Unlikely (H.S.)

three

~Harper~

Well if that isn't the coolest thing ever, I don't know what is. I stare blankly at Amalia's phone, seeing as clear as day that the Harry Styles has made a story about me. Me... Sure, he doesn't mention me by name or anything, but it's obviously me. You can see my handle in the post, he clearly made no effort to conceal my identity. But, I can't help but wonder, why me? How did he find me? What was he possibly doing on Instagram to have come across my page? Does he make it a habit to look up random baking videos? I really doubt that Harry Styles bakes now that he's a global popstar. I mean, he probably has some fancy Italian chef that lives with him and bakes and cooks him fabulous dishes and desserts for every meal.

"I think you DM him," Amalia proposes as she breaks me from my thoughts to look at her.

"I am not DMing him, are you crazy? He deleted the story after like a minute. It obviously was an accident and not something he wanted people to see," I reply.

Buzz.

"Girl, did you notice how much time he spent on making that post? The screenshot, the emojis, the captions in different spots at different angles. Mans has made an effort," Amalia continued on.

"I'm with Amal, Harps. Dudes rarely post shit like that unless they're pussy whipped. Ask Hunter, he'll say the same," pipes in Nate.

"Yeah," Daphne interjects while looking at her own phone, as Amalia had sent us all the screenshot, "he took his time, Harps, and like Nate said, he's just a dude,"

Buzz.

"Just a dude?! Are you insane?! He's not just a dude! He's Harry fucking Styles! He's got the hots for you and now the ball is in your court!" Amalia adds, frantically nodding her head.

"Amalia has a point. He obviously wants in your pants and that was his way of getting your attention, and I am so very supportive of this happening! Get that thicccccc British dick, girl!" Daphne encourages, as Amalia and Nate cackle at her bluntness.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Daph." I cover my face with my hands, feeling a flushed blush beginning to spread through my face.

I mean, I know who Harry is. The entire world does, at this point. But like, there is no way that what Daphne is saying is true. He can't want into my pants. I'm nothing special. He has talent, adoring fans, fame, wealth, and I'm just nothing. "As much as I appreciate your words of encouragement, you're all getting ahead of yourselves. This could all just be a legitimate misunderstanding."

Buzz.

"What the fuck do you even mean, Harper? A misunderstanding? That's fucking bullshit and you know it," Amalia spat back at me.

"I mean, he could just be talking about the recipe. Or, he could be mocking me or making fun of me or something, for all we know," I suggested.

"Oh give me a fucking break, Harper Jenkins. Just because your fucking asshole of an ex-boyfriend shit on you for making videos, it doesn't mean that everyone is going to do the same," remarked Daphne, "believe in yourself a little, girlie. You are fucking great at creating content. Don't just jump to the conclusion that he's mocking you, okay?"

"Shut the fuck up! Girl you're on TMZ!" Amalia is again, waving her phone at us.

"I'm sorry what? TMZ!? Fuck me."

"Oop, now you're on ENews! And Harryflorals just posted you! Harperhangs is famous now!"

Buzz.