the social experiment // haylor au

eight // content

Harry and Taylor had texted almost non-stop the next few days, with a whole lot more flirty playfulness than they usually allowed. But a line had been crossed on Friday night, and as much as Taylor was a trained psychologist and Harry owned one of the fastest growing tech start-ups, they were just two people in love, who had no idea how to handle themselves.

They hadn't explicitly stated that fact to each other yet, but it didn't even go over the head of a certain nine year old. They were obvious. It was only a matter of time.

Text from: Taylor

> Don't! Ring the doorbell.

> Need to talk to you downstairs

> Text me when you're here

Harry laughed to himself as he meandered up Taylor's path, quickly tapping a quick "okay, here" and locking his phone. He had left work a bit earlier than he was accustomed to, and had driven over to Taylor's townhouse (thankfully, not on a day when her ex would be anywhere near them). He was there because, even though he and Taylor were quite willing to be apart and get their shit together, Kennedy had not forgotten about the movie the two adults had promised her. And so here he was.

The young girl's insistence at the movie evening had caused the two adults' inevitable conversation about feelings to be pushed forward about three days. Harry, having repeated over and over – in his head, and out loud – what he wanted to say to Taylor, still felt as if he wasn't ready for their conversation.

But judging from the buzzing of his body after the events of Friday night (and the days following) he had a feeling he wasn't going to mind the shift in their relationship. He was at her door, smirking slightly at what had happened just on the other side of if, when it swung slowly open, revealing the woman who hadn't left his mind in the past four days (and nights).

Taylor was in relaxed flowy shorts and a white graphic t-shirt, looking completely refreshed, like she'd had a good, restful day. Her smile was conspiratory as she ushered him inside and into the consulting room and shut the door.

"Sorry for the secrecy," she excused herself as she sat on the long couch and patted the spot directly next to her, wanting him close by. He settled on the soft cushions, their thighs touching as they both slowly made eye contact.

"So-"

"Uh, about what happened on Friday," she paused and he gestured for her to continue, "I don't think we can pretend that kiss didn't happen."

Her heart leapt momentarily as she flashed back to their thrumming bodies pressed flush against each other, and how she'd missed his warmth ever since; which was the reason for their close proximity currently.

"I don't particularly want to, either," Harry said softly, leaning closer to her, smelling her scent – lavender, and a faint hint of the apple shampoo he knew she liked.

"The thing is – wow, I am such a cliché – but our friendship is so important to me, Harry. Would we be able to come back from this if we, you know, pursued a romantic relationship?"

It was quiet for a long while as both of them sat, eye contact unbroken as Harry struggled for a moment to articulate his thoughts, and Taylor searched his expression with a blank stare. "Taylor," he sighed, finally beginning to wade through the mess in his head, "I value our friendship a lot. But—but if I'm contented with what we currently have," he made sure she was looking directly at him: he didn't understand what sort of expression she was giving off, "I still... I still feel like I can't win."

He saw her eyebrows come together at that, and slowly, a small smile graced her features. "You, what?" the smile got bigger, "You want to be my," she laughed this time, and so did he. "You want to be my boyfriend?"