About (Harry Styles)

15.

"I'm sorry about before."

"About what?" I ask, not sure why he's suddenly apologizing.

"About, well, loads of things," he heavily sighs before continuing. "We haven't known each other for very long, and I already feel as though I've committed a lifetime's worth of crimes towards you."

"Like what?"

"Okay, first off, calling you the B word when I should be addressing you by your full name," he lists but I'm already laughing by his first point. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because, you said B word," I state but it confuses him even more. "Someone who doesn't know our situation would think you'd actually be calling me, you know, the actual swear word."

He slightly chuckles while shaking his head.

"I suppose. But just so you know, I would never call someone by that. Unless I was in a very pissy, dickhead kinda mood."

"Understandable."

"Shall I continue?" He asks and I nod fervently. I absolutely would love to hear more reasons why he feels this way towards me.

He carries on with our past experiences, beginning with the moment he said that it'd be doubtful we'd ever meet again. He briefly explains that he was having a terrible night that night. I asked why but he wouldn't give me a definite answer. Instead of prying, I allow him to continue.

Second, getting me drunk. Which doesn't seem to me like a big deal now.  I ask him why he left that night, but since we're just one day old friends, it's understandable he refrains from telling me.

He also continues listing his apologies for causing me the unnecessary trouble at my first day of work. It wasn't intentional for him to trip on his own two feet. Then persists with causing me even more inconvenience at the farmer's market, and again, for my sprained ankle.

"Maybe I should put you in jail for your crimes, sir?" I tease, eliciting a chuckle from him.

"You might just have to," he plays along. "What's the verdict?"

"Ummm...it was a close one. But the jury found you innocent."

He fakes a relieved sigh, and I find myself .. enjoying myself. This is rather fun. I haven't had this sort of rapport with someone since Marco. Who would have thought that conversation between me and Harry Styles would just flow. It's so effortless and simple, comfortable.

...

It's bumpy. It's terrifying. It's Harry Styles trying to ride a bike.

This was not a good idea.

I have no idea how he talked me into agreeing with this but with my left ankle out, it leaves me no other choice.

It seemed reasonable at the time.

It doesn't seem that reasonable now.

I mean, he rides it fairly well. Except when I'm in the backseat, with nothing much to hold onto other than the edges of his thin running jacket, it feels as though I'm going to fall off the back seat any second.

The bike hits a small bump on the sidewalk, causing my arms to fly around Harry's waist. Holding on for dear life, I screw my eyes shut and tighten my grip around him. My cheek rests on his warm back for a long second before I recollect myself and pull away from him.

Even with him in the front, his face not visible from my view, I can tell that he's wearing a huge grin right now.

My suffering must be so amusing to him.