PASSERBY, harry styles

xiv. rest is still unwritten

real life!

One thing I've learned is the art of avoidance. It's only real if you make it real.

That kiss? Not real.

That photo? Not real.

Olivia Wilde? Not real.

That plot Wes made to take him to my reunion? Not real.

All that's real is me and Harry. Well, us and the seven other people in the room considering Harry's band is here and I dragged Mar and Angie to the studio. It's supposed to be us three working with him, but you've never even seen the studio, I'd said. Harry'd seemed shocked to see them, but I'm thinking we had the same idea—we needed buffers—because he sucked it up with the snap of a finger.

"He's so much hotter than he was at the Brits," Mar whispers to us, eyes set on Harry. "I didn't know it was possible."

"Mar!" Angie smacks her. She'd made us swear to ignore him while we were at the studio today, which I'd said was almost impossible, especially since it's his studio, but she'd begged and pouted until I—reluctantly—gave in. "We hate him right now, remember?"

Maybe I should've brought Wes. The man knows virtually nothing about music, but at least he wouldn't be gushing about how hot Harry Styles is. I know that part already. What I want is for them to take my mind off how hot he is and how good he looks in that button-down shirt and talk to me about the music and how annoying having so many people in the studio at once is. I didn't think I was asking for too much, but Mar and Angie are living, breathing proof that, apparently, I was.

        "Just help me finish this song," I interrupt.

        Mar points to the blank sheet of paper in front of us. "Right. The song. Of course. We are clearly hard at work."

        "I've been trying. You both have been staring at Harry for the past ten minutes. At this rate he'll be filing a report."

        "Oh, I'm flattered, Vi." Mar smiles. "You think we're worth a report?"

        "Angie, can you hit her again?"

        Mar grabs Angie's hand mid-flight. "Vi, all I'm saying is . . . have you seen him?"

        I laugh. "I've seen him all right."

        Angie gasps. "You guys . . . you guys . . ."

        "Angie, do you really think they did that and Kavi didn't come to us screaming bloody murder?"

        "First of all," I scramble, "I wouldn't come to you screaming. I'd be a bit paralysed for a few hours, wouldn't I?"

       "Paralysed?" a new voice speaks. "From?"

        Oh, God.

I look up from the sheet of paper to see Harry standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets and a slightly aloof grin on his face.

        "Hey, Harry," I rush out, cringing at what he might've heard. "When'd you get here?"

        "We got here at the same time?"

        This guy.

        "I mean, like, in front of me?"

"Oh. Just now. I was hoping to show you guys something we cooked up over there."

        "We are very, very interested," Mar announces.

Angie rolls her eyes, lazily moving her head to peer at Harry. "Is it lyrics?"