The Choreographer

20: Ben

I am in a bad mood. I woke up with a headache, and Daisy got played by some guy, again. Harry called me twice and I presses ignore, sending him to voicemail. Our interview is in the magazines now and I'm bothered by the amount of people who decided to comment on my clothes/face/personality. I blast Wasting All These Tears by Cassadee Pope. I sing along, loudly while I take a shower. I jump when I hear a knock on the bathroom door. I hear Harry. "I wants to make sure you weren't dead." I wonder how loud he's screaming, to be heard over my music.

I reach out a pause my song. "I'm not dead. You can leave." I tell him.

"Not nice. Rephrase and redirect." He tells me.

"I am currently able to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide, my blood circulating muscle is still functioning properly. You may use your limbs to carry you out of my apartment." I tell him.

"Funny." He says dryly. I hear him moving around, then the door handle jiggling. He successfully opens my locked door.

"Why are you here?" I shout over the water pouring over my head.

"Because when you don't answer my calls it's because you're depressed."

"I'm not depressed." I say defensively.

"Tell me the truth." He argues. He is most likely sitting on my sink. I shampoo my hair.

"I'm feeling..." I pause. "Go away." I say, annoyed that he's right.

"I can't, I love you, remember?" He asks.

"Right, how could I forget." I say.

"Don't be so excited."

"I'm not." I tell him smiling, less irritated and stressed. I use my pouf to wash myself while letting my conditioner sit in my hair.

"Keep singing." Harry tells me, and I hear the laughter in his voice. He puts my song back on.

The next song to flip on is Halo by Beyoncé and I sing along with it as I wash my face.

I turn off the shower. "Get out." I tell Harry.

"My eyes are closed." He assures me. I peek out and see both of his hands over his eyes. I roll my eyes reaching my hand out a grabbing my towel. I wrap myself in the towel before stepping out from behind my shower curtain. Henry still has both of his hands over his eyes. I stand on my tip toes and kiss him while, like I thought, he sits in my sink. He smiles. "I contemplated peeking." He confesses.

"I knew you would." I tell him.

"Sorry." He pretends to be ashamed.

"Forgiven." I tell him, my mood drastically increased.

"Let's watch a movie." He tells me, uncovering his eyes.

"What movie?" I ask.

"You have nice legs." He tells me suddenly, looking at the space my towel doesn't cover.

I shut my bedroom door on him after rolling my eyes. I pull on boyfriend sweatpants and a tank top. I open the door, Harry is on his phone he looks up at me. "Let's watch Tangled." I tell him.

"No, your obsession with Flynn Rider is unhealthy."

"Eugene Fitzherbert." I correct.

"Exactly." Harry tells me. I sigh. Harry walks over, pressing his lips to mine. I close my eyes, and he brings his hands to my wet hair. "We can watch Tangled." He relents when he pulls away. I smile up at him, then bound away to find my favorite movie.

I hear the microwave going as Harry pops popped corn. I get the movie started, then pause it to wait for Harry.

"Hello mum." I hear Harry saying from the kitchen. "At Isabel's." A pause. "I can call you later?" He asks. "Great, love you, bye." He tells his mom. I wrap myself in a blanket and wait for Harry. He walks in moments later. He looks at me and then smiles. "You look like a burrito."