This waiting game is stressing me out, and it had not escaped my family's notice that I'd been checking my phone every two seconds for notifications. I replied yesterday afternoon, which means it has now been hours since that.
"You're like a schoolgirl with a massive crush," Brandon snorts, catching me check my phone again.
"It's Harry Styles," I deadpan.
He leans over the couch, propping himself up on his elbow. "So he's rich and famous, so undeniably your type—you know with the curly hair and jawline thing—"
"Things you'll never be."
"Okay," he just laughs it off, "there are, for sure, a million other girls after him including but not limited to Victoria's Secret models and Kendall Jenner type of people."
A front automatically rises, and I act like I wasn't the least bit affected by that dig. He watches me, no hint of smugness on his face and I know I have to let that slide. I sigh internally. You would think living with women for more than twenty years would make him a bit more sensitive than other men, but somehow those innate idiotic tendencies always resurface. And sometimes I gotta be the bigger person.
Yeah, no.
"What's up with you?" I ask, making him frown in confusion. "You're like listing off things you'll never have."
"Ken, I'm just saying."
He says that before chuckling, and the urge to piss him off is stronger than ever. Claudia had been on her phone across the room and decides that was the perfect time to intervene.
"Brandon, lay off," she sighs, "don't ruin this for Kennedy."
"What—how am I ruining it for Kennedy?"
Claudia goes off, clearly from irritation. Men are so blind sometimes. "You're literally jabbing on every girl's insecurities." She huffs at Brandon's clueless face. "How would you feel if a Victoria's Secret model messages you and we basically tell you not to be excited about it 'cause she probably could have any guy in the world including you because she's 'rich and famous?'"
"I wouldn't be bitter about it," he shrugs.
"Brandon, you fųcking idiot," I yell at him. "This is the exact reason why you don't have a girlfriend."
"Twenty-five years with women and you're still as dumb as fųck," Claudia mutters, getting up and heading to her room. To which I reply with an "Amen, sister!"
I roll my eyes at him and move towards my own room. Fųcking idiotic brother. This is one of the few times I want to choke him so badly and I hate it, I hate it so much when he gets like this 'cause it affects me too. The cloud returns and I feel myself spiraling into a bad mood.
I can feel the excitement from having Harry reply leave my body. It's a terrible feeling, having anticipation ripped away from you and just leaving a void of where it used to sit. I try to get my mind off of it but she just won't cooperate.
Along with my darkening mood came the overthinking. Brandon was right, even when he was being such a díck about it. Harry could have anyone he wanted and he did—Kendall Jenner, Camille Rowe, a few other girls he had been rumored to be an item with.
The media had painted him as a Casanova, and there was a basis behind that. Maybe he really had dated all those girls and briefly enjoyed their company. God knows how many times he's been photographed out with them and how many articles had been published about his conquests. Maybe he really is a player and he's hitting on an array of different girls—I catch myself mid-thought. Way to fųcking go, Kennedy. Way to judge a guy without actually having met him.
I rub my hands over my face and groan in frustration. What the ever flying fųck is wrong up here? Had I really been considering the idea that Harry is exactly how the media says he is? I've seen multiple proofs of how genuinely good he is as a person, why had I been entertaining that train of thought just now?
He doesn't objectify women, he's extremely polite and courteous even when he's tired and irritated (which is something I admit I could never be), and he actually loves and treasures his friends. He didn't deserve where my thoughts were leading me.
I scream into my pillow and Salem notices, cuddling up to me. I take her into my arms and snuggle with her. At least she isn't a pain to be with.
Right at that moment, Brandon knocks on my already open door before popping his head in. My irritation resurfaces.
"What?"
At least he had the decency to look sheepish. He steps in and rubs his nape. "I realized how wrong it was for me to say the things I said. I just wanted to apologize."
"So apologize."
He blinks for a second. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. Sometimes my mouth speaks before my brain processes my thoughts. I'm an idiot."
"You have the brain of a frog," I mutter, looking away and picking up my Kindle.
"And you remind me everyday of it." And just like that, I feel my anger wither away. Unlike most guys, Brandon does actually apologize (most times) when he realizes he'd been in the wrong, which is why I can honestly say that he's been the only decent guy I've met. Sure, he has his lapses, but he actually learns from it. Most of whom I've met make me glad to actually be single.
I look back at him and smirk. "Who else would?"
"Nobody, probably," he grins and I shrug. Knowing his pattern, I wait for him to try to make up for his mistake by offering to drive for me, or go get something with me, or even buying me food and/or makeup. "I've ordered pizza by the way," he says, already halfway out of my room, "I'll text you when it's here."
Bingo.
"Yeah, yeah," I wave him away.
"And you're beautiful, Kennedy, don't let my stupid ass tell you otherwise," he says under his breath.
"And just like that, you've ruined your groveling and made it awkward at the same time. Congratufuckinglations."
I hear his chuckle and footsteps fading. I laugh too when I'm sure he's out of earshot.
Right as I pick my Kindle up, my phone pings from a notification. I steel my heart and pick it up from the bed.
Direct message from Harry Styles
Fųck. I press my lips together to hold in a squeal. When I feel like I can't, I dive into the bed head-first and scream, my legs flailing. I pound my fist on the bed and scream again.
"Okay okay okay okay okay," I mutter with the biggest smile on my face. "Play it cool. Don't be creepy. Don't be creepy."
My tap on the notification brings me to our Twitter conversation. I read it from the beginning.
Hi Kennedy, just checking if you're still kicking after the show. My sincere apologies, x H
I had been until you messaged. You're invited—wake is at Maryland.
I really hope you're joking. If in case you're not, send me directions then?
Holy shit. Holy fucking shit.
No amount of expletives could help express how I feel. My hands start shaking and I let go of my phone for a moment to try and gather myself first. I press my palms against my cheeks, feeling it flame up. Is this really happening?
The strange flutter in my chest refuses to go away. ITAUTSNGENTWURAJTS—that is how I feel, a little anxious about this exchange and a lot overwhelmed. And that response! Jesus Christ, is he flirting? I shut the idea down before I could think better of it. No, Kennedy. Do not go there.
I type in a response.
I've liked you since One Direction.
Pfft. "Like" was a mild way to put it. And I might as well paint a neon "PSYCHO (but cute)" sign on my forehead. I delete it and type a new one.
I'm twenty-one—legal in most states. Oh, and I'm also fine, how are you?
I snort. Yes, twenty-one years old, and apparently still unable to flirt despite the many romcoms I have as a reference. I delete that and type in our address. I frown and toss my phone away.
"This is pretty damn hard," I groan, using a British accent.
"Kennedy!" I jolt at the sound of Claudia's voice. "There are children present!"
"You one of them?" I roll my eyes.
She just smirks. "I see you're in a better mood."
I look away from her and play with the hem of my top since Salem jumped down from the bed and wandered off. "Harry . . . Harry replied."
"What'd he say?"
I scoot to give her space when she sits down on my bed, eager to hear about it. "That he hoped I was joking and if I weren't, then I should send him our address."
Her eyes were wide. "Well, what'd you say?"
I don't answer immediately, suddenly ashamed of my previous scratched up replies. I watch as her eyes dart around my bed. When they land on my phone, she grabs it and starts reading. I jerk and reach for it, colliding with her in the process.
"Claudia, give me that!"
She leans away and holds my phone using her outstretched arm, keeping it away from me. I lunge towards it, accidentally elbowing her in the process. She yelps, instinctively pushing my arm away. This causes me to lose my grip and send the phone tumbling off of my bed.
"Claudia!" I yell in horror.
"Well, you elbowed me!"
I grunt and pick my phone up from the floor, checking the screen for cracks or scratches, and that's when my eyes zero in on it.
I turn towards Claudia. The complete and utter horror on my face makes her dash towards me. I show her my screen—our address. In a blue speech bubble.
"Shit," she winces.
Shit didn't even begin to cover it. "Kennedy the psycho," I spit with venom, "thanks a lot, Claudia."
"Can't you like . . . unsend it or something?" Her eyes are squinted as she steps back like she's waiting for me to explode or come at her.
"This isn't Instagram." The gravity of the embarrassment dawns in on me, and I feel my face growing hotter by the second. "Fųųck!" I drawl, facing the ceiling.
"Just, um, say something smart to cover it up. I'm sure he would play along."
Say something smart. Hah. Like it's that easy to talk to him and not overthink every reply I send out. I ignore my sister and swipe on my screen, trying to come up with something to downplay sending our actual Maryland address. Jesus Christ, this is hard.
I frown in confusion when the speech bubbles move up. But then I see it, three dots, imitating the movement of an ocean wave. Holy fucking shit! No! No! No! I scramble for a witty cover-up, my fingers missing some of the letters.
Just as I was about to hit send, his reply comes in, beating me to it.
That was a joke. I didn't think you'd actually send it, considering we've only just met. Didn't you stop to think that maybe I wanted to take things slow? ;)
The cheesiness of his reply makes me snort, blood rushes up to my cheeks, and an uncontrollable grin lights my face up.
I hide behind my hands when Claudia notices the change in my mood and asks if Harry had replied. I try to push down the giddy feeling and show her my screen. I watch her eyes soak in every word and her face slowly light up as well.
I can't hold it in, I squeal. "He's fųcking adorable!"
"Told you he'd play along."
"Yeah, right, that was a coincidence," I roll my eyes. "You owe me for that."
"Yeah, yeah," she waves me off, already out of my room, "go ride into the sunset with your soft e-boy."
"He's not an e-boy."
I beam at my screen and plop back down onto the bed. The closeted narcissist in me is starting to think that Harry's just a tiny bit flirting with me, but my more rational and realistic alter-ego chastised her. That winky face does not mean anything. He's just being playful.
I start typing.
Oh, no pressure. It's not like I'm expecting free merch on my doorstep now. ;)
Ugh, creep. I delete it and type out a new one.
Slow? Like the time-difference-between-our-last-messages-slow?
I smirk. That's way too forward. Delete!
That address was our neighbor's actually. Big fans. Would blast your music 24/7 after I told them I'd trash their house w toilet paper if they didn't. Wonderful people, really.
I read it one last time before hitting send. Does Harry appreciate sass and sarcasm? I hope he does and actually can say something just as sarcastic.
My phone pings and I immediately look over my notifications. My heart deflates when I see Brandon's name. He's just texted about the pizza.
I drag myself out of bed and head into the kitchen. When I arrive, I see Claudia, Mom, Brandon, Nick, and Cory already there. I wordlessly perch on the stool and reach over for the pizza.
"Look at what the cat dragged in," Cory says, clicking his tongue thrice. "Congratulations to Kennedy Walsh on leaving her room for the second time this week!" He starts clapping and motioning for the others to do the same.
"Idiot, I was here an hour ago," I say, munching on a small piece.
"Third then!" He exclaims. "Outstanding!"
I try to scowl at him but the corner of my lips had other ideas. I hide the smile threatening to appear on my face by stuffing my face with pizza instead and flip him off. He chuckles and turns to Brandon and Nick, planning when to upload the Tindervention video.
My phone pings, and I grab it in a nanosecond.
Direct message from Harry Styles.
My heart starts beating frantically. I doubt I could ever get over this. He's Harry fųcking Styles, for Christ's sake. World-famous pop star. Sold out arenas. Tours all over the globe. Millions of fans. One of the greatest musicians of the decade. Should I go on?
I bite my lip in anticipation before clicking on the notification.
I hope you didn't go through with toilet paper—they're pretty easy to clean up. May I suggest vandalism? Perhaps a self-portrait on one of their walls?
My head perks up at the sound of my name. Only then do I realize the humongous, Texas-sized smile on my face. I see the guys staring amusedly at me.
"What?" I ask.
Brandon murmurs something to Cory and shakes his head before downing a can of soda. Cory turns back to me with his thick brows raised.
"Is he really?"
I frown. "Is he really . . . What?"
"Harry Styles . . ."
I relax in understanding, but the giddiness bubbles up in me uncontrollably. I push my hair back behind my ear and whisper a "yes".
Cory nods, a distant expression on his face. "Oh," he says, then after a few beats he adds with an odd wink, "careful. Some celebrities are closeted psychos."
"Exactly my type," I say in a heartbeat, an intentional dreamy smile on my face. I smirk at him then, "But I think we both know which one between 'closeted' and 'psycho' applies to Harry."
Claudia's jaw drops to the floor and Brandon wheezes. Nick, who was about to head out, snorts. Cory just looks at me with brows raised and a smile threatening to break from his face.
----
I mean, obviously. Happy 26th birthday to our man crush everyday! And stream Walls everywhere! 💕