Remember Me [harry styles] ✓

27 - Segways and screeching

"Excuse me, best friend coming through."

Harry wears the title like a badge; making his way through the rubberneckers with purposeful strides. The buzz of concern is now one of excitement, and I watch - mortified - as phone cameras appear from jean pockets. It's not Harry's best look - baggy cords with ripped knees, and famous locks squashed under a glossy black helmet. But the cameras click away anyway and Harry ignores them as if they're not even there.

"Juni, you good?" He asks a little breathlessly when he finally comes to a standstill. He's wearing that serious facial expression of his - the one with the frown and the intense stare. I want to smooth the deep groove that rests between his eyebrows, but it was his idea to hire Segways in the first place and therefore his damn fault that I'm even on my arse right now - and so I keep my hands to myself. The excitable buzzing grows louder and with a reluctant sigh, Harry finally addresses our audience. "Can we have some space please?"

Embarrassed, they dissipate. Even more embarrassed, I groan.

"Are you hurt?" He offers me one of his ring-clad hands; fingers twitching impatiently as I try to remember how to get my legs to cooperate with my brain.

"Just my pride." I grab hold of him and haul myself up, wincing. Oh boy, my backside is going to bruise like a peach.

The stern expression softens, moulding into a brazen one that I know so well. "Well, that was certainly one way to make it stop."

I attempt to shoot Harry a glare that screams - do not fuck with me, I just nearly died, hands on hips, one eyebrow raised, sassy lip pout. The works. But his lips twitch and in turn - mine twitch too, and then Harry is grinning; all infectious and charming and without even thinking about it - I'm laughing. Full on bent-over-clutching-belly laughing. Damn traitorous mouth.

Harry's resounding laugh is deep enough that it seems to resonate through me and the wooden decking beneath our feet. Frantic tears escape the corners of my eyes and stream down my cheeks; dribbling into the neckline of my camisole, but neither of us shows any sign of letting up. Laughing with Harry like is this almost indescribable. It's carefree and easy in a way that I've not experienced with him yet, and although my stomach muscles hurt and my backside is throbbing - I'm not sure I want it to stop. I want to laugh with Harry like this every single day for the rest of my life.

Eventually, breathlessly and with crows feet - we make eye contact. "This is all your fault, you know?" I tell him, but I'm still smiling. Grinning even.

"What is? The fact that you look the happiest I have ever seen you? I'm totally fine with that, Juni." He says it with jest but also determined, as if trying to prove a point. "Although, it's hardly my fault that you ride a Segway like a technophobic Grandma."

"You are so asking for a slap." I grit out, but I can hardly be mad at him when he's still wearing that ridiculous helmet. Coils of unruly hair poke out from behind his ears and I can only imagine the state mine must be in given that Harry didn't even have an accident. It feels like it's probably stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck from all the stress sweating. I unclip my helmet and wedge it under my arm, before giving my hair a shake.

Harry watches me with a single raised eyebrow before pulling his own lid off of his head. "What are you - a horse?"

I almost launch my helmet at him. Almost.

"Stop looking at me as if you want to hurt me and I'll get you an ice cream to make up for your little accident." He smirks while retrieving his phone out of his jeans with his free hand. I roll my eyes at his forced patronising tone and watch him dial a number from Google.