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

'Cause I Wanna Be Yours, Do You Wanna Be Mine?

By Friday afternoon I had resigned myself to a lifetime of disappointment. Figuring out Harry Styles was like chasing the clouds. Yes, I could just ask, but what if he said no and things got weird. I couldn't risk such losing a good friend over some potential snogging. Like I said before, being a teenager is really complicated.

Saturday morning dawned almost sunny and completely dry. I made the walk to the bakery for the first time ever without a coat. I was the only customer, so Harry and I chatted out front while he gathered my order.

"It's going to be lovely tomorrow. Shall we have a picnic by the river?"

We made our plans and I bought a few extra pies to take with us. On the way home I debated whether or not I would press the subject tomorrow. For the first block I thought yes, then the second and third blocks were no, but by the path in front of the primary school it was yes again, and by the time I walked in the house I had absolutely no idea.

"I need advice, Dad."

"What about?"

"Harry."

"I see. What sort of advice do you need about Harry?"

"Should I ask him if he likes me as more than a friend? If maybe he'd like to go out with me?"

"Wait, you mean you're not going out already?"

Great, I thought, even my own father thought we were a couple. I should have asked Anne the weekend before, to see if it was unanimous.

"No. Everyone but the two of us seems to think that we are. It's so weird. Other than the fact that he's never kissed me, I guess we do act like a couple, and every time we touch I get this kind of rush, but... Dad, should I bring it up?"

He considered the situation for a moment. That's one of the best things about Dad. He takes my stuff seriously. A lot of parents just write their kids' troubles off as a stage, or foolish, but not Dad. He understands that this stuff is actually important to me.

"You really like him, don't you?"

"I think I might love him, in some way. Definitely as a friend, maybe as more."

"And it's obvious that he cares about you. A lot."

"Yeah."

"I'm guessing you don't want to lose that friendship if you speak up and he shoots you down."

"Yeah."

"Well, I can't believe I'm going to say this to my sixteen year old daughter, but maybe you shouldn't ask. Maybe you should show him that you like him as more than a friend. A girl can go for the first kiss. Your mom kissed me first."

"But what if he turns it down? I'm right back in the weird place... Dad, does it get any easier?"

"Nope. Never. Look, Olivia, I'm not giving you much help, and I think that's because you need to sort this out on your own. Whatever happens, I'm here, ready to catch smiles or tears, ok?"

I love my dad so damn much.

"Thanks, Dad. You're really good at this."

~

I was quiet as we walked up the farm lane in the early March sunshine; it was a particularly warm and dry day for that time of year. Harry carried a backpack filled with the food and drinks, and I had a rolled up old quilt to use as our picnic blanket. I could feel spring straining to burst through the ground and out of the trees.

His spot was ideal for a picnic. We lay the quilt in the sun between the big tree and the river and Harry put the drinks in the water to cool off.

"There's no bridge right here, but we could play Pooh Sticks."