harry styles imagines

fruitcake (southpaw universe)

"Leave me alone, Jordan," she calls out monotonously without turning around to see his smug face.

"You got all dolled up, and your boyfriend isn't even paying attention to you," he says mockingly, his voice and footsteps getting closer.

"Go away."

"Are you two a thing now?" he presses like an interrogator.

Ugh! The audacity to ask such a thing! Sawyer turns to face him and brazenly replies, "That's totally none of your business."

Jordan removes his tattered trucker hat, ruffles his hair, and then puts it back on. "I think it is my business, considering you left me for him. You moved on fast."

She laughs to herself. "You're so delusional. Take the hint."

"Whatever," he says dismissively. His dilated eyes grossly run up and down her body. "You dress sluttier now."

Sawyer feels like she just got punched in the gut. It's one thing to hear him insinuate that she changed herself now that she's dating Harry, but it's another thing entirely to be degraded by someone she used to have idle respect for. An unsettling fusion of frustration and embarrassment seeps into the open wounds of her wings. Nevertheless, she puts on a brave face.

"Don't make me get Harry," she says with the most threatening tone she can muster up, "otherwise you'll be leaving here with a black eye."

"All right, all right." Jordan backs away, holding both hands high in surrender like a wimp. "Just don't get your dainty little heart broken."

"Screw you."

He doesn't reply and just gives her one last taunting look before sliding the squeaky patio door open to head back inside. Sawyer crosses her arms defensively and swallows down the burning lump in her throat. She's miserably cold, so she begins to cry. Not a sob, but a puny noise that gets stuck on the way out of her mouth and causes tears to fall past her bottom lashes. She knows wholeheartedly that she shouldn't let Jordan get under her skin. The flippant remarks he spewed are irrelevant and don't deserve to make her sensitive side come out of hiding. His words still hurt, though. Her confidence when she arrived has been completely demolished because of a stupid boy she once knew.

After ten minutes, the patio door opens again, and Sawyer hastily wipes away her tears with the back of her hand. Maybe she should just go back inside and find something to distract her; maybe join in on a lousy game of beer pong in the kitchen or find the television so she can watch Boyz II Men perform on Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve.

Looking up, she sees Harry standing in all his exuberant glory, wearing a cozy brown sweater and his trusty corduroy cap. He's also holding a plate with fruitcake on it. She doesn't have the energy nor interest to ask where he got it and why he has it.

"There's my girlfriend," he says happily, one hand casually perched on the doorframe. "You and me, let's go. They have Heart queued up for karaoke; we're doing "Alone.""

Sawyer wraps her arms around her shivering body. "I don't want to sing right now," she says, trying to mask the glumness in her voice.

"Why not?" he asks as he walks toward her. "It's our song. Or we could get crazy and do "Barracuda." Or I could ask for "Suddenly, Seymour," if that's more your speed."

"No thanks."

"C'mon," Harry begs, setting the plate on a nearby table and embracing her in his strong arms. He tilts his cap up to smack a few warm kisses on her cheek, then murmurs, "I need you for the harmonies."

"You can do all the parts." He's a decent singer, surprisingly. "I believe in you."

He huffs and starts playing with her fingers, twisting her rings and rubbing his thumb over her glittery nail polish. "Please?"