Bisexual in Manhattan (boyxboy & lesbian stories)

one | bed with the view

Let's get one thing straight. I've been in love with Harry Styles ever since our first encounter, freshman year of college. Something about his coppery curls, his enchanting green eyes, his always so swollen and plump lips, and his low raspy voice drew me in; and the rest is history. I just haven't told him yet. And it's not like I want feel these feelings, but once you fall in love with Harry Styles, you can't exactly fall out of love with him. You're stuck. Hell, an entire album of songs could be written, just trying to get over him.

With all of that said, right now I'd love nothing more than to bash his head against the wall of our new apartment.

"You know that I can't sleep when I'm hot," Harry pleads his case to me. We're currently fighting over who should get the bed next to the window. A fight he isn't going to win.

"I never should have spoiled you all four years of college. I was trying to be a nice person and accommodate your weird sleeping habits, but enough is enough," I argue back as I take a handful of socks from my duffle bag and throw them into the top drawer of my dresser. I'm feeling extra feisty today because I watched two episodes of the Bad Girls Club on my train ride over from Connecticut. "You're not sleeping next to the window for the fifth year in a row."

I then roll my eyes as I watch my twenty-two year old best friend stomp around the room like a little boy. "Please, Louis," he whines like a brat, purposely dragging out his words. He knows that I'm weak and he knows exactly what he's doing. "I'll do your laundry all year. Whenever I do mine, I'll throw yours in with them."

As much as I'd love to flat out say no, this sounds like an offer I'd accept. As it turns out, I'll wear a shirt twice before even thinking about taking my hamper down to the laundry room. Relax, I'm not a dirtbag or anything like that. I make sure to spray it with cologne first.

"How about you do my laundry for a year, and make my bed every morning," I offer, entertaining the idea. I love watching him squirm. He's had so much power over me for the longest time, so it's only normal that I enjoy the moments when the roles are reversed.

"Oh, and I'd like a foot massage tonight," I throw in for good measure.

I can't help but laugh as I watch Harry's jaw unhinge and he shakes his curls in disapproval. "Louis, you can't be serious."

"Why can't I be?" I throw back at him, smirking. "Be a doll and pass me that box over in the corner, would you?"

He bites down onto his bottom lip, contemplating the arrangement. Then, he cocks a sheepish grin just before bending over to pick up my box. He has no ass, but it's still cute to look at.

"Ya know, Ariana has a fear of sleeping next to a window. I could just ask her to move into this room instead," he pushes the cardboard box into my chest, hard, and my eyes bulge from my head. "Gee, you and Shay sharing a room together?" he rubs salt into my wound. "I can already see you guys having your own episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive."

I want to throw a punch at him for disrespecting me, but then I remember that I'm not living in the Bad Girls Club house, and that I am Louis Tomlinson; class, sassy, and never trashy. I calm myself, and let what he said sink in. Even the smallest thought of not sharing a room with Harry is enough to scare me. How else would I be able to watch him sleep and take quick peeks at him after he showers? Don't you dare even judge me on that. I'd love to see how you'd act sharing a bedroom with your secret crush. Mhm, exactly.

"Okay, fine," I cave. "Doing my laundry for a year will suffice." I'd give up the opportunity to have a bedside view of the city a hundred times before losing Harry Styles.