“So, this gallery thing on Friday? Is it casual or pretty…high class?” I ask, plucking a piece of pineapple off my plate.
“It’s uh…it’s pretty nice,” Harry nods, wiping his hands with a napkin and leaning back in his chair.
“Should I wear a skirt or a dress or something?” I wonder aloud.
“You want to go?” he looks over at me.
“Am I invited?” I bite my lip.
“Uh, y-yeah, of course,” Harry stutters quickly and I smile.
“Did you think I wouldn’t come to see the final product?” I gesture to his drawing across the room and he shrugs. “Plus I’m an art student. Any gallery sounds like a good time to me,” I explain.
“Well, then I better get working,” Harry says, standing up. He takes our empty plates over to the sink and rinses them briefly before stuffing them in the dishwasher.
20 minutes later, I’m sitting against the wall, holding my Nikon camera in my lap, and I’m watching Harry add to his work.
“So, have you chosen a story yet?” I ask, raising the viewfinder to my eye.
“A story for what?” Harry questions, his tongue poking out in concentration, and I snap yet another photo.
“For your girl,” I say.
“Hm, my girl,” he narrows his eyes, still not straying from his drawing. “I don’t think she’s my girl. She’s not my type,” he adds.
“Oh?”
“I mean, I’d totally date a girl who painted her nails, naked at the kitchen table, but I think this girl isn’t someone who would catch my attention,” Harry tells me.
“Why’s that?” I press, snapping another picture of Harry digging for a new pencil. He finds the one he wants then looks up at his drawing for a moment.
“Because she’s in love with someone else…and it’s obvious,” he shrugs.
“Where is the guy?” I wonder. There is a long pause as Harry starts shading his drawing again.
“He’s out,” he finally says. “Clubbing with the boys as he’s been doing the past few weekends. But this time, he didn’t come home in the morning,”
“How come?” I ask, pulling my neglected Polaroid camera closer to me.
“Don’t know,” Harry shrugs, grabbing his eraser. “So she’s patiently waiting for a phone call or something, trying not to think of the worst that could happen,” he explains.
“And so she paints her nails,” I add, raising the instant-film camera to my face.
“I guess so,” Harry sighs then he starts chuckling and I smile, snapping a photo and grabbing the photo that prints out.
“What did you change?” I ask, scooting forward and spinning around so I can see the canvas.
“This part in her mouth right here,” he points. “And I changed this foot as well as making the chair and her hair darker,”
“It’s looking much better,” I assure him, waving the Polaroid gently in my hand. “You changed her mouth and her foot because of the story, right?”
Harry nods. “I got a bit into it, I guess,”
“That’s good. I can connect with the piece a bit more now that she’s showing some stronger emotions,” I explain, looking down at the photo I took. Harry leans forward, shading a bit of the hair, and it’s quiet other than the music playing.
“Should I be afraid of all these pictures you’re taking of me?” he asks after a couple minutes.
“No, you can look if you want,” I say, fiddling with my Nikon camera.
“I’d love to,” Harry tells me, glancing over his shoulder at me briefly. “Let me just finish this up for the night then I’ll wash my hands and take a look,”
I get up and walk over to Harry’s couch, settling down on it. Harry messes around with his drawing then he finally tucks his materials back into the box and moves it against the wall. He walks into the kitchen and washes his hands for a good minute before drying them on a towel. I watch Harry come over to me, sitting beside me on the couch. I can’t help but notice how close he is. I hand him my camera and he flicks it on, navigating the controls quite easily. I watch as he starts looking through the photos, the light from the screen making him squint his eyes a little.
“These are really good,” he tells me.
I whisper a thank you and Harry keeps flipping through the pictures. Once he’s gotten through them all, he starts going again, but quicker.
“I like this one,” Harry tells me, holding the camera out for me to see. It’s one of the more recent photos I took of him, concentrating on his drawing.
“Me too,” I fight a smile.
“So,” he puts my camera on picture mode and holds it up to me. I blush and smile and he snaps a picture. “Hm, I was expecting a fight,”
“Not all photographers hate being in front of the lens,” I point out.
“Good, it’s better that way,” Harry smiles, taking another picture of me. I bite my lip and look away, not used to the attention. “You got a curfew or anything?” he asks, putting my camera on the coffee table. I shake my head and Harry checks his watch. I glance at the clock on the DVD player under the television and see that it’s nearing 9:30.
“Wanna watch a movie or something?” Harry suggests. “I mean, unless you have an early class, we don’t have to-“
“A movie sounds good,” I cut him off. He nods and gets off the couch, going over to his DVD collection.
“What do you like? I have Rom-Coms, horror, action…” Harry starts pulling some choices out.
“Hmm, I could go for a scary movie,” I tell him. I’m not in the mood for something cute.
“Classic first date choice,” he nods, smiling, while scanning his collection and my mind begins to wander. Is this a date? Does he think this is a date? Are we even on the same page? What page am I even on? Of course I like him. But what if he just sees me as help for his drawings? I don’t even know for sure if he’s single. “I’ve got Jaws. Have you seen that one?”
“I surprisingly haven’t,” I say, forgetting my thoughts.
“Jaws it is,” Harry puts the DVD in the player and grabs the remote then comes to sit beside me again.
YOU ARE READING
The Story // Harry Styles AU
RomanceHarry Styles, an aspiring artist, seeks the help of fellow classmate and local Starbucks bus-girl, Poppy Robinson, to better his drawings and become close to her along the way.