"So tell me, why do people in America say 'pants' instead of 'underpants'? It's idiotic if I do say so myself." Harry rambled on.
He sat on the lavender couch, while I sat on the other end. His hair was ruffled, while as well as his white shirt, from laying on the couch. The grip on his mug didn't loosen, as he concentrated on the subject. Crossing my legs, I answered.
"Because Harry, pants are what you wear, and underpants are as y'all say it 'knickers'. Underpants are meant to be under your pants, so therefore you have pants. Americans are the normal people here."
"I beg to differ, you would rather drink coffee than tea. Now that is disguisting." He scrunched his nose.
"Coffee is our savor. Without it we would all be nothing." I mentioned, grabbing the blanket and placing it over. "Especially when it has French vanilla creamer."
"French vanilla?" He questioned, "that must be disguisting."
"You must be disguisting."
"Excuse you, I think I'm a rather likeable person when you get to meet me. I'm like hot pizza, at first it weird because you about burned your tounge, but then when you finally taste me, I'm amazing."
"Ew. That sounds horrifying, don't repeat it." His eyes shot wide when he finally noticed what he said.
"I never meant it like that, I swear."
"I know, I was kidding. I don't think you're the womanizer everyone lables you to be. There's more to you than that, I'm sure." I uttered, leaning more towards the couch.
Harry's luxirant verdant eyes, searched my tediant eyes, he didn't speak; no words escaped his patel lips. I couldn't bear the thought of, why this comment took a toll on him? Nevertheless, what was going through that cryptic mind he possesed. Slightly, a beckon of guiltiness aroused me; maybe I was the first to even consider him being a womanizer...My gaze falling to my lap, I attempted to muster up a coherent sentence, I couldn't, not when his glazy eyes were on me.
"You know," Harry spoke up, my eyes meeting his. "You are the first to think likewise, even my lads lable me as: they eye-candy of the band, womanizer, player. It's not hard to decipher what they're thinking everytime the paparrazi make scams. Selena, your the first person who has not held me under prejudice." He came closer to me, grabbing my hands in his, instantly warming up. His eyes bored into mine, as he muttered a shaky 'thank you'. Leaning back on the sofa next to me, Harry smiled.
"I want to get to know you better Sel-bear?" He chuckeld at his own nickname.
"Haha very funny har-bear." His pearly whites reappeared, as did mine.
"Let's play twenty questions, I don't think you're as innocent as you look."
"Try me."I smirked, ready for the game.
"What is your full name?" He asked.
"Selena Marie Gomez." I stated.
"Favorite color?"
"Don't have one." He shot me a puzzled look, before asking.
"How can you not have a favorite color?"
"The question here, Harry, is not 'how' I don't have a favorite color, but rather why I don't inherit one." Harry glanced at me, curiosity building in his eyes. "See, ever since I was a child, the rainbow never truly fascinated me, it never caught my attention; although the meanings, and mixtures did catch my attention. Every color is, and was, a feeling. Not everyone could decipher the meaning, yet it's never the same for the same individual." I concluded my speech. It was a petite while, until Harry spoke up again.
"I have never thought of it liked that. My personal ideal on the favorite colors, was that a color, any color, could be red, blue, maroon, or yellow, meant something for you. Something quite special, as if it reminded you of a distant memory. It could've been the color of your first mates shirt when you met, or the color of the trees, even the shade of somebody's red dress." He stated, looking at me, my breath hitching, I possibly knew what he was talking about. Nervous, yet excited I managed to look him in the eyes.
"You do have a solid point," I stuttered. "It's the perspective of life, that makes you wonder, what is, what was, and why not, you captured the sight, when another is looking the opposite way. The way I interpreted the allusion on favorite colors, could differ from yours, and Beyonce's, who knows?" I questioned.
"Sel, I still think you are not as innocent as you portray yourself to be, but goddamm you are a deep person." He chuckled, running his hand through his hair.
"Thank you very much, I got it off tumblr." I giggled, as he did the same.
"You didn't?!" He gasped, "here I am thinking, the great Selena Gomez is the deepest person I ever met." He shook his head, a little bit of curls falling on his forehead.
"So tell me what's you're favorite color Harry? Since you are so sure everyone deserves to have one."
"My favorite color is," a delicate pause came, as if he was thinking. His eyes searched the room, before answering. "Brown."
"Brown?" I scrunched my nose in slight disgust. "Why?
"Ah, if I told you I would have to kill you." He smirked.
"What's your favorite sound in the world?"
"Hmm, let me show you." I stood up, grasping his hand in mine, I took Harry outside on the porch.
Gazing at him, he stood confused as to why we were standing and watching the alight rainfall. Without talking, I let go of his hand and sprinted into the depths of the forest. I could decipher the sound of Harry's raspy voice calling mind, before hearing him follow me. The forest was dense, and evergreen, yet I found a patch of land that was empty. Turning around I faced him, my hair black wet, and the rain covering my vision.
"What was that for!?" Harry yelled from across, blinking violently due to the rain. Moving closer towards him, my bare feet touched the damp ground.
"Shhh," I shushed him, looking around. " looking around, I continued. " do you hear that?" A silence drew among us. Harry stared at me, then looked around.
The pitter-patter of the rain, manifested a beautiful orchestra, while they fell through the leaves above. The wind picked up, making the flowers and plants sing and dance to the rain. A developed smile slid across my face.
"Rain." Harry stated. "Rain is your favorite sound in the world. You know you could've just told me, than drag me out to the woods." He grinned as we walked back to the cabin.
"But what's the fun in that, honestly?"
"You have a point Gomez."
"As do you Styles." I laughed, before reaching the porch. "I'm going to go check if there's any clothes you could use, maybe a pair of basketball shorts? I don't know if they'll fit."
"Don't worry about it, I have spare clothes in the car."
"Why do you have spare clothes in your car?" I gazed at him quizzically.
"Well you see, one night I went out with my lads to the theater. We were all having a jolly time, and the movie was getting intense, but I drank to much soda. I needed to use the loo, but I thought I could've held it a little but longer. Long story short, I peed my pants, and stank of urine the whole night." He face towards crimson, as he avoided my eyes contact. Me, on the other hand laughed hysterically, clutching my stomach.
"You peed your pants! You big baby." I giggled, wiping my eyes, tears threatening to spill.
"Hey, I have to say almost holding twenty eight ounces of fluid in you for two hours, is impressive."
"That's nothing! I've gone through the Titanic movie with peeing myself." I yelled, as I ran to the room quickly.
Stripping myself, I dried myself quickly with a towel. Promptly, I pulled over a warm sweatshirt from my trip to Disney, and black pajama pants. Pulling my hair into a bun, I walked to the living room.
"Oh my gosh Harry!" I shrieked, covering my eyes from his half nude body. "there was a bathroom down the hall!" I yelled as I could feel myself getting red.
"I thought you were going to take longer, cause girls take a while to change, and all." He laughed.
"Well you thought wrong. Now put a shirt on, I don't want to see you half nude."
"C'mon don't tell me you didn't enjoy the view." Personally, I did, the way his abs flexed when he moved, but no way in hell was I going to admit that.
"I actually didn't, so may you please put a damn shirt on, so I can uncover my eyes." Hearing his feet pad around the room, I refused to let my hands fall.
"Selena," he whispered, his breath fanning my hands. "You can uncover your eyes now." Harry grabbed my hands and pulled them away from my face.
"I like your shirt, Harry. I'm very fond of that band." I spoke, as I went to my bedroom, as he followed.
"Really?" He sounded surprised. "Well my lad Zayn got me hooked on them. I gotta say their legends." Harry muttered as we entered my room.
"Of course Guns N' Roses are," I agreed," what's your favorite song?"
He stared at the wall, as he decided. Quietly I sat on my bed, stretching my cold legs over the mattress.
"I have to say, Paradise City." He smiled, as he sat on the other end of the bed. "What about yours?"
"Hmm, I would have to go with Don't Cry, and Sweet Child O' Mine."
"Those are beautiful songs." His voice rang, looking over at me.
"With a tad bit of rock n' roll."
Harry laughed, his eyes scrunching at the sides, and his dimples showing. His laughter made me smile, as I gazed at him. And at that very moment, I didn't think about anyone nor anything, I just absorbed the pure delightfulness of seeing Harry laugh. And I think I found a new favorite sound, not music or the rain, but the organic laughter of Harry Edward Styles.
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x. Jackie