Colorblind [h.s]

31

Harry's POV

August 12th, 2018

"You didn't have to do that, you know," Violet says as I lead her out of the restaurant.

I tug her hand and pull her forward to walk next to me, draping my arm over her shoulder as she snakes her arm around my waist.

"What kinda best friend would I be if I made the birthday girl pay for her own birthday dinner?" I ask, craning my head down to look at her.

She's looking up at me through her dark lashes, an infectious grin plastered across her face that makes me grin too.

"A shitty one."

"Exactly," I say, planting a kiss on the top of her head. "So shut up about it now."

"Fine, fine." She shakes her head. "But I'm paying for your next birthday dinner."

"Well I'd hope so. You still have to make up for my last birthday- don't think I've forgotten about it just yet," I smirk.

"Harry," she whines, making my heart skip a beat.

I fucking love the way she says my name.

"I've apologized for that like a million times! What more do you want from me?"

I look down at her to see her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her lips pulled into a pout as she tries to fight a smile. She looks adorable.

"Relax, Ivy, I'm only kidding," I laugh, recalling the night in question.

She surprised me at Oxford on my 19th birthday, and had somehow arranged a huge surprise party for me. All of my friends were in on it, and how she even got their numbers to plan it with them is still a mystery to me, since that was the first time she was allowed to visit me.

She always finds a way to make me feel special.

Long story short, she made a bet with herself that she could outdrink me, knowing fully well that she's never been able to- let alone on my birthday, and I spent the majority of my night looking after her while she spilled her guts in my dorm bathroom. Not ideal, but still not the worst birthday I've ever had. I was just happy to spend it with her.

"Just yankin' my chain, huh?" She grins, looking up at me as we approach my car.

I scrunch up my nose in disgust. "Yankin your chain? What are you, 80?" I laugh, pulling my keys out of my pocket to unlock the car.

"Maybe it's just an American term that you wouldn't know since you're British ," She says, imitating my thick accent. She pushes me away from her and walks to the passenger side door.

I snort. "You're stupid."

"You're stupider," she says after she slides into the seat.

I put the keys in the ignition and start the car, buckling myself in before pulling away from the curb. "That's not even a word."

"Says who?" She crosses her arms and looks over at me, her brows raised expectantly.

"Says everyone," I say, stepping on the gas pedal a little harder to pass the car in front of mine that's going 30 in a 50.

"Whatever," she huffs, leaning forward to turn the radio on.

I can practically hear her roll her eyes.

We drive in silence for a moment as she flips through the stations, trying to find one she wants to listen to. She finally settles on the classic rock station, nodding her head and drumming her fingers on her knees to the beat of You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi. I know she wants to sing along, and she usually does, but she stays silent.