High Times (The One Where Harry's Just Really Forward.)

High Times

They were high and content, enjoying a movie while resting comfortably on her couch when he said it.

"You ever wanted to sleep with me?"

The atmosphere was a bit cloudy. She needed confirmation she heard him clearly. Her gaze lowered toward Harry, whose head lie in her lap.

She gently combed her fingers through his long curls, as it soothed him, a need for comfort the motivation behind his late night visit. Her movements halted and he took note, curious, heavy-lidded eyes focused on her. He genuinely wanted to know.

The dimples, that whole brokenhearted puppy thing he was so good at nearly cancelled out the subject matter. Baby faced innocence worked in his favor.

"What?"

Harry laughed. "Sex. Shagging. Doin' it. Bumping uglies –"

"There were about a million other things you could have asked if you were shooting for awkward," she teased, mainly for deflection. He caught her off guard; her cheeks warmed as he stared at her. She'd thought about it, countless times.

But aside from liquor-laced kisses and touching or the occasional cuddle, nothing. They never crossed that line and she'd have been fine with that. Alternatively, if it did, well...

"I'm serious," he insisted, poking her arm. And though Harry was typically the quiet type, almost even sort of closed off, he was looser around his admittedly pretty lips tonight. Apparently they'd smoked some pretty potent stuff.

"Where's this coming from?" she questioned, studying him for any indications that he was kidding around, jokester he was... but there were none. His eyes, which had taken on a steely blue shade opposed to the usual green and were glossed over, widened.

He shrugged. "A place. A horny place." At least he was honest.

From the coffee table, she grabbed the empty bowl they'd shared and examined it. What the hell was in there? She fixed a curious gaze onto him. "And I'm the best you could do?"

He smiled a hazy smile. "If you'd let me."

He then resumed watching TV.

As if his proposal hadn't shaken her to her core. Her calm, gentle friend, who showed the utmost respect for women and hardly ever made any advances, apparently wanted to screw her?

It wasn't as if he didn't have options; in fact, he probably had too many, being Harry Styles and all.

Having a famous friend didn't phase her any longer. She didn't overthink or try so hard anymore. Harry was refreshingly human, she'd discovered and he didn't take himself nearly as seriously as others tended to.

It was her favorite thing about Harry, his normalcy. While not oblivious to having an "It" factor, whatever "It" was, he possessed humility, the sort people fell in love with and thus far, she'd managed to resist. It was no easy feat and usually those thoughts dissipated as quickly as they formed.

But tonight, that would change.

She hadn't answered his question, she finally registered. He knew what he wanted and in rare form, put it out there. Unusual for Harry. He'd never been great at expressing himself despite feeling everything so deeply, and she was flattered considering how he over analyzed anything he ever verbalized.

She wondered how long it'd been on his mind. It wasn't like he'd asked for her hand in marriage. They were adults and it'd been a long time since the last time. She wasn't even sure she'd know how to anymore.

Many guys in L.A. were a unique brand of gross but here was the exception, this British import. Sure, he could be sort of fancy and certainly enjoyed the fruits of his endless labor, but he was beautifully chill.