Red [h. styles]

Six

6

Jena opened her eyes wearily, blinking the last traces of sleep from them.

Harry was studying her, and didn't seem to mind that she realized it. "What're you looking at?" Jena mumbled, and Harry smiled at her morning voice.

"I'm counting your freckles."

"No," Jena protested, "people count stars, not freckles."

"Then I'll count the freckles on your body like one would the stars." Harry said, not missing a beat.

Jena rolled her eyes, secretly pleased.

"Go out with me," Harry asked, and Jena stared at him, a lip curled in confusion.

"You want to go out with me. Like, on a date." She stated, and Harry smiled nervously.

"Yes."

"Why?" Jena asked, nose wrinkling.

"You're beautiful." Harry said without hesitation.

"Two things," Jena said after a moment. "Number one: I'm not the type of girl people like for their face. If anything, they only like the way my hips move. Number two: don't call me beautiful, or perfect. Call me alluring, or breath-taking; something that lets me know that you've been thinking about me."

"You floor me, Jenavieve Townes, I am completely astounded by you. You possess a casual grace few others could hope to achieve, and the light in your eyes makes me feel whole." Harry said, sitting up in bed and grabbing her hands.

"Okay," Jena admitted, "that was pretty damn poetic."

"I do write songs for a living," Harry teased, and Jena's smile slowly fell from her face. She extracted her hands from Harry's, twisting them around in her lap.

"Look, Harry, I—"

"Jen," Harry stopped her, "give me 24 hours. 24 hours to convince you this would be a good idea."

"Fine," Jena said softly, "but don't get your hopes up."

Jena wasn't the type of person who dated, she usually stayed in her lane, leaving strings of one night stands in her wake. But the look of desperation in his eyes stopped her from refusing him outright. Jena was a people pleaser, only saying no when completely necessary. So Jena was getting dressed, feeling Harry's eyes on her, knowing she was in for a long 24 hours.

"Eggs Benedict?" Harry offered, holding out the plate to her.

"Gladly," Jena said, taking it from him. She never said no to food, especially not when it smelled so good.

"You ever seen a Broadway show?" Harry asked, and Jena's turned towards him abruptly.

"No, why?"

"Because we're going to see Hamilton tonight." He beamed at her, and Jena gasped.

"Oh my god! Harry! No one can get tickets to that show! How did you accomplish that?" She exclaimed, eyes as wide as saucers.

"I saw Hamilton with the boys a while back, and figured you'd enjoy it. When you called saying you were moving to New York, I bought tickets." Harry said, reveling in the look she was giving him.

"How did you know I'd be here tonight?" She asked incredulously.

"About that," he said sheepishly, "I wasn't sure when you'd get up here. So I bought tickets for the month."

"The month?!" Jena screamed, mouth dropping open. "That's so incredibly expensive!"

Harry shrugged. "It was all worth it for the look on your face."

"You're ridiculous!" Jena shook her head, laughing. "What are you doing with all the tickets you don't use?"

"I've been giving them away to people who may not have the opportunity to see it otherwise." He grinned at her, and she stared back at him with what could only be described as reverence.

"You are a beautiful human being." She whispered.

"I try my best," he mirrored her tone, more air than sound coming from his lips.

"How much time do we have to kill?" Jena broke the silence, staring down at her manicured nails.

"About five hours." Came the clipped reply.

"Great!" Jena said, standing and heading towards to door. "Let's go bowling."

"Bowling? Seriously?" Harry asked cynically.

"What the fuck is wrong with bowling?" She rounded on him, and he threw up his hands in surrender.

"I'll get my keys."