Through The Dark || Harry Styles

7. LUCY

LUCY

Lola's soft snores can be heard above the sound of tiny plastic tiles being shuffled around the cardboard box.

"Pick up four," Harry says and I roll my eyes at how smug he is when he's winning. Actually, kicking my arse, is more accurate.

He holds the box up unnecessarily high above my head just to annoy me, his white t-shirt riding up and showing off a strip of bare skin.

"Don't be such a sore loser," he grins when I huff and have to stretch up onto my knees to reach before rearranging my new letters on the Scrabble rack in front of me.

It's been a month to the day since my whole life changed, but I've kept my mind focused and my hands busy by helping Harry finally move all of his boxes into his new apartment.

I accompanied him to a dozen or more open house inspections in the last couple of weeks and although I could see that he was using it as an excuse to get us both outside and into the real world, I welcomed the distraction.

This one, the last apartment we saw, ticked every box on the list that I had made for him.

Of course, he complained at how irritating I was at first, but then slowly started to acknowledge that each item I wrote down was essential to his search and he stopped whining as much.

This place he chose is perfect; close to his new workplace, on the second floor, has a renovated bathroom, two bedrooms for all the mountains of unnecessary shit he has but won't throw out, big wardrobes, a decent balcony, sufficient heating and openable windows for the summer.

Harry had apparently moved to San Francisco with nothing more than a couple of suitcases, so buying furniture was next on the agenda. Until then, he is forcing me to sit on the floor, his life in boxes all around us, a bed sheet laid flat under the Scrabble board and two cushions he "borrowed" from my house as seats.

The discarded pizza boxes from our dinner sit up on the kitchen countertop away from Lola's reach and she has instead retreated to the extra sheet Harry laid out for her as a makeshift bed in the corner of the living room.

"I told you I suck at this game," I huff again and it only spurs an evil laugh from my opponent.

"Yeah, and I told you I was awesome at it."

I take a small sip of champagne from the disposable plastic cup Harry handed to me; Cutlery, crockery and pots and pans were also on his "to buy" list.

"Why do you have scrabble but no glasses," I complain even though it was my choice to be here and toast his new place.

"You're lucky this was on top of one of the boxes or else we'd be watching Lola sleep as entertainment."

I smile at the thought of my girl snoring peacefully before I slide down the hardwood floor to lay back onto the cushion I was sitting on. My head falls to the side to watch Harry's dimpled smile retract as he concentrates on the board.

Facing the ceiling, I close my eyes, happy not to be in my house of a million memories for a while and I make a mental note to buy Harry some gardenias to brighten up this place.

"Would you hurry up and win already, my legs are numb," I whine.

When I look back at him, he's already looking at me.

His eyes say something I don't understand and I almost tell him he looks handsome with his careless hair a little wild and messy.

A smile creeps across his face but just before it spreads too far, it curls into a dimpled, lopsided smirk and my heart kicks in my chest.