The Things You Mean to Me // Harry Styles Series #1 - Holmes Chapel

Why Don't We Go There?

The band played a wedding that weekend. It was kind of a big deal, even though the groom was Will's cousin. If they were pulling gigs like that at sixteen and seventeen, imagine what they might be doing at twenty.

Harry texted me around midnight.

'was good had some champ helppoetry mine 2'

I was happy to hear it had been a success, could definitely tell he'd had some champagne, and would of course help him with our poetry homework at his house at two o'clock the next afternoon.

'see you then drunk muppet'

'haha k thx'

Harry lived on the other side of town, but town was small enough that the other side really wasn't far. The day was cloudy but dry, and not too chilly, so the walk was nice.

The house was one in a row of six, set back from the busy street. He must have been waiting at the door, because he opened it after my first knock. His hair was damp, and he smelled of freshly washed boy. I was introduced to his mom, Anne, and her boyfriend, Robin, who were very friendly.

As we went up the stairs Anne called out, "Remember the rules!"

"Right!" He yelled. Then, to me, in a quiet voice as he rolled his eyes, "Door open, light on, same as yours."

"Are you allowed to have a girl over when no one else is home?"

"They've never said I wasn't..." he smiled the big smile, the dimple smile. My heart legit skipped a beat.

His room was small, tidy, and full of teenage boy stuff. Bed, desk, dresser. Curtains in a jungle animal print that had probably been there since he was a toddler. A picture of a football, which is soccer, team he supported. Some music posters, some car posters, no girls in bikinis - to his credit.

Harry picked up his textbook from the desk and sat on the bed, against the headboard, patting the duvet for me to join him. We were dissecting Shakespearian sonnets, and he was having a hard time with one in particular. After going through it line by line, he slid down to lay his head on my lap.

"I'm beat. Will you just read a few of the others to me?"

Who was I to say no?

He was asleep before I finished the first one, but I kept reading aloud and began to run my fingers through his hair - something I'd wanted to do since the day I visited school and saw him across the classroom. I was pretty sure he wouldn't mind.

As he slept, I took a good look at his face, the kind of look you can't take when you might get caught. He made me think of a quote from Aristotle that I'd read somewhere. "The whole is greater than the sum of its parts."

Each individual feature on his face was attractive, except for his mouth, which I suddenly decided was perfect.

His lips were a deep pink, the top curving gently, its center dipping in a well-defined point that rested on a soft bottom lip. How had I missed this? Maybe I was distracted by the bluish-green eyes, or the dimples.

And those were just the parts. Put together they were something more. Something really amazing. Maybe I had been wrong. Maybe he wasn't a cute guy waiting to grow into handsome. Maybe he was already there. How had I missed this?

Maybe I just hadn't been looking at him the way I was that day... but how exactly was that?

It hit me like a ton of bricks, as that beautiful boy stirred in his sleep, wrapping an arm over my lap. I loved him. As a friend, first and foremost, but also with a hopeful glimmer of something more. Oh Harry, I thought, you don't have to say you love me, you don't have to say you're mine, but I wonder if you feel just a little like I do?

The girls had said they saw him looking at me in a more than friendly way, but he hadn't kissed me in the snow. I needed to sort this out.

I cleared my throat a little, thinking it might wake him, but instead he started to snore, so I went back to reading aloud and playing with his curls.

Halfway through sonnet one hundred sixteen, I heard footsteps on the stairs. Anne's face peeked around the doorframe, checking in on us because we'd been so quiet, I guess, and I held my finger to my mouth to say shh. She tiptoed in and smiled as she saw her son curled around me.

"He's been asleep for at least half an hour," I whispered, "I hope this is ok." I suddenly realized that we were in a kind of intimate position.

"It's fine, dear. Are you comfortable? Just move him if your legs are falling asleep."

I shook my head, "I'm ok."

She pulled her phone from her pocket and, smiling one of those misty mom smiles, took a close up photo of his face and went back downstairs.

I started the sonnet again.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds...

I felt the change in Harry about halfway through, saw the little crinkles at the outside of his eyes deepen and the corners of his mouth pull up. His arm squeezed around my hips lightly.

When I finished, he opened his eyes and smiled up at me.

"I've drooled on your jeans."

Oh yeah, I definitely loved my nap muppet.

~

The first week of March was weird.

I had a mission, and it wasn't exactly easy: figure out exactly how Harry felt about me.

Emma had no luck asking Haydn about it. He just said Harry kept himself to himself. Kiki couldn't get anything out of her brother. He just said Harry kept himself to himself. I asked Nick. He just said Harry kept himself to himself.

Either they were all sworn to secrecy or Harry really didn't share that stuff with his friends.

I was feeling particularly frustrated on Thursday morning as we walked to school in a miserable drizzle, but too chicken to just ask him outright if he liked me that way. Sometimes being a teenager is so complicated. So I decided to take a different approach, skirting the true subject but gathering some adjacent intel.

"Harry?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you ever look at my boobs?"

"What?"

That had surprised him. Good.

"You heard me. Why don't you ever look at my boobs. All the boys do. Most of them don't even try to hide it. But not you. Why?"

He seemed deep in thought, pinching that bottom lip, as we walked along.

"I suppose because I've never really noticed them."

"Everybody notices them. Are you... not interested in boobs?" Oh, damn, I just went there, out of the blue.

He smiled that crooked, kind of wicked grin that I liked.

"Oh, I'm interested. But, you know, Mum is... ample... in that department. Maybe I'm just used to not noticing. I'll ogle yours now, if you'd like."

He ogled, and I turned beet red.

"Stop! I didn't mean I particularly wanted you to. I was just curious why you hadn't." I crossed my arms in front of myself and walked faster, out from under the umbrella.

"Come back, Olivia. I'm sorry. I won't ogle again."

I slowed until we were side by side again, and he looked at me with a cheeky side eye.

"But they are quite nice."

I ran the rest of the way to school.