I Want To Write You A Song

Friday

The next few days, I felt Harry's eyes burning into me whenever I was in his sight. I know he still concerned about me, and I admire that, but it's not like I'll crumble to the floor the second he looks away. I'm alright, do I not look alright? (hehe iykyk)

It's now Friday, four days since our little hospital visit and we still haven't spoken. I'm not avoiding him, and I don't think he's avoiding me —though I can't speak for him— but we've both been quite busy. I've been putting dates in for the next artist to be here in two months, and Harry has been writing like crazy. Mitch told me they've gotten three done this week, which is absolutely wild to me. I mean, little freak took me ages to write.

Speaking of which, I spoke to Mitchel and Sarah about the song, and they said Harry would love to sing the song and use it on his album. They explained the whole songwriting credits process to me, and I agreed that I would give it to him for free, but they said Harry would never allow it. I think it sounds better when he sings it; he makes the song feel different. It has a calmer but still sorrowful feel to it. It's perfect.

Finally, lunch rolls around, and I grab their food delivery from the driver outside, walking back down the hall to the studio. The red light is off, but I knock quietly nonetheless, to be sure I'm not interrupting anything important. The door opens seconds after I pull my hand away, revealing the pop star himself. He smiles at me, opening the door the rest of the way and stepping aside, to allow me entry. Sarah is the corner on her phone. Mitch is sitting with a guitar on his lap and a computer on the table in front of him. There's a notebook on the table on the opposite end, with an uncapped pen lying next to it, which I can only assume belongs to Harry. I walk to an empty space on the table, setting down the bags, turning on my heel back towards the door, almost out of it before Harry catches my wrist, spinning me 'round quickly.

"Hey, could I talk to you? It's nothing bad, I promise."

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Great."

I walk down the hallway, to gain some distance between us and the door, and I hear him following suit.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I just wanted to ask how you are. Have your migraines returned? Are they bad again? Are you tired or anything? Do you nee-"

"Harry."

He stops his rambling and listens.

"I'm fine, I promise. I told you a lot, if there's a problem I'll tell you. Besides, it's my studio at the moment and if I'm too ill I can just say it's closed for the day."

"How come you didn't do that on Monday?"

"Because you were my celebrity crush for a while. Pop star, you do realize that you were wildly attractive, correct?"

"Were? You mean I'm not anymore?"

"I- uh-"

"I'm just taking the piss it's fine."

I laughed with him, wishing I could crawl into a hole and die, but apparently it's not an option.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Me too. Thank you for the other night."

"Of course. It wasn't that big of a deal. I just wanted to be sure you were alright."

"It was a big deal to me."

He just nodded, smiling at me. We stood there for a moment in comfortable silence, until he broke it.

"Are you free this weekend, by any chance? I was wondering if I could take you to dinner."

"Uhm, I'd have to double check my calendar and make sure I don't have anything, but I believe I do. "

"Great. Let me know when you're free and I'll message you the details."

"Okay, thanks."

I watched him nod and turn back towards the studio, opening the door and closing it quietly. I couldn't wipe the smile on my face the rest of the day. From when I ate lunch, to when I closed and locked the door that night, not even on my walk home, or when I climbed into bed. Perhaps not even when I was asleep.

I had sent Harry my free hours for tomorrow and Sunday, and I still waited on a reply. I knew he was asleep though, so I would probably wake up to a text about dinner. And that was the thought I fell asleep to. I was going to dinner with Harry Styles.

Sorry about how short this is. I needed a filler before this next chapter, but who's ready to see them go on a da- to dinner?