Love in Photographs

25. It's Ridiculous, Really

September 12, 2015

Since we'd been back in LA, Harry and I didn't get to spend too much time together. He had business stuff to do 24/7, and I had to do my job, too. I had slacked off a bit, so I was up to my elbows in unedited photos. I'd given myself a headache staring at the computer screen for hours upon hours, adjusting lighting, white balances, doing minor cosmetic adjustments.

I went out with Grace and Sophia a couple of days after Harry's birthday gift extravaganza. We rode in my Camaro around LA, with the windows down and the radio blaring. It was a cathartic release, to be able to just drive and feel the wind blowing through your hair. Both Grace and Sophia couldn't shut up about the car, or the necklace, or any of the other gifts Harry had got me. Grace particularly loved the Stevie necklace.

I was finally feeling better, and mother nature had left from her extended and frankly unwelcome stay. I had nothing to do today since I'd finished my editing, so I was hanging out at Harry's house all day while he roamed around and did his duty as popstar Harry. I did some light cleaning and did a load of laundry. Most of Harry's clothes he wore for "work" would go back to his stylist, so there wasn't much to wash except for the plethora of black skinny jeans and old band t-shirts.

He got home around 7:30 that evening, bringing home our favorite Thai food from one of his favorite restaurants. I was upstairs when I heard the door open and shut.

"Rhi?" He called out, shutting the door behind him.

"I'm upstairs," I yell down at him. "I'll be down in a second."

I finish putting away his jeans for him and make my way down the staircase.

He stares at me, not saying a word. I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Comfy, are we?" He smirks, his eyes traveling up and down my body.

"What?" I ask, confused, then look down to assess my outfit.

Crap.

I'd forgotten I'd put on a pair of old yoga shorts and one of his t-shirts to lounge around in. The t-shirt was huge on me, covering even the shorts, which were very short.

"Oh," I blanch, face turning red. "I was just doing some laundry and stuff. This is my comfy clothes."

"Including my t-shirt?" He smirks. I roll my eyes.

"It's the comfiest. And it smells like you," I admit.

"Like a sweaty 22 year old man?" He laughs.

"That's my secret fetish..." I joke.

"I had no idea..." He plays along, widening his eyes with fake horror.

I laugh loudly.

He makes his way over to me, kissing me on my forehead briefly before walking into the kitchen, setting the food on the counter.

"So, I suppose you're feeling better?" He asks.

"Much," I answer him, grabbing a couple bottles of water from the fridge. "Mother nature has packed her bags and left... for now."

He chuckles, getting the food out of the containers, handing me a pair of chopsticks.

"I'm glad to hear it," He says, stuffing his mouth full of food. "I hate it when you're sick."

"I'm not the only female suffering." I laugh.

"You have it a bit worse off than most, though," He says, and I silently agree. "It's far from fair."