FINLEY, harry styles

FIVE

"TIM, IT'S NOT LIKE THAT." Finley laughed, ducking to hide the blush that had spread across her cheeks as she sat across from him at the little cafe he had picked for lunch that day. He knew she'd like the plants that sat on every ledge available (and had only laughed when she turned to him with wide doe eyes and a grin on her lips as she pointed to them excitedly). So, she sat with the breakfast burrito that seemed to be their bestseller (and she could tell why!) in front of her as Timothee questioned her mercilessly about Harry.

"Oh, it's not like that is it." Timothee rolled his eyes, taking a bite from his own burrito with a grin that curled around his mouthful. "You have spent every spare second you've had with him for the past how many days."

When he'd asked of what she'd been doing since he had last seen her, every small detail ended with a 'with Harry.' And when he said small details, he meant small details. Finley Lioni could win an Oscar and instead would tell everyone about the baby that had waved hi to her from their pram that morning . And she had. Sue her, she liked the little things in life.

"I have not." She laugh, smacking his arm that leant on the table. "He stayed at mine after the wrap party, and we went for coffee. That's it!"

"And you went to the florist with him!"

"And that. But then that's it." She laughed lightly, taking a bite of her burrito, dropping it back to her plate with an eye roll as he wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

"Finley Lioni and Harry Styles." He hummed, a soft smile of his lips that lilted that teasing smirk he'd had since Harry had been brought up. "The fans are going to love me for this."

"For this?"

"Setting you up!"

"Tim, you have not set us up." She laughed, almost disbelievingly at how confident he seemed on the matter.

"Oh, please. I saw you two whispering to each other at karaoke-."

"We were talking!"

"- staring at each other with those lovesick smiles-."

"I was happy!"

"- and those doe eyes-."

"My eyes just look like that."

The two caught each others eyes, tumbling into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. It was funny, really, Timothee thought. Finley Lioni, before he had met her, was scary. She had to have been (he had justified to himself on the way to his first meeting for the film), she was twenty three and already one of the most widely credited directors of her generation. There had to be something about her, that screamed confidence or arrogance like it did with many others their age in the industry. She had to be stuck up, a silver spoon lilting from her lips to justify her position. So, imagine his surprise when he entered the meeting room and Finley offered him a coffee (that she had bought for everyone in the room) with that sunshine smile that seemed eternally placed on her lips and a hug that she seemed to melt into - an oversized jumper shrouding her figure that she seemed shrink into as she stood before them. Finley Lioni was talented. There was no malice, or arrogance or smugness.

He had asked her once, after a long night of shooting . Why do you do it, direct? She had just looked back at him, from where she was gazing up at the stars above them. I want to make films that make people feel better. Less alone. She hummed after a moment of rolling her lips together dubiously.