Smoke. //Harry Styles//

Chapter:??? Oh, Louis.

It only take two seconds to fall in love.

Guys, that's a literal fact! Holy shit. That actually makes this fiction sound a lot more real, and slightly less rushed? Idk, and I don't really care, but I think that that is just... Amazing. Our minds can know if we love someone in two seconds. Anyways, here's another chapter! ENJOY!

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It's been a week since I moved out of my parents home, and it's a luxury I can afford. The shutters across my new bedroom are closed tight, and although it's around ten in the morning, my room stays pitch black. A buzz from the nighstand makes me jump slightly, and my hands blindly search for the phone, once I grasp it I switch the notch on my lamp. The light floods the room, but I'm too busy answering the phone to shudder and squint.

"Hello?" I practically rasp into the phone, running my hands tiredly over my eyes.

"Morning, Chandler." A familiar british voice seethes. I grin through my tired state, grasping the covers in my hand as I sit up to rest against the bed post.

"Harry," I coo, letting my head fall back against the post. I hear him chuckle deeply from the end of the line, and rustling following.

"I'm in town, wanted to know if you wanted to join me?" He questions, and I can sense some of his nervousness through the phone.

"Harry Styles, are you nervous?" I giggle and tease, pushing myself up off the bed. He scoffs playfully.

"Maybe. I'll come to you then, yeah?" He questions, this time with confidence. I shrug to myself, pulling on a pair of pants at random.

"Yeah, sounds good." I yawn, jumping across my room, pants pulled up only half way to recieve my sweater. "How long until you're here?" I question, reaalizing my state.

"Fifteen, twenty tops."  Shit, tell him he can't come. He can't see you like this, Chandler.

"Sounds great!" I exclaim, almost falling as I continue to hop around. I end the call, pulling my pants all the way up. Fifteen minutes to get myself ready. I can do this.

I run to the bathroom, pulling my left arm all the way through the sweater. I pull out my make-up, hurriedly applying my blush and bronzer. The powder chokes me slightly as I accidently inhale it, but I don't have time for water. Harry is coming soon, the little shit.

Next is eye-liner. I think, to myself, as I pull out the liquid, leveling myself so I can apply it evenly. I'm quick to grab the black mascara, seeing as I've wasted a good seven minutes. I brush my teeth, the thick paste instantly making me feel cleaner. I brush my tongue thoroughly before moving on to mouth wash. As I swish and swash, I turn on the straightner. I have five minutes by now, and I rinse my mouth with water.

There's a knock to my door, and I look at the clock. I'm supposed to still have five minutes, at  least. I pull my hair up before jogging down the steps, swinging the door open.

"Harry," I breathe out, rolling my eyes on the inside. Now I look like shit in front of the hottest guy I've ever met. He wears plaid today, a matching bandana holding back his curly hair. My hands are aching to brush through them, but I resist. He's texted me everyday, called me too. He's so sweet. But, he only wants to be friends.

Friends. Never has the word sounded so gross. His dimples sink slowly into his cheeks as he smiles, and I move to the side, inviting him in. 

"So, what are you doing on this side of London?" I ask him, closing my door. He shrugs, falling down onto my black, leather couch.

"I had some work close by, thought I'd drop by to see you." He mumbles. He sounds tired, and dazed. His voice lacks emotion, and I raise my eyebrows, walking into my kitchen. I've grown to honestly love this black and white color scheme.