HARRY STYLES
"I think track four needs to be track six, and six needs to be eight," I scooted in closer to the Mac desktop computer.
"No, no, no," Jesse shook his head. "Track six needs to be seven and seven needs to be eight."
"Mate, you're on fucking drugs," I laughed. "Seven is fine right where it is, don't touch it."
"Let's just play it again," Jeff suggested.
"Again?" Victoria gave us all a small pout of disappointment. "I don't know how many more times I can listen to myself in a row like this."
"Just play it through," Jeff persisted, and Max told me that my girlfriend was calling me as he picked my phone up from the couch.
"Yeah, go take the call from your girlfriend, H," Jesse smirked.
I coughed a laugh, shaking my head at him as I accepted my phone from Max. "Don't fucking touch the track list until I get back, I know what I'm talking about."
Heading up to the roof, I swiped my thumb across the screen to quickly answer Cam's call before it could get sent to my voicemail, and I was surprised that she was calling me so late. We hadn't had a chance to talk all day, and it was now 2 AM in London.
"Hey you," I pushed through the rooftop door. "What are you doing up so late? Thought you already went to bed?"
"Sorry, did I–am I interrupting you?"
"No, no. I mean, I'm at the studio but we're just fucking around with the track list. Album's done, so that's exciting."
"Oh, that's great."
At the sound of her less than excited tone, I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder as I slowly retrieved my cigarettes and lighter from my back pocket. "Everything okay? You sound a little down."
She hummed a laugh with no humor, and I could picture her running her hand across her forehead the way she does when she's stressed out. "There's just something that I need to talk to you about."
Naturally, I felt a wave of premature disappointment wash over me. Did she already decide that she doesn't want to do this with me anymore? For the second time? Did she get wasted and sleep with someone? Did Aiden sneak back into her life and convince her that he could be a better boyfriend than me?
"Okay, what's going on?" I took a heavy pull from my cigarette, leaning against the edge of the roof.
"Um," her exhale wavered, which did nothing to help my pulse calm down. "Jesus Christ, I don't even know how–I'm just–"
When I actually heard her swallow through the phone, my thoughts only started to race faster. Even when she dumped me she didn't seem this nervous or frazzled. "What's wrong?"
She cleared her throat, as if she were trying to gather herself. "I need you to tell me you're not going to get mad, alright? I need you to not be mad at me for this."
"Uh," I breathed a humorless laugh for myself. "I'd like to promise that I won't be mad, but I have no idea what you're about to say to me."
"I'm pregnant, Harry."
The second my ears heard the word, my cigarette seemed to launch itself from between my fingers, right down to the sidewalk below. I cursed and leaned over the edge to make sure I didn't just set someone on fire, or at the very least give them a burn, but the pavement was vacant.
"What did you just say?"
"You heard what I fucking said," she snapped out of nowhere, forcing my eyes to widen as I shook my head.
