Harry Styles Imagines Book 2

quarantine confessions

Quarantine was slowly draining the life out of you; all your classes moved to online, which meant that your professors added on more work with the assumption that you had more time on your hands, which may have been true, if you weren’t now drowning in work and still working, since in NYC, for whatever reason, being a hostess meant being essential. You were at the restaurant 5 nights a week, taking orders and sending out deliveries and trying to keep up with your essays–while also attempting to take care of yourself and do adult things like do your laundry and go grocery shopping.

The worst part was that you were alone. Your roommate decided to head back home for quarantine, which left you alone with no one to talk to you for a majority of the day. You seriously regretted turning down Harry’s offer to stay with you when everything had started, but he had a lot going on with the tour being up in the air, press appearances getting canceled and rescheduled. You knew he needed to be with his team and told him that, so instead, he asked you to go to L.A with him, but you turned that down too. You still had classes on zoom and due dates that the time difference would confuse. Plus, you needed to keep your job in order to pay your rent and it didn’t make sense for you to continue to pay a few months rent when you weren’t even living there.

Since the quarantine started, you and Harry had a standing phone date every friday–even though you weren’t actually dating. You had been friends for three years and were always flirty with one another but nothing had ever really happened. Well, something did happen. About a week before everything started, he came to visit you in New York and you guys had a night in, with chinese takeout and hours of your favorite rom-coms–and he kissed you. Granted, you guys were two bottles of wine in, but he kissed you. He kissed you more than once and didn’t apologize for it that night or the next day.

He also hadn’t talked about it or even referenced it when you spoke on the phone. You had made the assumption that he wanted to forget about it and move on with your friendship, so you didn’t bring it up but lately he had been kind of distant. He missed the last two weeks of phone calls and wasn’t really answering your texts, nor did he seem very interested in talking to you when he did answer.

You checked the clock on your computer and saw that it was way past eleven, meaning another week without a call. The past two weeks, you had texted him about half an hour before, like you usually did, to make sure the time was okay and he wasn’t in the middle of a meeting or doing something with the friends he was with. When he didn’t answer, you texted him again about an hour later to see what he was up to, but he didn’t answer those either and instead, texted you the next day and apologized but didn’t tell you why he missed the call.

This week, you had decided that you weren’t going to text him or call him. If he wanted to talk to you, he could make the effort. You had been trying to make some headway on an essay you had to write but had only written one measly paragraph in the past three hours because you couldn’t focus. Your eyes would drift to the time on your laptop and then your hand would move to your phone, desperately wanting to text him but you wouldn’t let yourself. You were growing more and more frustrated with him. You wanted to talk about the kiss, but were afraid to bring it up. After all, he was the one who kissed you, so if anything, it was his responsibility to bring it up.

After picking up your phone for what felt like the millionth time, you finally caved and sent him a snapchat asking him to save you from your homework. He answered ten minutes later with a picture of the ceiling.

You were frustrated and could feel the tears well in your eyes. He fucking ruined it. The friendship that the two of you had was amazing–you were there with him through his bad breakup, you were there when he wrote Fine Line, and he was there for you when you had a breakdown and cut your own bangs, and he was there when you had writer’s block at three a.m and needed advice.