Remember? A Harry Styles Story

Chapter 4

"And this was in Paris, during a tour." I pointed, looking at the boys piled on a couch in a dressing room, they looked sweaty and sleepy. "After this one, we went to Barcelona." We sat together on our bed, rummaging through photo albums. "Barcelona was the first time I completely vomited all over thr ground from drinking so much." I laughed, looking at Harry's dimples.

Harry and I used to print photographs out so that if our digital cameras or phones ever got destroyed, we’d always have our memories. My insides hurt as remembered that Harry didn’t have many memories anymore.

"So then what did you do?" He asked, looking at a picture of us playing chicken in the hotel pool.

I shook my head, "It went downhill from there. I puked, went back to dancing, then we drank some more, puked again, and passed out in our hotel somehow. Don't remember any of it." 

Harry seemed to think the story was hilarious, "When did we stop being a band?" He asked.

"Um," I thought, "In the fall of 2016, the contract that you all signed expired and everyone just kind of decided to call it quits." I explained. It was strange talking about it now because even though everyone remains close, Harry never liked talking about it.

He flipped the page and sighed, “Do we keep in touch?” 

"Yes, you all do. Even your old crew. They pop in for lunch form time to time." I smiled, "Lux loves playing with Phoenix." 

Harry nodded, seeming to be processing the information. “I remember Lux.”

I stared at a photo of Harry and I kissing underneath the Eiffel Tower. It had always been my favorite photo of us and I must have made a dozen copies. 

"This is fun. I really like looking through photos." Harry said quietly, "Can you tell me things that you remember?"

I nodded, “Like, about what specifically?”

He simply shrugged, “Whatever comes to mind. Doesn’t have to be about the band…” He paused, “You can tell me about us, too.”

"I know," I sighed. "It's only difficult because I want to act the way we used to together, but I know it's not the same." Butterflies crept into my stomach. “Anyways…” I racked my brain, looking for something he’d enjoy. “I can tell you about our first big fight.” I laughed, “It was really stupid.”

He nodded and smirked, “Okay, I’m listening.” His hands were very close to mine, causing nervousness to creep back into my body.

"Well," I cleared my throat, "We were kind of dating but not really together. And you told me to come over, so I did. What I didn’t know was that you’d been planning to surprise me with a beautiful dinner and dessert so that we could be an official couple."

Harry stared at me intently, eager for me to continue.

I took a breath and smiled, “When I knocked on the door, you answered and were flustered. You said ‘You’re too damn early, you early little twat, I just wanted a nice dinner, it’s not even done yet, blah blah blah.” I laughed at the memory. “I ended up crying and I waited for dinner to be done and we ate and you apologized profusely.

"Then after that…" I paused, "…we had a good night."

Harry cocked his head to the side, “What?” He raised his eyebrows up, a cheeky grin appearing on his face. "What's that mean?" 

I blushed, remember our first sexual encounter. “We just had a romantic evening, that’s all.” I said, covering my smile with my hand. "I shouldn't be telling you that part." 

He laughed with that wonderful laugh that I missed. “At least I made you dinner first.” He smiled. “Did we do that a lot?”

I opened my mouth, unsure what to say, “You mean did we have sex a lot?”

Harry couldn’t contain his laughter as he nodded. 

My giggles erupted, “Yeah, actually. We did.” I said, causing Harry and I to burst into a laughing fit together. Like old times. "Each time better than the last." 

Harry went from sitting up to laying on his side, laughing. “How many times a week?” He glanced into my eyes with that passionate glare I’d come to know and love.

I pressed my lips together, signaling that I wasn’t going to tell.

"Aw, come on!" He poked my sides. 

My hands brushed his away from my very ticklish spot and I gave in, “Fine, fine!” He stared and awaited his answer. “Nine, on a good week.” My cheeks burned a rosy tone.

"Nine!" He shouted, continuing to laugh and smile with me. "There are seven days in a week!" He rolled over, lying on his stomach. The silence after our fit of laughter was filled with a content, happy feeling. "You need to tell me about a couple of the best times." Harry said, smirking. 

I looked into his deep green eyes and shrugged, “Maybe another time, if you’re lucky.”