Head Bumping Is Our Thing

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"What the heck?" I mumble, as I peer out of the blinds to see what's causing all this noise outside my house. Outside my gate there are more people than I can count. Hastily, I feel around on the bedside table for my glasses. I'm totally blind without them, everything's a blur when I'm not wearing my glasses or lenses. Nef comes over and starts to litter my face with morning kisses.
"Nef, not now. There's a monsoon of people approaching our house," I say. I pet her head, and she leaves my face to lick my hands. Photographers are carrying cameras that seem bigger than themselves, Directioners are holding up posters, and wearing shirts that have One Direction plastered all over them and reporters are constantly saying something into mics. What the heck is actually happening out there? I swing my legs over the bed, and get up. "Nef, let's see what Harry's up to." My little Nef understands everything that I say, so before I'm out the door, she's running toward the hallway. I walk over to the dressing table and pass a brush through my tangled, bird-nest hair, and then tie it up. I head down the stairs to hear the blender in full action.
"What're you doing?" I yell, as I enter the kitchen. Harry's in his shirt and...boxers. "Shit!" I turn around, mentally cursing myself. "Why are you wearing boxers?" For some reason, my hand is over my eyes, even though my back is toward Harry.
"Oh, sorry." Harry says, and I can hear a smile in his voice. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early."
"This early? What's the time?" I ask him. "There's a clock on that counter." Without turning around, I point toward the counter - I hope I'm pointing to that counter - where the digital clock is lying.
"Oh, it's ten." Harry says, and I hear something clatter. The worst part is, I'm in a battle with my brain. One side of my brain wants me to turn around and just stare at Harry. The other wants me to act like a lady and not look at him. I'm even more horrible to want to follow the former part of my brain.
"Mus, you'll have to move and turn around because I need to go toward the lounge and grab my jeans."
"Why are your jeans in the lounge?" I don't even want to think as to what he was doing in there.
"I came in fully dressed, like the gentleman that I am. Then, when I figured out that you weren't awake I decided to strip down. What's the harm in that? I'm sure you know I love getting naked, right?"
"Yes, I know about that. I've heard Ed Sheeran's interviews, and I've read the books that you guys have published. Trust me, Directioners understand your love about getting naked," I say. It's a comical passion, yet I understand it. Nothing like the feeling of no clothes. I shake my head to rid myself of these thoughts.
"Mus, I'm telling you getting naked is the best feeling in the world." I roll my eyes, and march toward the lounge.
"I'll get your jeans!" I call. As I enter the lounge, the noise that all those people outside are creating fills my ears, and I remember why I left my room. "Harry?" I move backwards, not wanting to see Harry's...thing. Sure you don't. My conscience says, smirking.
"Yeah!" Harry yells from the kitchen.
"You're in the kitchen, not across the street. Don't yell so loudly," I scold him.
"Sorry." I enter the kitchen backwards, almost tripping over my own shoes. I hold my arm behind me, Harry's jeans clutched tightly in my hand.
"Harry, there are so many people outside my gate. Reporters, photographers, fans...what's going on?" I ask him, as he takes the jeans from my hand.
"Did word spread about us? Fuck, did someone spot us yesterday?" Harry says, and I can hear a tinge of anger in his tone.
"No, I don't think so." I shake my head.
"You can turn around now." I turn around, my hand still over my eyes. I peer through my fingers, and when I see Harry fully dressed, I remove my hand. "Mus, paparazzi never leave me. I'm sorry for causing you so much inconvenience." Harry slams his fist against the counter. "I'll have to call Troy." Harry heads out of the kitchen, leaving the blender full.
"Harry, I know this isn't the right time, but should I pour you a glass of whatever you made?"
"Sure thing! Thanks, Mus." Harry yells from upstairs. Humming to myself, I take out two long glasses and pour out the...drink that Harry's made. I make my way upstairs, avoiding Nef's toys that are scattered all over the landing and stairs.
"Here." I say, entering the guest room and holding the glass out toward Harry.
"Thanks," Harry murmurs. He's on the phone, his eyebrows furrowed. Looks like he's having a serious conversation with whoever's on the other end. I'm about to exit the room when Harry grabs my hand. I look at his hand wrapped around mine, and my breathing quickens. He leaves my hand and holds up his index finger, motioning for me to wait. I nod my head and sit down on the sofa that Gregg insisted I place in the corner. Now that I think about it, it does look nice. Finally, after about ten minutes, Harry ends the call and sits down on the bed, taking a sip.
"Troy's going to bring security in about two hours. I'm sorry it's taking so long, but it's kind of last minute." Harry says, sitting Indian style. "I'll also miss practice."
"That's fine, Harry. I don't mind your company, you're not that boring." I say, trying to make a joke and lighten the mood. He looks up at me, and raises an eyebrow.
"Not that boring? Excuse me, Madam Mus, what do you mean by that? I am very entertaining."
"Sure Harry, whatever you say," I murmur. I'm lying, and if Harry knew me well enough, he'd know that I am. Harry's company isn't just entertaining, it's unique. One just wants to sit with him and chat for hours, no matter the time or place.
"Mus, should I show you fun? Scratch that, I've been showing you fun since you've known me; should I show you extra fun?" Harry places the glass on the floor near the bed, and gets up. He rubs his palms together and heads toward me.
"What're you planning?" I ask him, raising my eyebrows and getting up. I take a step back, but before I can exit the room, Harry lunges toward me, knocking me back on the sofa. Thank God, the glass on the floor is empty because I hear it clatter to the ground. Harry's fingers wiggle all over my body, making my sides ache due to laughing.
"H-Harry, stop." I try to say between laughs and happy tears.
"Time spent with me isn't fun. Right, Mus?" I shake my head, as Harry's fingers travel into the crook of my neck.
"O-Okay, I'm sorry. S-Stop." Harry stops tickling me, and moves back a little. Just now, when I've stopped laughing and wiped the tears from my eyes, I realize the position that Harry and I are in. He's straddling me, staring into my eyes with a smile on his face. Even though Harry moved back after he stopped tickling me, our faces are still merely inches apart. We're practically breathing the same air.
"You look beautiful when you smile," Harry says.
"You do too," I whisper. I don't want to move. I don't want to say anything and spoil our moment. Our moment, what the hell? This isn't our moment. Time seems to have slowed down all of a sudden. Harry brings his head forward slowly, hesitatingly. I want this, I know I do. But then for some reason, I swing my legs over the couch, knocking us both to the floor. I am such an idiot. Harry and my heads bump, as we land on the floor.
"Shit!" I curse, rubbing my head.
"Mus, is this your habit, bumping your head into other people?" Harry asks me, rubbing his head as well. "Or is this just our thing?"
"It's our thing." The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and my eyes widen when I realize what I just said. A smile stretches across Harry's face and he nods his head.
"It's definitely our thing, Bumper." Harry says, getting up.

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