Art | Harry Styles

29

"Have you seen this?"

Harry hands his phone over to Sophie, and she squints, reading the screen. Harry pushes his glasses up his nose, awaiting her response.

"India and Liam are having a party?" she reads from the screen, glancing back up at the boy seated on the bed in front of her. She hands him his phone back, his own hand falling to rest comfortably on her knee.

"Friday, yeah," he nods, scanning over the screen before setting his phone down, "They were nice, weren't they?"

"Are you asking me because you want my opinion, or because you can't remember yourself?" she teases, watching him playfully roll his eyes.

"Can't it be both?" Harry asks her genuinely, a soft grin tugging on his lips, "My real point was that Mum and Gem leave Thursday, so we could go. If you wanted to."

Sophie's tempted to pipe up and make the declaration that Elle should be leaving then, too, but the more than slight hostility made manifest whenever she's brought up is enough to keep her quiet.

"How about if you want to?"

"If that's the deciding vote, then I say we go," he tells her, thumb running smoothly over the side of her leg in a gentle, subconscious manner.

"Then we'll go. It'll be fun," she agrees with him, lacking much enthusiasm, but still nodding as she does so. She shuffles closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder with a quiet hum, as his fingertips continue to dance over her knee.

"Y'alright, pretty?" he asks softly into her ear, as she nudges her nose gently against his jaw. Her silent answer causing him to hum a, "Mm?"

"Mhm," she mumbles in response, burying her face into his neck. She knows he knows better, but she's also decided to keep her dislike for Elle as much to herself as possible.

She's been butting in at every given opportunity, without fail. Harry's family - as well as Elle, uninvited - had arrived in New York a few days ago now, and since then, Harry has met up with his family each and every day, sometimes with Sophie, sometimes alone. He's also made the effort to meet up with Elle - once, sometimes twice a day. Initially, Harry had been the instigator, finding no harm in meeting up with a friend. Seeing as he'd only met her a couple of times previous to her visit, he appreciates the effort she's made, and doesn't see why he shouldn't spend time with his friend.

But that omits her unscheduled visits to the flat. Each morning, some time between nine and ten, a knock has sounded on his front door, raising him from his bed each time with tired eyes. The first time she'd done so, was the morning following the gallery reopening, which just so happened to be a night where Sophie had fallen asleep at the flat. Not on purpose, but as the noise of knuckle on wood echoed throughout the apartment, it lifted Sophie's head from Harry's chest, and his bare fingers from her waist, his pink-painted nails unable to continue their subconscious tracing on her hip.

"Coffee?" she'd asked, brightly, "figured we could go get some - just you and me, Harry."

The second time, Harry was alone. But, still, he'd woken up in the very same manner. And the day after that - and the day after that; this morning. Harry is at her every beck and call.

Harry's phone vibrates from where he'd put it down, at the end of the bed, and Sophie's eyes follow the sound by instinct, while his remain glued to her. It vibrates a second time, but he makes no effort to move.

Sophie looks between him and the phone, "Aren't you gonna get that?"

His arms reach for her waist, shuffling backwards and pulling her with him so that she's seated on his lap. It's quickly becoming a new favourite position of theirs - both liking it for the very same reason, that reason being that every part of their bodies are touching. They can practically feel the other one's breath, the other one's heart beating. Her arms bend easily, her palms flattening against his chest as a deep exhale leaves her lips. One of her hands moves to his face, pushing the curls back from it as his hands shift over the small of her back.