"Ringo and Penny Lane look very happy with their new home," I announced after we'd finished setting up the fish tank.
A tank that took forever to pick out, I might add. Luke had wanted a six-foot aquarium tank which was absurd given that Ringo was approximately three centimetres long.
"He's a goldfish, not a shark," I'd told him. "What if he wants to have guests over? He needs the extra space," Luke argued, until I hinted that he must be trying to over compensate for something. Then he shut up and we agreed on a small tank that came with a timber stand.
"You're naming her Penny Lane?" he asked, still standing in front of the fish tank. I was now sitting on the edge of the couch, watching the two fish make themselves at home.
"I thought I'd keep it within your chosen Beatles theme."
"Stel - " he began, but I moved my gaze back to the small fish tank where both were swimming amongst the plants and white pebbles. It was a relief to see Ringo actually swimming, he'd looked a little off this afternoon.
"He looks happy."
"Penny looks smitten," he said. I could still feel his eyes on me.
"And Stella feels hungry," I laughed, turning my attention back to Luke. "Do you feel like pizza?"
He finally sat down, still keeping a fair bit of distance between us, "I always feel like pizza." He picked up one of the cushions between his hands, "You know, if you wanted to have dinner with me, you could have just asked."
"Yeah, but then I wouldn't have got to see your face light up at the word pizza," I giggled. I loved the way we always seemed to mock each other, twisting our past conversations into private jokes.
"You're a dork," he said, throwing the cushion at me which I caught between my hands. I used to play netball back in school, and my reflexes were still pretty quick.
"And you just lost yourself one slice of pizza. Keep it up, Hemmings, and you'll go home hungry."
We'd not long ordered the pizza when the doorbell rang. I looked at Luke who was still paying attention to the 10 Most Requested Videos segment playing on Channel V. I'd stopped focusing when Shake It Off made the cut again.
Grabbing my purse to pay the world's fastest delivery guy, I opened the door and immediately felt disappointed and terrified. Disappointed because my dinner wasn't here yet, and terrified because Aunty Peg was.
She greeted me with a kiss either side of my cheek. "Don't just stand there. It's freezing out here."
"Did we have plans?" I asked, barely budging out of the doorway. I was hoping to stall a while longer.
"No," she shook her head. "I just wanted to check in. I haven't heard from you much this week."
Aunty Peg pushed past me and walked straight into the living room. Luke noticed her immediately and stood up.
"And who do we have here?"
"I'm Luke," he gave her a small wave. Aunty Peg wasn't one for small gestures, though. She wrapped her arms around his body that stood much taller than her own, and pulled him into a tight hug like she had known him for years.
"I'm Margaret, but call me Peg, or Aunty Peg. Stelly has told me so much about you," she beamed up at him, looking completely taken by him.
"Ah, no I haven't." And when, in my whole entire life, have you ever called me Stelly?!
Luke laughed, "Really?" he directed to Aunty Peg before turning to me, "What exactly have you said about me, Stelly?"
I looked at him menacingly. That's it, I wasn't sharing any of my pizza with that boy. For a moment, it fell silent. Aunty Peg just stood admiring us like we were Prince William and the Duchess of Cambridge.
"Before you leave, you have to meet Ringo and Penny Lane," I said, hoping she'd get the hint and leave sooner rather than later. It wasn't that I didn't love my aunt, but she enjoyed trying to embarrass me and for once I think she was succeeding.
"Ringo?" She screwed up her nose, crouching down by the fish tank. "I much preferred McCartney myself. He was such a babe in his younger days."
That's just gross, I thought. "I don't know, I'm kind of into drummers," I said with a smile. Luke glared at me. That will teach you for calling me Stelly.
The doorbell rang again and this time it really was the pizza. Luke offered to get it and I didn't argue. "No wonder you like him," Aunty Peg raised her eyebrows at me, a knowing smile tugging on her lips.
"That pink lipstick is way too bright for you," I pointed out, ignoring that she had basically just said she found Luke attractive. "Are you going to stay here and torture me further?"
She rolled her eyes, which was very disturbing for a woman of her age. "You kids of today, you're no fun." She brushed past me over to Luke. "Lovely to meet you, Luke. I hope you know you've got your work cut out for you with this one."
"I hope you know I'm standing right here," I reminded them both, folding my arms.
Luke laughed and graciously accepted another hug from Aunty Peg before she left. I opened the pizza box revealing one large pepperoni pizza and took a slice. "So, that's Aunty Peg," I laughed, taking a bite of pizza. "She's kind of crazy sometimes. She has no idea how to act her age, but she keeps an eye on me. Or more accurately, I keep an eye on her."
He took a piece of pizza himself and sat back down on the lounge, "I like her," he took a bite and we sat chewing our food in silence. "I like you too, Stelly."
My stomach did a weird flip-flop, "You're not so bad yourself, Quiff Boy."
-
The following day at work, I was using the work computer to do a little research. Facebook research. Okay, I was Face-Stalking.
I'd already found Luke on Facebook, and sent him a friend request without too much consideration. We were friends, weren't we? I thought I'd try and find Harry on there too. You can tell a lot about a person by their social media accounts, and there was a curious part of me that was determined to know more about him.
Plus, I'd made a stupid promise to Luke and now had no idea how I was going to fulfil it because I didn't even know Harry's surname. The first time we met, he told me that he worked for a record label... do you think I could remember the name of it to Google? No.
The soft bell rang as the store door opened, ending my stalking session. It was for the best, really. "Who cares about Harry anyway?" I mumbled, closing the tabs in the web browser.
"You tell me."
Fuck.
"I was hoping I'd find you here," Harry spoke slowly, thankfully not asking why I had been muttering his name. He was wearing another printed shirt, half unbuttoned as usual. It was like he enjoyed flaunting his perfectly toned body.
"Stella?" he said softly, and I flinched realising I'd been silent for too long.
"How can I help you?" I asked politely.
"I have a business proposition for you," he smiled, placing his hands on the counter. Is it weird to say that he had beautiful hands? I'd never believed that hands could be beautiful - or un-beautiful - before. I'd always just thought of hands as hands, all relatively the same. Harry's were beautiful though. It was like they were wasted by being a functional body part. They belonged in an art gallery.
Finally tearing my eyes away from his hands, I looked up. "If it involves exchanging money for sexual acts, I'm not interested," I joked.
"It only involves one of those things," he said with an amused smile.
My heart raced along with my head. This is happening, isn't it? He's one of those kinky Mr Grey types. This is just like the hardware store scene, only Harry isn't here to buy cable ties. He's here to buy mood music to play in his red sex-room or -
"We'd like to pay you a small fee in exchange for advertising some of the smaller bands signed to the label. Posters, small merchandise, that sort of thing."
My entire body relaxed, and yet, I felt strangely disappointed. The idea of becoming Harry's personal version of Anastasia Steele wasn't entirely unappealing. That's when I realised I was looking at his tattooed chest again.
"Oh, okay, sure," I nodded. "I mean, I'll have to check with my boss but he usually let's me take the reigns on things like this."
His beautiful hands locked together on the counter, "Shall I email you with the written proposition then?"
"You shall," I rolled my eyes, handing over one of our business cards. He was only 21. Why did he need to use words like shall? Speak like a normal twenty-one year old, for god's sake.
"Are you always this sarcastic?" he laughed, his dimples making an appearance by the corners of his mouth. I liked it when he smiled like that.
"Yes," I said bluntly. "Aren't you a music scout? Why did they send you down here?"
He leaned over the counter, "They didn't send me. I volunteered."
His lips looked the most perfect shade of pink and I noticed light stubble running along his jaw. For a few seconds, it was completely silent except for the sound of Harry breathing.
Then he peeled back, taking his hands off of the counter and I could actually breathe again. "I'm looking forward to us working together."
The thought didn't occur to me until Harry had left the store and I had to leave it unattended (Louis wasn't there that day) to run after him. Literally, run. Harry's long legs had already taken him to the end of the block. You owe me big time, Luke, I thought as my lungs felt like they might cave in on themselves.
"Harry," I called out, before I was entirely breathless. As a side note to myself: must exercise more frequently. "I actually have a favour to ask you."
"Does it involve exchanging money for sexual acts?" he laughed, and I did too. He was so much easier to talk to like this.
"It only involves one of those things," I joked, tilting my head to look at him properly. "No, my friend Luke, from 5SOS, well, they've written some new songs. I think he was sort of hoping for you to hear them. They're playing next Saturday night."
I don't know why Luke thought that I would be able to get Harry there. He seemed to have this idea that Harry and I were friends, even though I'd told him we were barely acquaintances.
"Oh," Harry closed his mouth, his jaw tensing slightly. "I'll see, okay? Goodbye, Stella."
basically lella are all cute and fun together and hella have a lot of tension going on