Head Over Heels (One Direction Fic)

Chapter 21

I was speechless. I stood at the top of the stairs with my mouth hanging open looking back and forth between my little brother and Harry.

“Do you think I could come in?” Harry asked almost timidly.

Matt looked to me for reassurance. Almost like he didn’t want to make the decision.

“Well everyone in this house thinks we’re fucking anyway so come on up,” I  said loudly, making sure that my mom could hear.

Matt motioned him inside and Harry walked slowly up the stairs in his normal meandering style. It felt like ten years before we finally made it up to my room because Harry kept stopping to look at all of the baby pictures, and snapping quick shots on his phone to use for blackmail later, or so I assumed.

I turned to face him taking in his features. He looked a little worried honestly. I let out a sigh and wrapped my arms around his chest pulling him into a tight hug.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I mumbled into his shirt.

His chest vibrated with laughter, “it’s good to see you too.”

I pulled back and sat down on my bed, “I’m sorry, you just have no idea how good it is to see your face right now.”

“Yeah, the feeling is mutual,” Harry mumbled almost too quietly for me to hear. Almost.

I tugged on his shirt making him sit down on the bed beside me. “So really, what are you doing here? And how do you even know my address?” I asked skeptically.

“Well you work for us, it’s not that hard to figure out your address honestly. You said that if people didn’t have anywhere to go for the holiday that they could crash your Thanksgiving.”

“Yeah, and look around, nobody took me seriously. Harry, I was kidding. Everyone goes home to their families for Thanksgiving, why didn’t you?”

“My mum and step-dad conveniently scheduled a cruise. My sister has plans with her friends. Cal is accompanying his wife to visit her family for the holiday. I thought that SOMEONE would stick around, but nobody did.”

“I can’t believe you thought I was being serious,” I sighed, “only you.”

“I can go though,” he offered, “I’m sure I can find something to do in New York or Los Angeles. I’m Harry Styles, right? Surely someone will want to hangout with me.”

I let myself picture it for a moment—Harry hanging out with groupies or people who were only using him for his name. “No.” I said firmly. “You can stay here. I’m not letting you go.”

“I really don’t want to intrude. You were just the only person I could think of that I wouldn’t mind spending this time with,” he looked down at his lap nervously. Before I could question him any further, or comment on his new timid attitude, I heard the doorbell ring.