About (Harry Styles)

29.

A/N: OMG  - forgive my horrible edit...

I went a little further out this time, exploring almost every inch of the enormous vessel. And even though there are a few good pictures I took among the ship, I'm undeniably unsatisfied with it. I feel so confined and immobile in this space. There's only so many pictures I can take of the ocean til I get bored. It all looks the same from no matter which angle I take it.

The room is quiet when I return hours later. Harry Styles is nowhere in sight as my eyes roam the room. The food cart is missing, the bed is made, and the foods on the floor have all been cleaned up.

I hope he didn't clean it up all by himself.  I'm sure that our steward came to service it. 

I walk to the window, but something on the couch catches my eye, making me stop two steps in. It's a brown journal, a pen sticking out from the end. It's definitely not mine. I've never even owned a journal. 

It must be Harry Styles'. He doesn't seem like the type though.

The temptation of opening it and reading a page is hard to swallow. I know I shouldn't, but I feel myself being allured to the private book of Harry Styles' private thoughts, forbidden pages only restricted for his eyes.

"You're back," a voice calls from ahead me, startling me in the process. My eyes dart to my cabin mate who is walking towards me from the bathroom. His hair is wet, some strands of his hair glued to the side of his face before he runs his fingers through it. He must've just finished showering.

"Yeah," I reply. "I should probably do that as well."

"What?" He questions as I head to my suitcase on the floor by the window. As I drag it along with me towards the bathroom, I don't give a glance towards him before I turn to close the door.

"Shower," I answer before closing it but not before I catch a smirk on his lips.

...

"I'm bored," Harry repeats for the fifth time.

After my shower, I do nothing but lay in bed and diddle on my phone, sending Marco random emojis, checking up on current events, playing some very exciting word games that Marco recommended I download.

"Aren't you bored?" He asks, and I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the screen of my phone. I've been doing so well at avoiding him, I shouldn't give in so easily. "Can I have your opinion on something?"

Putting my phone down in my lap, my eyes find his across the room. He's standing over by the wall where his belongings are.

"Sure." I had to give in. I would come off extremely rude if I didn't.

He bends down, disappearing for a moment. I hear the unbuckling of a case before I see him again with a guitar in his hand.

"You're going to play me a song?" I ask, sounding more excited than I wanted to.

He nods with a smile as he sits down on the sofa. Now that he has captured my undivided attention, I sit up on the bed, facing him. In a pretzel legged position, I wait for him to play as he strums the guitar a few times, making sure that they are in tune.

"I want you to be honest. I'm not really sure if I like the melody."

I nod enthusiastically. 

"You ready?" He asks, and I nod again. "Okay," he mutters encouragingly, quietly to himself.

With a deep breath, he carefully sets his long fingers in position before glancing up at me again, his eyes wavering once he meets my gaze.

Is he nervous playing for me? Why would he be nervous?