Harry Styles Shorts and One Shots

One Shot: Just Friends?

Strictly fluff
Word Count: 4,785
TW: Car Accident, Death, Hospital

Y/N

"Please, you're ridiculous!" you giggle, finishing the rest of your beer and placing the bottle onto the glossed wooden bar.

"Absolutely not. That guy over there is definitely trying to picture what you look like naked." Harry's eyes are on him as he speaks.

"Well, he can keep on wondering. I'm not interested in him."

Harry beams at you, sipping from his glass beer bottle. "See, you're my best mate, and I still have no idea if you're interested in anybody."

Your vast grin fades very slightly, settling into a gentle smile. Truthfully, you're interested in Harry, and you have been since high school. Now that you're both adults in your 20s, you thought you'd have the courage to actually tell him that. But you don't. You can't.

The friendship you two share is way too important to risk. You would be devastated if Harry wasn't around anymore because you made things weird. You guys have been through so much in the near ten years of being friends. It would be heartbreaking to tell him your feelings, and things never be the same again.

There isn't a single part of you that feels like Harry reciprocates your romantic feelings. You always say I love you to one another, but yours has layers to it; Harry's is strictly friendly.

It takes a beat for you to reply, lost in his beautiful green eyes. "I'm not. Nobody in this god-forsaken town is even remotely interesting enough."

He raises his brows, smirking at you. "Yeah? You and your high standards."

"High standards?!" you guffaw. "Wanting someone who's younger than fifty, doesn't have children, and isn't addicted to some sort of drug isn't high standards. But that's all you can find here."

Harry laughs. "Very true."

Your cheeks feel rosy as your eyes drift down to his grin. He's so effortlessly beautiful that it kind of takes your breath away every time you're around him. The dimples in his cheeks never fail to make you smile, even when you're in the worst of moods.

There's a tap on your shoulder, forcing you to swivel around in your bar stool. It's the man that Harry is convinced wants to sleep with you.

"Hi. I'm sorry if I'm being a bit bold, but I just think you're so damn beautiful." The man smiles and his teeth are surprisingly white and quite beautiful. He has a brown mullet that's topped with a trucker's hat, matching his sleeveless plaid shirt, dirty jeans, and cowboy boots.

You feel a bit bad for what you're about to say, but you truly aren't interested in getting to know him. "Thank you," you nod. "But I have a boyfriend."

"Who, him?" the man gestures to Harry.

Harry smiles and throws his arm around your shoulders. "Sorry, mate. I got lucky, didn't I?"

The man nods, still grinning. "Sorry for disturbing ya." He walks away.

You and Harry face the bar again, your shoulders feeling electrocuted from being touched by him. This isn't the first time he's pretended to be your boyfriend to deter strange men away, but it never fails to fill your stomach with butterflies.

"He didn't seem too bad," Harry begins with his deep voice and British accent. "Why'd you turn him down?"

"I'm not interested in getting to know anybody in that way. I'm happy being single in my little bubble."