he’s acting this way because things aren’t good between them anymore. That maybe he’s had it.

But she assures them (while she isn’t assured at all) that he’s just feeling overwhelmed and anxious. Which sounds a lot better. And a lot blander, and a lot more of what she’d like it to be instead.

When she gets back, he’s cranky again. He’s cranky and wondering why his personal assistant isn’t answering her phone. He’s supposed to read through the scripts for the other projects he’s been sent. But how can he do that if he hasn’t even seen them yet? And he’s just as cranky to his girlfriend because wasn’t she just with her?

“She did call you, I was there…” she prepares herself for his usual behavior. “You weren’t answering her so she dropped them off with me. Just told me not to peak or anything since they’re classified and for your eyes only.” She sets them down on the kitchen island.

“She can’t even do her lazy job,” he stacks them up irritably.

“She—” she begins but lets it evaporate into the tense air. Because what difference is that sentence gonna make?

→ → →

“Harry, Harry!” She climbs onto their big bed where he sits reading the stack of pages delivered to him. “They’ve put them back on the menu! The samosas we really like! They’re back!”

He likes them just as much as she does so he’s got to have some type of a reaction.

But he doesn’t have one.

“Can we go? Won’t take long, we can take them to go since you’ve got all this to read.”

“Not tonight.”

“What about this weekend, you pick a time. I’ll follow.” She fixes some loose strands of his hair that probably are bothering him but he’s too invested to worry about anything else.

“M’busy,” he mumbles with a pen in between his lips and more importantly he says her name right after. And he hardly ever does that, only when he’s not being him.  

“Maybe next week.” She scoots off the mattress, convincing herself that next week will be better.   He doesn’t answer her.  

Later when she’s in the bath, trying to wash or scrub away the day she tries to think of new ways. New ways to get him back to what he was. She knows that this has to be one of those ‘wait it out’ type of things. But she doesn’t know if she’s willing to stand by that for much longer.

She calls, she calls his PA nearly every day. Needing to know when Harry will expect the call he’s been waiting for. And she doesn’t know either.

So it really is about waiting it out. Waiting it out until the water runs cold.

She’s busy playing with bubbles and thinking of new things to get him back to her when he walks in.

A bath, she’s never thought of that. A bath cures everything. Washes, kneads and melts away all the worries. They’ve got a nice one too, spacious and pearly white.

“Wanna come in? The water’s still warm.”

No answer.

She sighs loudly through her lips before submerging herself fully in the water as he turns the shower on. She likes it here, under. But she’s got to come back up at some point, when her lungs nearly give out.

She’s undecided. And that’s not a fun place for her to be either. She can’t decide if she’s hurt or angry or understanding. She doesn’t know if she’s managing understanding well anymore either. Because hurt is seeping in and it’s dragging anger along for the ride.

When she’s out of the bath, soft and still warm she heads downstairs for one last bedtime snack. The one she isn’t supposed to have. Because she’s trying to kick the habit of something sweet before bed. But she’ll start that tomorrow.

“Why is my mum calling about lunch this Wednesday?” Harry asks coming down the stairs as she sits on the couch with her oreos.

“I called her, well I called her back, she’s been ringing you about having lunch—”

“Christ—why’ve you got to meddle into every little thing!”

“I didn’t—”

She chooses not to complete her sentence because she knows it won’t do anything. He won’t understand anything from it. The completley innocent motive behind it. “Didn’t mean to, sorry Harry.” She gets up from no longer comfortable spot on the couch.

She wants to say that she didn’t, she isn’t meddling. His mum just hasn’t seen him in nearly two weeks, and hasn’t heard from him in about the same time.

He keep his line open, barely answers any other calls just in case the call he’s waiting for is comprised because of a food order he wants to make over the phone. So Anne called her to see why that is and frankly, she didn’t know what to answer. She can only us the words stressed and busy so many times.

She didn’t mean to let his mum know he was fine and that her usual visit is still a go. She probably should have checked his schedule first but he didn’t think he’d have anything scheduled for that same time.

It rushes in at right about now, at how all of these last few weeks have made her feel. They made her feel stupid, genuinely stupid. She feels stupid for keeping at this. For taking it, for sitting there and taking it. Blow after blow.

She hasn’t been able to lay a finger on what is that she’s feeling while he goes through his storm of feelings. But she thinks she’s found it. She feels dumb.

And once she’s found it, after digging deep she decides she doesn’t want to feel dumb anymore.

There are plenty of rooms, too many for just the two of them. So she chooses, not at all like goldilocks would because she’s much too tired but she happens upon one. She doesn’t care if he notices or he doesn’t. She just needs to not feel like she’s a speck of sand or gum stuck on his shoe. One minuscule and the other a bother. And she feels like both with him.

The cat’s followed her and managed to make it onto the guest bed. She pets their cat for a week slowly. Keeps doing so as she settles into the unfamiliar bed. Keeps doing so until the door opens.

“Was looking for you, what are you doing in here?” He asks even though he understands when he sees her in bed.

“Think you need your space for a bit,” she adjusts her pillow, nearly punches it to get it just right. And Harry wonders if she wants to do the same to him. Just maybe. “In addition to the rest of the space you’ve been keeping.”

“Stop,” he sighs. “Stop being silly, get up love.”

“Don’t want to.” She answers honestly. “S’not like it’s any different than how it’s been.”

“How’s it been?”

“Where you’re at the other end of the bed avoiding me like I’ve got the plague or something you could catch. Bunch of silence too. And maybe I need some of that space and silence now.”

“And what would you need space and silence from?”

“You.” She turns the beside lamp off.

“Me?” He asks turning it back on.

“You.” She turns it back off.

“Why me?” He turns it back on.

“Being around you makes me feel like I might as well be here to pull your teeth.”

“Where’d you get that—”

“You do this, you always do this!” She doesn’t care if he won’t believe her. It’s the truth. She’s been around to know for sure. “Stop unleashing all of your stress on me, I’m here for you! I’m on your side! Always been on your side!”

It’s not that he’s surprised she’s yelling, he knows she’s got a yell or two in her. He’s taken back that it’s him, just him that’s making her yell. She’s not yelling to let off steam about something her mum said to her, something that happened at work, or something she saw. It’s just because of him.

“You don’t see me angry with you about orange juice when I’ve got back to back exams in a week!” She yells and if she could yell louder she would. It’s her turn now. “You know what I do instead? I go with you to whatever event it is you need to show your face at! Even if it’s the day before an exam!” She’s done that, and she’ll keep doing that for him. “You know why! Because my stress hasn’t got anything to do with you! I know how to keep them separate! And if I feel like m’about to unleash it all on you just because you happen to be the one in the room in that moment, I tell you! That I need a minute because I don’t want to blow up on you!”

“I—”

“M’not done!” She yells. “I know exams about child behavior aren’t ever going to be some fancy role in a film but it’s just as important to me! Just as stressful for me! And I don’t shut you out or ignore you as I wait for results!”

She still isn’t done.

“Had a week off right, a a week ago, for Easter. And you spoke a handful of words to me the entire time. For someone who’s always complaining about not seeing me, not being able to take me on holiday…interesting choice of action.”

She still isn’t done, just a bit left.

“M’on your team. Always have been, and you’ve always been on mine. So start acting like it.”

She catches her breath. “M’done now.”

“So what do you want now? What have I got to—”

“I want to turn this light off without you turning it back on. And I want to sleep in here with the cat you haven’t even acknowledged.”

“Gonna sleep alone, in here all night?”

“M’here aren’t I?”

“When m’I gonna fix this then?” He asks worriedly. Because even though he doesn’t exactly how to just yet (he’s dug himself that deep) he still needs to.

“Tomorrow.”

So he’s going to let her sleep here. Even if he absolutely dreads sleeping alone. Might as well not sleep at all. But he’s going to let her. Because from all that she’s been revealing to him, she deserves this all. Some space for herself and for him to feel how that’s like.

He turns the light off so she can get to it.

“Sleep well love,” he kisses her shoulder because he isn’t sure she’ll let him that much. And he does pet the cat, even if it hates him just as much he thinks his girl does. He is soft. “Gonna watch her for me right?” He whispers.

→ → →

It takes Harry a few days to fix it all. With a tool box of things he can think of.

It started with the samosas they like and ended with the carousel at Regent’s Park. (The food fair won’t be back till August.) But he still left his phone at the house and she had to double check and make sure he knew he was doing so.

And somewhere in between it was the mugs as well.

“Got the mugs, the nicer ones from Etsy.” He tells her when she walks into the kitchen.

“We don’t have too many?” She asks.

“Threw some of the boring ones out to make room.” He shrugs taking the orange juice he didn’t want three days ago from the fridge. And he pours some into the mug she bought him as he holds the cat in the other. It tastes just like oranges, and it tastes better than the kind he’s used to. It’s because of the mug and he knows so.

And the cat understands.

that makes four.

PART 8 - playlist

You fiddled with the bracelet on your wrist, tugged at an earring and smiled when a group of unfamiliar faces passed by. Jeff’s birthday parties were always well attended, but this year felt different since you knew you would--and planned to--bump into Harry.

You sipped on the drink in hand--vodka with soda and some kind of juice mixed in by the bartender who complimented your necklace.

Now, in the upstairs private dining room at a restaurant in Malibu, you ignored the face Tristan made when he took a sip of his own concoction. “This has too much grapefruit juice--do you want to switch?”

“Sure,” you pushed yours forward and swapped, already taking a sip when Tristan eyed you suspiciously.

“Wait, don’t you hate grapefruit?”

“I don’t care,” you shrugged, another scan of the crowd. He wasn’t here--at least, not yet. Tristan cleared his throat and let out a sigh.

“Okay, is this how the whole night is going to be? You just anxiously waiting to confess your love?”

“I’m not going to confess my love,” you clarified. “I’m just going to chat with him, see how he’s doing and if his house is finished. Take the temperature, y’know.”

Everyone had pretty much stayed out of it. Even Jeff, for the most part. Aside from showing up in your kitchen with a bag of donuts to bribe your kids, he’d left you alone and didn’t pester you over and over about making a big mistake.

You could admit it now, partially, when you were alone at night wondering if you’d grow old in this house and be single forever. You could admit it when you drove to the office and wished there was someone to come home to, someone who’d cook dinner, and listen to how annoying Tristan had been in the afternoon meetings or at events like this.

In the back of your head it was a truth you’d always known: life with Harry in it was better than any alternative.

But now you could admit it.

Which is why your heart dropped to the floor when you saw him hug someone on the other side of the room in greeting, Tristan pulled you by the shoulder behind a wall and you both peered around the corner, watched as he found Jeff and clapped him on the shoulder in celebration.

Was it childish? Was your hardcore crush that had somehow turned into more a complete waste of time? Maybe. You’d been telling yourself for so long that nothing could ever come of sex with someone eight years younger that you didn’t even give enough room for the possibility to breathe and potentially flourish.

“I’m going to need another drink before I have to face him.”

Tristan laughed. “So are we going to hide over here until that happens?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “But you can go get me another one to make me chill the fuck out.”

“Do you parent your children with that mouth?” he teased, taking your almost drink.

You nudged Tristan toward the bar and kept watch, Harry mingled with people you knew and some you didn’t--made his way around the room and up to the bar twice. You wondered if he’d meant all of the sweet things he said: I wanted to defend you, I’ve been waiting for this to happen.

If you’d known back then how you felt now--alone, sad, and filled with regret--you would have played your cards differently. But how were you supposed to know that something like this, something unexpected and strange would feel so right and could actually be what you needed?

After you finished the drink that Tristan returned with, you smoothed out the dress you were wearing and asked: “anything in my teeth?”

“No, but you look like an angry chihuahua.”

“Funny. Okay--if I look like I’m failing, come intervene and pretend to be super drunk or something.”

“I will not be doing that.”

“Okay,” you nodded, knowing it would be a tough sell. “Wish me luck.”

“Be brave!”

You elbowed into the crowd and snuck by groups of people, mumbled apologies as you tried to keep a new drink from spilling over the sides. He was with Jeff, a cocktail in hand when you came up behind him. Jeff’s eyes landed on you and then he tried to cut Harry off.

“Harry--”

“I just think it’s a bad idea, you know?”

Jeff’s eyes were wide when he greeted you. “Y/N--hi, we were just talking about the album.”

“Hi,” you bit out, forced a smile and tried to ignore the anxiety that buzzed down your spine.

They were talking about you, right? That level of intensity in Jeff’s eyes used to be reserved for nights when you’d snuck vodka from his parent’s liquor cabinet and now one of them came home earlier than expected.

You swallowed, wondered for a second if you should turn around and leave, grab Tristan and head for the door and hope you never had to see him again. “Sorry, I’m interrupting, I guess.”

“No,” Harry shook his head, stepped aside to let you move closer. “We were just talking business. How are you? I didn’t know if you’d come tonight.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, blinked a few times in confusion. You knew Jeff first--he was arguably your friend and Harry’s manager. If anyone was going to have claim over Jeff, it was you. You had thirty-two years of proof to back that up.

Jeff could sense this, he laughed a little and offered you a sarcastic grin. “Of course she’s here--she’s the sister I never wanted.”

You faked a laugh in his direction but then looked back at Harry, who’s eyes were glued to yours like his life depended on it.

Jeff nodded at his failed joke and the tension in the air, took a sip of his drink and looked between the two of you.

“Could Harry and I maybe talk for a minute, Jeff?”

He widened his eyes, wrinkled his forehead in surprise but then nodded quickly. “Yeah, sure--I’ll just--I’ll be over there.”

He hurried away, looked over his shoulder when Harry pursed his lips in a firm line and tried not to laugh at Jeff’s awkwardness.

“Hi,” you said quickly.

“Hi,” he smiled a bit. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“First time we’ve been at the same party, after all these years.”

He furrowed his brow. “M’starting to think Jeff was purposely keeping us apart.”

“That would explain a lot,” you laughed. “How are you?”

“Good,” he nodded. “How are you?”

“Also good,” you lied. “Yeah--busy, you know. The girls have a lot of extracurriculars but--”

It felt strange, interacting with him without the interruption of hands grabbing for snacks before dinner or pleading questions to stay up later and watch TV. He seemed to watch you closely, his lips set in a firm line when you trailed off.

“Right, is the body wash doing well?”

“Great, yeah, sales are through the roof,” you lifted your hand to gesture along with your words, then immediately felt stupid when he let out a tiny laugh that made your heart swell and break in the same moment. You had to spit it out, take a leap of faith and hope that you wouldn’t crash to the ground in failure.

“But, I actually just wanted to let you know--”

Of course--with your luck and your karma and apparently the entire universe now conspiring against you and Harry--someone put a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey!” he turned to greet them, clearly excited and surprised. “Oh my god, I didn’t know you were coming!”

A man and woman, around your age, fancy clothes. They both hugged him, smiled apologetically at you when he angled his shoulders to face them and ask a thousand questions: when did you get to LA, how long will you be here, are you free for dinner this week?

You shifted on your feet uncomfortably and this prompted Harry to snap back to reality. “Sorry, Y/N, these are my friends Percy and Lillian,” he turned back to them. “You guys should go get drinks, the bartender is amazing.”

They nodded, moved in that direction when he called after them. “Get me another, just a sex on the beach.”

You pulled your head back and eyed him. “You drink sex on the beach?”

He laughed and looked back down at you, “I love peach schnapps--but, sorry, that was rude of me--you were going to say something?”

“Right,” you nodded, wind gone from your sails as you rerouted. “I just wanted to let you know that CeCe’s ballet recital is coming up. She’s been begging for you to come. I can text you the details?”

“Oh, right!” He smiled. “Yeah, text me, I’ll definitely be there. And I’m still good to do dinner with them this week if they’re up for it?”

“Oh, they’re up for it,” you admitted.

“And CeCe’s birthday is Thursday, right?”

“Right.”

“Great,” he leaned in and kissed you on the cheek, the Brit in him slipping out before he stammered. “Sorry--I just--I should go catch up with them.”

He rushed off at that, smiling when he rejoined his friends by the bar, completely unaware of the awkward conversation he’d just narrowly missed. Tristan, whose lips were wrapped around a paper straw, sidled up beside you with a disapproving look on his face.

“I can’t hear anything over the noise in here but I’m going to guess you didn’t actually tell him how you feel.”

“No,” you shrugged, “of course not. He and Jeff were definitely talking about me when I walked up and so that was weird and Harry said something about it being a bad idea. And then I was going to but those people showed up and then I panic-invited him to CeCe’s ballet recital!”

“Where Luke is supposed to be?”

“Where Luke is supposed to be,” you confirmed. “Because I’m a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he frowned. “But that definitely just created more stress for you.”

“I know, it was dumb but I haven’t had more than one glass of wine in a few weeks and now I just think I should go home.”

“Boo,” he frowned. “Don’t be a party pooper. Have another drink and judge people with me.”

“I can’t even enjoy that right now because I’m so stupid.”

“Oh my god,” Tristan groaned. “Just go interrupt and tell him you love him or something!”

“You what?” Jeff was behind you when you turned around quickly.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, another sip to drown out his laughter on the other side of the room.

“You love him?”

“Why’d you ask what if you heard her?” Tristan made a face.

Jeff was serious, though, he wasn’t taking any bait. “Y/N, are you in love with him?”

You let out a groan and stomped a foot on the ground. Maybe it was the alcohol or the close proximity to someone you didn’t want to love, but you whined and answered him. “I don’t know, Jeffrey, okay? Now is not the time to discuss all of this.”

“You have to tell him that.”

“Yeah, well, why do you think I asked you to give us some time to talk?”

He pointed a finger to the floor. “You were going to tell him here?”

You rolled your eyes at all of his questions, and apparently, his shock at this discovery. “No, I don’t know. I was just going to see if he missed us or something, I don’t know!”

“Oh, he misses you,” Jeff nodded with confidence.

“Well whoever those people are showed up,” you gestured in their direction, threw your chin towards the girl who had better eyebrows than you and a smile as wide as the Mississippi. “Kind of interrupted.”

Jeff looked over and nodded, hands on his hips when he let out another breath, apparently still taking all of it in.

“Wait--speaking of interrupting, what was he saying when I came over? You did that whole wide-eyed shut the fuck up look you used to do when your mom would walk in the room.”

He sipped his drink casually when he recalled the moment. “It was nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It was nothing, Y/N!”

“He said something was a bad idea.”

“Yeah, music shit.”

“Or Y/N shit?” Tristan challenged, a flick to Jeffrey’s shoulder with his free hand.

Jeff rolled his eyes at both of you. “How many drinks have you people had?”

“Enough to handle being in the same room with him right now.”

“Wow,” Jeff nodded, unimpressed. “You really do love him.”

You smacked him in the chest playfully and ignored his statement. “Are you going to tell me what you were saying about me?”

“Oh my god,” he complained, a grand gesture to let you know just how annoying you were. “He just said that it feels really weird to not live with you guys--I told him to tell you that and he said he thinks that’s a bad idea. But then you interrupted us, so that’s all the intel I have.”

“See?” You turned to Tristan, “I knew this was all stupid. I would have told him that I miss him and he would have shot me down.”

“You don’t know that,” Jeff held up his hand.

“Then why did he say it would be a bad idea?”

He shook his head in disbelief, made a face like you were stupid. “Maybe you don’t know this, Y/N, but he was really hurt when you asked him to move out. I’ve seen him break up with people before but--that rocked his world.”

Jeff referenced the event like it was a distant memory, like it was more than two weeks that now stood between you and the fateful launch party.

“Well he hurt me when he was late and didn’t tell me. I don’t want to live my life always wondering if he’ll show up--I already did that with Luke.”

“He’s not Luke,” Jeff said seriously, his demeanor suddenly shifting. “But if you’re going to treat him like he is, then nothing will ever work between you two.”

You shrunk back, even in a half-drunk state you could tell you’d struck a nerve in Jeff. Tristan sipped at his drink again and the silence between the three of you felt deafening.

“I just think you need to be honest with him. If you have feelings for him, tell him.”

“That was the plan tonight,” you admitted. “Maybe it will work some other day.”

“Well you need to figure something out soon. I’m sick of both of you being so scared to admit it to the other.”

“You’re filling in the blanks for him,” you reminded. “He said it was a bad idea.”

“Because he doesn’t want to get hurt again,” Jeff nodded.

“Well neither do I!”

He slung an arm around your shoulder and let out a deep breath, shedding the anger that had previously laced his voice. “I know. Shockingly enough you both want the same thing and are afraid of the same thing. But one of you has to be brave enough to take the risk.”

Tristan tossed back the rest of his drink at that, when both you and Jeff looked over to him with amusement, he shrugged. “I need to be drunker if we’re going to keep talking about all of this deep shit.”

**

CeCe turning seven made you feel ancient. So ancient, in fact, that you woke up Thursday morning with a splitting headache and a sore back. The alcohol from Jeff’s birthday probably took a few days to work itself out of your body, so you spent the first half of the week drinking your bodyweight in water and popping advil.

You weren't sure what you’d done to deserve it, but CeCe’s birthday request was simple: bring a friend to a trampoline park, with Harry, no mom.

At first you were sad. She didn’t want to spend time with you? Was Maeve’s pre-pubescent attitude rubbing off on her at the ripe age of seven?

But then, when she screamed at her sister the night before because she was wearing purple which meant Maeve couldn’t wear purple, you were glad to have the night to yourself and even more glad to dump their bickering on Harry. If he was so keen on being in their lives, he’d get all of it: the bickering, the yelling, the occasional shoving and hair pulling.

He was timid again when he arrived to pick them up, like he didn’t know how to interact with someone with whom he’d once shared a bed. Booster seats strapped in, snacks packed in a bag you prepared for him, money, water bottles, a change of socks in case someone’s got dirty. Pizza, CeCe had been begging, and soda, and then ice cream on the way home.

He nodded when you ran through the plan again, a small smirk on his face that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’ve got it.”

“What are you smiling for?”

“Well, I mean, I know what I’m doing, Y/N--s’not the first time.”

“I know, but she’s seven now and her friend still needs to be home by 9pm and make sure Maeve doesn’t have too much soda or else she’ll be texting on her stupid phone all night.”

“I thought you were taking it from her at bedtime?”

You sighed, about to reply before he cut himself off and backtracked.

“Sorry--not my place, I don’t--anyway. Okay,” he looked down at the four girls. Maeve and Hayley, CeCe and Lily. How on earth he felt comfortable bringing the four of them in public was unknown--probably would be until the day you died--but you practiced going with the flow and let out another exhale.

You were trying to play it cool in more ways than one. Cool mom, not anxious about sending her children off with a famous celebrity who had somehow doubled as the world’s best babysitter or stand-in father-figure. And then casual, nonchalant previous hook-up who didn’t have any feelings about interfacing with Harry despite all that had occurred between you. You’d practiced in your mirror a few times before she showed up, but nothing prepared you for the climbing heartbeat when he rested a hand on CeCe’s head lovingly.

“Okay, Maeve, call me if you need anything. Hayley--your mom already texted me so I’ll keep her updated if you guys are going to be late, but text her when you get to the trampoline park, okay?”

Hayley nodded and Maeve rolled her eyes. CeCe brushed hair out of her face. “Are we good? I have jumping to do.”

Harry stifled a laugh and looked back to you. “We’re good. I’ll text you, enjoy your night.”

They piled in and buckled before you could even shut the garage door and head inside. You poured some wine and stared out into the backyard for a moment, wondering how on earth you’d settled in this house and into a life you almost didn’t recognize. Just a year ago you were finalizing your divorce, trying to figure out where you’d end up, watching your father decline in health as Maeve started wearing a training bra.

Now they were choosing Harry over you and suddenly your family felt more incomplete than it ever had, simply because he moved out.

But instead of sulking in regret, you put on a movie and ordered your own take out. At only 7pm you were already struggling to keep your eyes open, but a vibrating from the end table pulled you back to the movie you were already bored of.

You grabbed your phone and saw it was Harry--a knot in your stomach twisted and tugged when you answered.

“Hi,”

“Hi, uh, everything’s fine, we’re okay, but Maeve maybe broke her arm? I don’t know--Lily’s mom is on her way to come get her and Hayley, so that’s good, but Maeve needs to go to the emergency room.”

“What the fuck happened, Harry, how did she hurt herself?”

You were already up and on your feet, flip flops on and keys in hand when you tugged a sweatshirt over your head but kept spouting off questions.

“Were you not watching them? Is she okay? What hospital?”

“She landed on it wrong, it might just be a sprain or something! Just come and I’ll tell you everything, okay? She’s alright, the EMTs already wrapped her up--”

“She’s going in an ambulance?!”

You were in the car now, heart beating rapidly when your mouth felt dry and the ignition turned on.

“I’ll meet you at the Cedars Sinai in Tarzana, okay? Breathe, Y/N,”

You hung up without another word, blew a red light on the way there and wondered if this was your punishment for being the worst mom ever. Had all of your bad decisions somehow come back to bite you in the ass, or break Maeve’s arm?

Was letting Harry take them to a crowded trampoline park a mistake? Did he get recognized and mobbed and Maeve was a casualty? The questions flew through your head as you flew down the freeway, but you couldn’t shake one particular thought: thank God Harry was calm.

If you were going to be this elevated and out of breath before you even found them in the hospital, someone needed to keep his cool and be able to remember the doctor’s orders.

You pushed into the emergency department of the hospital he’d directed you to in under 13 minutes. A sticker on your chest and a nurse who brought you down a hall to a room with a curtain pulled shut. When she opened it, Maeve was in the bed and CeCe was sat in a chair beside her, Harry paced back and forth.

His eyes were wide when he turned to see you, but you didn’t acknowledge him.

“Sweetie? Hi, what happened, are you okay?”

Harry moved closer to you, but gave you enough space to inspect your daughter.

“I’m fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes when you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“I’m fine, too,” CeCe said in the corner with an attitude. “It’s still my birthday, you know.”

“How could we forget?” Harry offered her a smile.

“What happened?” You turned around and asked this with force.

“What do you mean what happened? I told you on the phone, she was jumping and messing around and she just landed on it wrong. It was an accident.”

“I’m fine, mom--it hurts but I’m fine, you don’t have to make this a big thing,” Maeve argued again from behind you. You held out a finger to silence her, this wasn’t the moment for her to get involved.

“Were you watching her closely enough, Harry? How many kids were around? You can’t just let her go off and mess around at a place like that, there are so many limbs flailing about, it’s dangerous.”

“There wasn’t anyone else in there,” Harry shrugged.

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, almost like he didn’t want to admit it. “I rented it out--I didn’t want anyone else there to, you know, steal the spotlight in case they knew who I was.”

You paused, looked from him to Maeve to CeCe and back. “You rented out a trampoline park for a 7-year-old’s birthday party?”

“Well, she’s not just any 7-year-old,” Harry smiled a little.

“No I’m not!” CeCe sang with excitement.

You gave him a smack across the arm. “Harry!”

“Oh my god, can you relax?” Maeve groaned.

You turned around to tell her to shut it--with a smile, of course--but the doctor pushed her way through a curtain and smiled.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Patel, you’re the mom?”

“Yes,” you nodded, crossed your arms and watched as she pushed x-rays up onto a screen.

“Good news is that it’s not broken all the way through, but there’s a fracture. We’ll do a cast for four weeks and do another x-ray then, see how it looks.”

“Okay,” you said, taking it all in. “But she’s alright? She’ll heal okay?”

“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Patel smiled. “The fracture is right here,” she pointed to the screen when she shoved the x-ray up in front of the light. “Four weeks and I’m sure she’ll heal perfectly. She needs to rest, for sure. Ice it tonight, there’s a pediatric orthopedist I recommend for the cast, we can get you an appointment tomorrow. Advil to handle pain over the next week or so but she should feel much better in a few days.”

“I told you,” Maeve snarled.

CeCe was happy sucking on a lollipop, a sticker on her shirt said Birthday Girl in sparkly pink lettering and you didn’t know if it was from the trampoline park or a friendly person in the Cedars Sinai emergency department.

Harry also had his arms crossed over his chest. Dr. Patel smiled and reported that a nurse would be in to give you discharge paperwork and verify an appointment time for Maeve’s cast. When you turned around to see her again, Maeve said: “don’t be mad at Harry.”

“Of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“Of course what?” Maeve asked.

“Of course you say don’t be mad at Harry--”

“Why would you be mad at me?”

“I don’t know! Cause she broke her arm on your watch,” you said, aware of how your emotions were getting the best of you. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to do in front of the girls, maybe this was just another reason why you were winning the award for worst mom of the year.

“Fractured,” Maeve corrected.

“It’s not my fault,” Harry said quickly.

“Well you were the adult there,” you shot back.

“Don’t fight on my birthday!” CeCe whined.

“Typical parents,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

“He’s not your father,” you spit it out without thinking, words that caught everyone off guard and soon hovered in the air overhead when the room fell silent.

Maeve made a face, Harry let his gaze fall to the ground, his lips pursed into a thin line when he looked back up and changed the subject.

“CeCe, I heard there’s ice cream downstairs in the cafeteria if you want some?”

She perked right up at that, stood from her chair and then took his hand to head out of the room and down the hall.

Once it was just you and Maeve, she looked at you and waited.

“What?”

“You’re not going to yell at me?”

“I don’t exactly have it in me right now,” you admitted.

“I know Harry’s not my dad, just to be clear.”

You sighed, about to reply when she cut you off.

“But it feels like that sometimes. I mean, dad’s never around and Harry’s been around so much and you two--”

“I know,” you nodded. “I get it. Believe me.”

It was confusing, and if it was confusing for you, you could only imagine how confusing it was for them. Harry had become a fixture in their lives and someone they could count on, even more than they could count on their own father. And in Maeve’s defense, Harry did act like a parent in a lot of ways. Carpools, cooking, chasing them around the yard--you couldn’t be mad at Maeve for noticing the ways Harry undeniably fit into your family. She wasn’t the enemy, even when she called you on your feelings for him or pointed out the obvious chemistry. She was just observant and hopeful and innocently hoping that Harry would stick around forever. You could relate.

So it wasn’t worth getting worked up--the nurse came in and went over the aftercare plan and Maeve was in better spirits when Harry and CeCe returned with a dish of soft serve with her name on it. She complained in the parking lot that she wanted to ride in Harry’s car and when they both chose to ride with him, he shrugged innocently but promised he’d meet you at home.

He was only a few minutes behind you, let himself in the side door with both of them trailing him when you put the lid on your take out and slid it into the fridge.

“Sorry for interrupting your alone time,” he said with a nod at the half-empty bottle of wine on the island.

“Mommy, do I get another birthday since Maeve ruined mine?”

“I didn’t ruin yours,” Maeve gave her a light shove with her hip. “You got to stay up way past your bedtime, see? It’s already almost 11pm.”

“Which means both of you need to get up there and brush your teeth,” you informed them. “Say goodnight to Harry.”

CeCe filed over first, wrapped her arms around his legs and squeezed. “‘Night Harry thank you for ice cream and jumping!”

“You’re welcome, lovie,” he said, a hand on her head to smooth down her hair.

“Thanks for letting me ride in the ambulance by myself, mom never would have let me,” Maeve said when she wrapped her good arm around him.

“You went alone?” You stopped wiping the counter and looked up at them, somehow that detail got lost in the shuffle and just now clicked.

“And she’s fine and she’s home now, so,” Harry bit back a laugh when you exhaled with force.

“Okay, I can help you brush up, Maeve--I’ll be up in a second.”

CeCe took off at that, her feet disappeared up the stairs when Maeve looked at you, then Harry, then back at you. “I can do it, or CeCe can help. I’m fine, if you want to--I don’t know. Goodnight!”

Was she trying to give you two a minute alone? You made a face when she climbed the stairs but then found Harry smiling at you.

‘“What?”

“She’s trying to give us a minute alone,” he nodded, somehow aware of the thoughts in your head. You felt your cheeks flush at the immaturity of the moment, somehow your twelve-year-old was more in tune with the awkwardness in the kitchen than you were.

You stifled a laugh and stood frozen in place, unsure of what to say or how to behave. A part of you wanted to admit everything: the regret, the remorse, the way you wished he was down the hall or in the other room or simply a phone call away.

Blurting all of that out in your kitchen felt stupid and unpolished, so you put your hands on your hips and shifted your weight from one foot to another. Harry looked at the clock on the wall.

“Do you, uh, want a glass of wine?”

Maybe it was a stupid offer--it was late, the girls had to go to sleep--but something in you wanted to tug him close and ask him to never leave.

He hesitated for a moment, scanned your face, but then nodded. “Sure.”

He watched you reach for glasses and moved to sit at the island. When you corked the bottle and poured, he cleared his throat.

“I, uh, stand by the fact that Maeve getting hurt wasn’t my fault--” he smirked a little, “but, I’m sorry and I’m glad she’s okay.”

“Me too,” you agreed, pushing a glass towards him. “I guess that’s why they make you sign a waiver.”

“I know you think it’s dumb that I rented the whole place out, but I think it was a smart move, that way Maeve doesn’t have to be all embarrassed about being taken out on a stretcher.”

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed, the image of your embarrassed pre-teen brought a selfish smile to your face. He held his glass up and waited for you to clink yours against it. “To Maeve’s speedy healing and to CeCe’s seventh birthday.”

You sighed, “I can’t believe she’s seven. Makes me feel ancient.”

“You’re not ancient.”

“I have a twelve-year-old and a seven-year-old. I think that makes me ancient.”

He rolled his eyes at your theatrics. “How do you think people with twenty-year-olds feel?”

“Even worse,” you grimaced.

He smiled up at you when you set your glass back down. “Sorry we didn’t really get to talk at Jeff’s birthday--I know I was busy and distracted.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew about CeCe’s recital.”

“It’s on my calendar.” An awkward beat. “Is Luke going to be there?”

“Supposedly, he should be.”

Harry nodded, took a loud sip and looked around the room.

“How’s the house coming?”

“Good, yeah--been moving a lot of stuff in. Haven’t stayed over yet, but probably next week. It’ll be weird to live alone, though, haven’t done it in a while.”

“The girls really miss you,” you nodded, a playful eye roll to gauge his reaction. “I haven’t heard the end of it.”

“They do?”

Hope in his eyes when you nodded.

“Of course they do,” you laughed like it should have been obvious, like he should have known about their constant begging to see him or their recounting of happy memories. Remember when Harry said, remember when we, I miss being able to…

“I miss them, too.” Quiet for a moment when he looked at the wine in his glass. He looked up slowly, met your gaze before he shrugged like the words were casual or unimportant. “I miss you.”

When you didn’t say anything he stood up, a step closer to you while you tried to gather your thoughts, your words, offer up anything other than a blank stare brought on by butterflies and beating hearts.

“Mommy, are you coming?” CeCe was at the top of the stairs, her face barely visible around the corner and through her messy hair. “Maeve can’t brush my hair.”

“Coming,” you nodded, eyes on his for a second when he let out an exhale, you lowered your voice to speak only to him. “Sorry.”

He nodded, chest deflated when he took a step back. “S’probably for the best, right?”

Your lips parted to speak, but he turned on his feet and grabbed for his keys on the counter.

“CeCe--I’ll see you next week at the recital, okay? Keep practicing those pirouettes!” He made a funny face at her, a toothy grin when she giggled and then he waved over his shoulder. A half-empty wine glass on the counter was soon the other reminder of his presence when you climbed the stairs.

**

Getting CeCe dressed and ready to go was always a nightmare. Getting Maeve dressed in something that would compliment her cast, not clash with it, was a new dilemma that had you praying the next three weeks would fly by.

With the school year coming to a close and both of your children eager for summer to hit with full force, they were in better spirits despite the clothing dilemma that had plagued your house before CeCe’s recital.

She was three minutes late but still let you kiss her on the head when you pushed her off to join the other leotard-clad kiddos backstage. You found your seats with the Azoffs and Tristan, wondered if Luke or Harry would actually show up like they’d promised.

“‘Scuse me, sorry, m’just heading right there,” you heard his voice before you saw him, felt your shoulders rise up to your ears when you felt Tristan shift beside you to make room for him. He was cutting it close and by the look on his face when your eyes met his, he knew it.

“Hi,” he said it quietly, almost uncertain if you’d reply or give a greeting at all. You offered a tiny smile, Tristan patted him on the thigh once he took his seat.

“Harry!” Maeve grinned when she leaned down and saw him. “Mom, can me and Tristan switch so I can sit next to Harry?”

You were caught off guard by her question, fumbled with the program in hand when Tristan answered for you.

“Of course,” he said, stood and side stepped your daughter as she climbed over your lap.

Maeve threw her arms around Harry when she was close enough. “I have so much to catch you up on with Hayley!”

He smiled at that, hugged her back and then brushed hair out of her face when she sat. “We’re due for a guitar lesson, we can still work on strumming even with the cast on,” he told her. “Maybe we can catch up then.”

He glanced in your direction, another awkward smile when you felt the let down wash over you again.

You tried--you had made so much effort to shift your definition of family to let him fit in it. But sometimes people were too different and goals were too different and sometimes family doesn’t mean happily ever after, just like you always knew.

And you’d tried to tell him, piece together words to explain how you felt and what you wanted, but things always got in the way. Maybe the universe was trying to save you more embarrassment or maybe that was just an excuse you landed on to save yourself any more sleepless nights.

“He smells so good, by the way,” Tristan whispered into your ear, gaining an eye roll from you when the curtain opened. The audience erupted in applause, the sounds of happy parents filled the auditorium when a herd of first graders fell into place in pink tutus.

“There she is!” Maeve pointed up at the stage, a grin on her face so wide you could count her teeth.

CeCe’s face lit up when she found you all in the crowd, but when her eyes settled on Harry, she couldn’t hide her excitement. She waved and jumped up and down a little, gaining composure only when the music started to play.

She twirled around with grace, much more than you’d seen her carry in the backyard during squishball or the knock down, drag out fights she’d been known to have with her sister. She made it through the dance numbers with ease, and you didn’t even realize you were nervous for her until Tristan pried his leg free from your grasp: you’re hurting me.

There were only a few minutes of awkwardness when the show ended. Maeve told Harry about a science project and he shifted on his feet, stealing glances in your direction every few seconds. He excused himself to the restroom only seconds before CeCe burst through the door with a grin on her face, glitter on her cheeks and a ribbon in her hair.

“Did you see me mommy?!”

“I did see you!” You knelt down to squeeze her tight. “You were graceful and poised and you looked absolutely stunning! We got you flowers,” you motioned to the roses in Tristan’s arms, he smiled when he handed them over to her. They were almost as tall as she was but she wrapped both arms around the bouquet.

“You did really good,” Maeve admitted. “And the tutu looks great.”

She was distracted now, her eyes found Harry in the crowd as he walked back from the bathroom, both hands in his pockets until he heard her call his name. “Harry!”

“Hi lovie,” he knelt down and opened his arms. “You did so well! Did you have fun?”

“So much fun!” She giggled. “I didn’t know if you’d come!”

“Of course I came,” he said, his smile faltering a little when he looked up at you. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

You bit your tongue, now wasn’t the time to break your own rule: no shit talking in front of the girls. Sure, it was a rule you first adopted post-Luke, but now it almost felt like talking badly about Harry would hurt them more to hear than if you bad-mouthed their own father.

Maeve looked excitedly in your direction. “Mom, can Harry come to dinner tonight with everyone?”

He stood up now, hand on top of CeCe’s hair when he waited for an answer from you.

You were torn, bit at your lip for a second before you realized you needed to spit out some kind of answer. Your heart wanted him there and with you always, an addition to your family that you never knew you needed or wanted until he was literally under your roof. But your head was nervous, certain that the only thing that would come from this was more heartbreak and more confusion--and that was something that nobody needed.

“Yeah, sure--of course.”

CeCe clapped and jumped up and down again, looking up at her sister. “We can play squishball! I’ll race you to the car!”

They took off, climbed into the backseat and laughed the whole way home when you tried to prevent the headache that you could feel coming on. Jeff beat you back, Shelli and Irv too--soon the grill was on and Jeff wore an apron with handprints from three Christmases ago. Best Uncle Ever.

A few of CeCe’s friends and their parents tagged along, and soon you were handing out glasses of wine to other moms and wishing it didn’t hurt to see him help Maeve put her hair up in a pony-tail.

You kept yourself busy as host, do you need another drink, thanks for coming, we love the neighborhood. Anything to keep you from staring at him from across the backyard wondering what on earth he meant when he said s’probably for the best.

But he was calm, talked with Jeff and Irv and stood by the grill to help pass around plates when dinner was ready. He helped CeCe cut her burger in half and laughed when Maeve pulled out the waterproof wrap she’d convinced you to buy on Amazon so she could still go swimming.

He didn’t speak to you, though, quick glances your way when you’d reply to someone else--talking up and down and all around each other as if direct acknowledgement might cause the house to catch fire.

It was unavoidable, though, when he wandered towards the front of the house with his head buried in his phone, unaware that he’d caught you in a private moment.

The beep of Luke’s voicemail had your blood boiling, and you’d probably leave a string of threats had Harry not looked up and realized, finally, it was just the two of you in the driveway.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, eyes glancing around to confirm that no one else was nearby.

“No, it’s fine.” You pulled the phone away from your face and hung up. “I was just trying to get a hold of Luke. He said he’d come but then he didn’t show up. Now he’s not answering my calls, so--”

“Seems like nothing’s changed,” he nodded, disappointment in his voice when he shoved a hand in his pocket.

You let out an awkward laugh both at Harry’s sentiment and presence. “Yeah, well, I don’t know if we can ever really expect it to, right?”

“Right.”

The music from the backyard wafted over the roof, a car drove by outside the gate and he looked at you for a second before forcing out more small talk.

“How’s work been?”

“Good,” you nodded, an uncomfortable burn in your chest when you realized he now fell in the category of people who don’t know. He didn’t know how your meetings went, he didn’t know what you wanted for dinner. He didn’t know what Maeve was learning in math and he didn’t know about CeCe’s loose tooth.

“How’re things with you?”

“Good--my house is done, and I’m pretty much all moved in, so that’s nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of quiet, you know. No yelling down the hall or noise from the backyard.”

You forced a laugh, “must be nice.”

“It’s miserable, actually.”

You looked up at that, caught off guard by the emotion and seriousness in his voice. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” he laughed like you were crazy, kept himself in check but then shrugged. “I just--I don’t know. I miss being here with you three.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been kind of shitty here without you, too.”

He took a step closer to you at that, eyebrows knit together on his forehead like he’d been waiting to ask: “Why did you make me leave?”

You searched for an answer, let out a few squeaks when he seemed to hang on every word. “Because I didn’t know what was happening, everything moved so quickly between us and--”

“You were scared?”

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

He let out a sigh. “I know what happened between us was weird and unexpected, but that doesn’t make it wrong.”

“I know,” you nodded, honesty pouring out of you like floodgates had been opened. “I think I just pulled back when I panicked and--I don’t know. I tried to avoid what ended up happening.”

The corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk, another step closer. “Which was?”

“You leaving and all of us being heartbroken.”

He smirked, parted his lips to speak but you cut him off. “Instead of waiting for it to possibly happen, I became the queen of self-fulfilling prophecies.”

As if on cue, CeCe burst through the front door as she searched for you. When she looked up to see both of you in the driveway, she smiled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you rolled your eyes and laughed, surprised again by her wit and charm.

“CeCe,” Harry kneeled down, held out a hand to usher her over. “Do you remember what you told me about your art project when we went for pizza, that night a few weeks ago when you got a blue gumball from the machine near the bathroom?”

“Hmm,” she thought on it for a second. “The one with Mrs. Platsky?”

“Yeah--that one.”

“What about it?” She asked.

“Can you tell mommy what you drew?”

“Well, first she asked to draw what we thought of when we thought of ‘home’ a while ago, like a few weeks ago, I think. But then the next week she helped us make family trees and I drew mine with purple leaves,” she smiled excitedly and giggled when Harry nodded.

“Do you have that somewhere?”

“Yeah, in my backpack probably!”

“Do you want to get it so we can show mom?”

This made her nervous, she looked down to her feet, still in ballet slippers. “Well, yeah, but mom said we had to stop acting like we were a family.”

He looked down at her and then up at you, a small smile on his face when she shrugged one shoulder. “I was never acting, for the record.”

You held back a laugh, rolled your eyes at his smooth remark.

“Okay, I’ll go get it,” CeCe nodded, apparently that was enough for her. She ran off, back into the house to search for whatever it was, and for some reason, tears filled your eyes when he stood back up and looked at you.

“I don’t know what your definition of family is, but I can tell you mine.”

You tried to wipe at your eyes to hide any evidence of emotion, but he caught your hands and held them in his.

“I think of people I love, people I feel like I can be myself with. I think about this house, and your daughters, and I think about you. I think about the stupid fights that they have and I think about how happy I would be if I got to see them go off to prom or to college or on their first date--but that one makes me really nervous, actually.”

You laughed at that, the crack of a smile on your face brought one to his.

“I also didn’t expect this to turn out the way it did, but I don’t care if you’re thirty-two and I don’t care if you have children, because I love them, too. And I would rather be here in this house with a nontraditional definition of family than on my own in Malibu.”

You nodded, let him wrap his arms around you when you felt your forehead hit his shoulder. And because there was no privacy in this house or in this family, Maeve also burst through the door and smiled wide.

“Are you guys hugging?!”

“Does it look like we’re hugging?” Harry teased, opening an arm so Maeve could squeeze her way in.

She wrapped her arms around you, “I’ve been waiting for you guys to figure it out.”

“I found it, I found it!” CeCe came running out again, by now Jeff had wandered out too, Irv and Shelli looked on while Zoey came out to the driveway with Benny on her hip to see the commotion.

Harry knelt down again, helped CeCe unroll a piece of construction paper that had, as promised, purple leaves.

“Here’s you, mom, you’re up here near Grandpa,” she smiled. “Then daddy’s over here, and Harry’s here, then Maeve is next to me. Then Auntie Shelli and Uncle Irv are here with Uncle Jeff--and then Benny’s here, I drew a little baby, see?”

“I do see,” you placed a hand on top of her head, smiled through tears as she pointed around to all of the people who loved you, all of the people who you could be yourself with, all of the people standing around watching as CeCe proudly displayed her family tree.

“Mom,” Maeve tugged at your arm again. “I don’t mean to put you on the spot with everyone here, but I think now would be a good time to tell Harry you like him.”

Shelli let out a laugh, wrapped an arm around Irv when Tristan shouted: “I agree, Y/N, I think now’s a good time.”

You looked around at all of them, half embarrassed, but settled and content and actually happy. Then your eyes settled on Harry, a coy smirk as he looked at you expectantly.

“Do I really have to say it?”

“Mmm,” he nodded, “I think you do.”

“Fine,” you sighed, motioning a hand around the driveway. “With everyone as my witness, I think you’re pretty cool.”

Maeve cleared her throat, “and you love him.”

You tried to fight a smile, looked at Harry when he grinned down at Maeve. “You can tell your mom I love her, too.”

CeCe had crawled her way up to Jeff’s shoulders now, a big smile on her face. “Oh just kiss already!” she giggled.

Harry’s eyes went wide in her direction, “how did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I’m just smart,” she shrugged. “I know lots of things.”

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AN: FRIENDS! Thank you for always joining me on the journey I create. All of the comments and messages and reblogs mean the world to me and I feel so lucky that people want to read the random shit I write and make up in my head. I've added a playlist for this chapter you can find here in case you want to really feel the feels during this one. Stay tuned for more stories!!!!

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Blurb night- 1.8k words

(Request: Maybe more catholic school H but there bestfriend and there both v innocent and its their first time trying _______ (whatever you want) just a thought? (For the possible blurb night.)

“Did you hear what Lily was saying about Connor?”

y/n looked up when she heard Harry’s voice, the two of them in his room trying to finish their shared art project. They had to do a joint painting of the schools logo for the competition being held to pick a new art piece for the Catholic school. Y/n was currently trying to fix her minor mishap of mixing the purple too dark on the lower corner of the canvas.

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1/ ok long anon :) back longer than ever ! because was there one time Harry was seen at like a western bar? or a bar that had a mechanical bull and he rode it ?? Then left with a girl? did that actually happen am I making that up? Anyways Harry’s in the middle of his American tour and has a 3 day break before his next show on Friday. And let’s pretend he’s somewhere around Nashville, or down further south near Dallas or Houston, or maybe west near Phoenix, or could be up in Boston, anyways point is, it’s Tuesday night and Harry just wants to find a place to have a beer at an actual bar with his band and some of the crew, and hopefully not be center of attention for a moment. And the bar he manages to make his way into isn’t packed whatsoever, but still has a nice crowd of what seems to be older locals, there for open mic night/karaoke. He and the band manage to make their way in to go sit at a booth tucked away and if any of the patrons do spare a look at him, it’s not really at him, but more so at his funky multicolored cardigan. And Harry’s having a great time just being able to be out drinking and having a good time with his friends, just laughing over stories told, pausing to listen to whoever is up at the mic if they catch his ear. Harry suggests another round of drinks, and he walks up to where you’re behind bar in a pair of Levi’s shorts, head turned away as you’re filling up a glass from the tap, and as if you could sense someone there behind you, you’re already saying “I’ll be with you in a second” without even turning around. And when you hear a “take your time” in an accent that’s definitely not from one of your usual crowd, you quickly look over your shoulder and just as quickly turn back to the tap because holy shit…it’s actually Harry Styles at this bar of all places. And as you turn to take the drink you poured to the patron at the corner of the bar, Harry gets an actual look at you and thinks to himself oh wow…she’s pretty. Really, really pretty even in this low lighting. And as you slide your way back over to him, you ask “what can I get you?” in the most calm cool collected way you can manage. And maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s because he’s naturally a menace, but Harry says “your name” with a slight grin. And you won’t lie, hearing that from Harry Styles did make your heart start pumping faster, and a smirk starts to make its way to your mouth that Harry catches, but is shaken away as you roll your eyes because men really are the same no matter who they are and you respond “it’s y/n. Now seriously, what can I get you? They don’t look it, but this crowd can get rowdy if they don’t get their drinks in time even if I tell them that it was a young big shot rock star decided to hold up the line” And there it is. The little weight that settled on your shoulders for a second lifted because you know that he knows and he knows that you know who he is. But you also can’t help but notice the little bit of hurt that crossed Harry’s face when you responded. And Harry, he’s a little taken back by your sharp response, mouth dropped, but not so much shocked that you know who he is (he’s not conceited just knows how relevant/big he is). And he doesn’t know what it is whether it’s the fact that you’re so pretty, or the fact you tried to play it cool (the shocked-knowing glance you made at him when you thought he didn’t notice turns out was noticed) the alcohol, or the slight bite in your response, but he turns to look back at the booth with his friends and notices that they’re so deep into conversations and laughs and (some even dancing with some of the older patrons) honestly, haven’t noticed that Harry’s been gone for a moment. He looks back to you and says “Y/N” (that rolls nice off his lips), “I’m sorry, I’ll have one of whatever is on tap.” And you nod as you turn to pour his drink while Harry decides to settle in and take a seat at the bar. And when you place his drink on the table, he goes “Seriously, I’m sorry if I offended you or made you uncomfortable in anyway.”

2/ And you notice how genuine he sounds right now, and you were neither offended or uncomfortable, just more shocked that Harry Styles is asking for your name. You tell him “it’s fine, really, just wasn’t expecting /that/ from you. Anyways, what managed to bring you all the way over here?” And that’s how you two started talking about everything really even as you excused yourself to fill orders, the conversation was easily jumped back into. Harry told you of how he’s been on tour and just needed to feel like a person and you told him about yourself. How you took up bartending because you’re starting grad school in the fall and little stories about the old timey crowd that like to inhabit this place. Like how behind the dingy curtain on the little stage, there’s actually a mechanical bull that is hardly ever used now because too many drunk old people nearly breaking a hip trying to live out their Wild Wild West fantasy. And you both don’t really notice, but as the conversation has gone on, he’s leaned more across the bar as you’ve leaned closer to him as well. Harry’s noticing how your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the mole on your forearm as you stretch to hand people their drinks. And your beautiful doesn’t go missed by the kind elderly guests who he can hear make comments on how “you get prettier every time I see you y/n” And you’re really smart. When you told him what you’re going to grad school for, and what you’re researching, Harry was reminded how he stopped going to school at 16. And you’re noticing how easy he is to talk to. Surprisingly easy and despite being a huge celebrity, he’s really down to earth, still cocky but charming. He’s also so handsome, strikingly so, especially this close. Anyways, the night has gone on, more of the crowd turning in for the night, and you’re now around the bar, sitting on the stool next to Harry, knees occasionally knocking against each other, still talking. At some point you’re both broken out of whatever trance you’re both under by each other by one of Harry’s friends coming over to tell him that they’re all leaving and you think sadly to yourself that this weird, unexpected, encounter has come to an end. But when you see that Harry hasn’t gotten up from his stool, and he tell them that’s going to stay back and he’ll get a ride back later, something lights up in your belly. As they all wave back at him you send a wave off as well and Harry turns back to you and says “Is that okay with you? I’m honestly having a really great time talking with you.” And you swear steam could come out of your ears and your face is probably beet red right now as a high pitch “no, that’s fine, I’m really having a great time too. But I am going to have to start closing up now, so if you do want to leave…” and Harry is all “oh….well is it okay if I stay as you close up, give you some extra company? I promise I’ll stay out of your way, or I could help, you know?” And he adds with a smile, “Whatever I can do that’ll make you want me to stay, lovely” And that last part makes you smitten really as you nod okay to him. So the bar is now closed, and you’ve been going through your usual closing routine (it’s just you that night since it was Tuesday) and you just can’t believe Harry Styles is here helping you sweep and flip chairs onto tables (“I can help some. I used to be a baker you know?”) And you’ve plugged your phone into the speaker to play your Spotify as you clean and when you hear the opening of Canyon Moon, a shock runs up your spine as you pause mid tabletop wipe down and your eyes move to meet Harry who has looked up mid sweep. And you’re blushing again and stammering an apology of “I am so sorry let me change it” as you rush to your phone to change it as Harry who has gone back to sweeping says “no I like this one” with a grin and looks back to you. And you’re a little relieved but still embarrassed biting your lip as you tell him “yeah i do too” with a returned grin.

3/ And you both go back to cleaning and talking, you’ve both ended up in one of the booths, Your feet brushing against each other under the table as you finish up looking over inventory sheets between asking Harry about his tattoos (his sleeves rolled up,holding his arm out on the table as you admire and you didn’t miss the flex of his hand when you brushed against the one of the holy Bible asking if the placement of the bookmark means anything particular). And at some point Harry looks towards the stage at one point and asks “is there really a bull behind there?” And you told him “yeah and that bull has a name, and it’s Stella by the way named after an actual cow the owner had on a farm as a kid” and now you’re pulling the curtain to reveal, the very intimidating mechanical bull that takes up most of the tiny stage. And Harry’s all “can I ride it?” And you’re all “are you sure? I mean it hasn’t been used in awhile besides my coworkers when we’re fucking around after closing sometimes.” And Harry’s like “yeah it looks like fun.” And that’s how he ended up, on top of the bull, shoes discarded and socked feet, holding on with one hand as the bull bucked and you laughed at first because of how ridiculous he looked, and he’s laughing along with you having the time of his life too, but oh…the way he’s practically grinding against the seat is making you have some really impure thoughts. And you shake your head a little as he’s finally lost his bearings and has fallen off onto the protective padding below laughing his head off. And jokingly you say “23 seconds. And here id thought you’d last longer.”

4/ And Harry catches your shot at his ego as he gains his composure, rising up to where you are at the controls to say “heyyy now. Bet you can’t do better.” And you’re a little insulted at his assumption because you mentioned earlier to him that you and the rest of the workers here will occasionally ride the bull after work for fun and you’d managed stay on the longest several times thanks to your highly strategized technique you’ve developed, as you scoff “oh please I know how to ride” and your eyes widen because you didn’t mean for your response to be that saucy, but Harry is already looking at you with that smirk and says “well, show me how you ride then” and you swallow and agree and after giving harry a rundown on the easy to use controls, you’re perched on the bull. With the bull facing the away, your starting with your back towards Harry, and he can’t help but to notice your ass in your shorts again as it’s slightly arched on the bull with your hand in the air. Once he actually starts up the bull, he realizes how right you were about knowing how to ride. And he didn’t think this was possible but you’ve managed to make this whole activity seem graceful? In the way that you’re going with the motions of the bull. Harry also can’t help but notice how sexy you look up on it too, he can’t help but let his himself imagine you riding him like how you are on the bull right now. You rocking rhythmically back and forth on the saddle. Harry’s glad that he’s behind the controls right now as he reaches to his pants to discreetly adjust himself because he’s getting hard. And your gleeful laughter snaps him out of his dirty thoughts as you make eye contact with him, and it’s a split second but oh did you just see him? adjust himself? Oh… and it breaks you from your concentration as you’re flung from the bull a little harsher than expected onto the padding below. And Harry has exclaimed your name as he has stepped his way into the padding of the bull pen rushing to you as you’re rolled onto your side catching your breath laughing a little because this is, just so crazy, crazy, crazy, crazy that Harry Styles has not only showed up to your bar, but he /likes/ talking to you, he called you lovely and now, he’s hard over you. And Harry is leaned over you, rolling you onto your back, concern on his face, and asking “are you okay?” And you’re still trying to catch your breath as breathless laughs escape you as you tell him “yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

5/ And now you’re close, really close and really looking at each other as Harry goes to sweep some of your hair off your face. And you reach your hand up to softly brush against the bare skin of his tattooless arm. And you’re looking at Harry’s lips as he’s paused his ministrations in your hair looking down at you and smirks “you were right about knowing how to ride.” And a smile spreads across your face, and your eyes are doing that crinkled thing that Harry likes as you reply “oh, you think?” and your hand moves to tug on his collar, to bring him down to your face as you kiss him.

Anndddddd that’s all I’ve got lol.

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BESTIE....... BESTIE OH MY GOD HELLO??? IM SPEECHLESS IM... OMFG HIM BEING A LITTLE NERVOUS? YOU BOTH BEING SO EXCITED TO HANG OUT AFTER HOURS, AND THE REALIZATION THAT LIKE... OH FUCK HE’S ACTUALLY KIND OF INTO YOU... OH MY GOD