Buses & Bunk Beds (Zarry)

Chapter 7

I made sure to steer us towards my room instead of Harry's when we got to our floor, figuring Louis was less likely to show up unannounced there. Harry immediately flopped down on my bed, and I knew for sure then that I had it bad since I didn't mind even a little that Harry was sweaty and unshowered and taking up most of the space on the duvet and what seemed like all of the space in my heart. In fact I quite liked the sight of him stretched out on his stomach with a pillow under his head, reaching for the remote and making himself at home.

"Movie?"

"Sure," I replied, prying the remote out of his hand. I flipped through the channels until I heard Harry squeal a little when I landed on an episode of Friends (is there ever a time of day when an episode of Friends isn't on?) and so of course I had to leave it on. It was the episode where Rachel finds Chandler handcuffed to her boss' desk and I had already seen it, but it was kind of comforting in a way, knowing what was coming and just being able to sit back and enjoy it with Harry.

We'd hung out alone like this and even watched Friends together countless times before, but it somehow felt different this time. Like we were more together and more removed from the group than before. And while the possibility of getting off with Harry again made my head feel lighter and my skin feel tighter, I was enjoying this just as much. So even though I was half hard thinking about what we'd just done in the gym, I was more than happy to just lie here with him, laughing whenever he laughed and sneaking peeks at his dimples, resisting the urge to poke them since I knew that I wouldn't be able to stop at that one touch.

I forced myself to focus on the right here, right now, to ensure that I didn't miss any moment of whatever it was that was happening between Harry and me. As his whole body started to shake with laughter when Chandler said that people throw garbage at him when he goes outside naked, I felt some of my ever-present anxiety lift off of my chest. I felt like I had more room to breathe; more room for my heart to beat. Harry was and had always been like the sunshine, brightening everyone's day and showing them that they mattered, really mattered, and to feel like I might be even more special than the others that he lavished attention on, like he would want to make my day brighter than everyone else's, was a heady feeling. It pushed a little bit of the darkness inside of me (the thoughts and worries that I would never be good enough or happy enough or just enough) aside.

We watched several more episodes before Harry left to go shower. He didn't kiss me goodbye or anything, just smirked at me as he said, "Don't have too much fun picturing me naked and nice and soapy." He pulled what I suspected was supposed to be a sexy face but made me what to pinch his cheeks more than snog him.

"You're a dirty boy Styles."

"You love it," he called over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

"Yeah," I breathed. "I do."

***

The concert went off without a hitch, though we all had a good laugh at how much Niall stuttered and stammered when he met President Obama after we sang All I Want For Christmas. None of us were really surprised, considering that he had a statue of him in his garden, but it did help to lighten the mood.

Sometimes I couldn't believe the opportunities that I'd had over the last few years. I could never have imagined any of this back in my hand-me-down twin bed in my tiny, rundown house in Bradford, and this new thing with Harry (whatever it was and I really didn't know) just made me more anxious over the fact that I could have missed out on it all. If I hadn't gotten out of bed that morning, if I hadn't gotten three votes to get to boot camp, if I hadn't gotten that second chance. That was just like me, worrying about something that already hadn't happened.