Bet

E L E V E N : P H O N E - C A L L

Seven days have passed since mine and Harry's hangout. We haven't texted as much as one would expect, or as much as would be considered for a relationship. However, the space has been nice. It's cleared the hazy fog clouding my sense of reality.

Last week was such a blur. It's already been one entire week since I've graduated high school. An entire week that Harry and I have made a bet. An entire week since our first "not a date" but yes it was. So much had happened in such little time, it was starting to give me whiplash.

The last couple of days have given me time to consider just how idiotic and stupid this entire bet actually was.

The agreement came to be on a drunken night over ice cream. This strange sense of hope that maybe he was going to be different with me. He wouldn't treat me like other girls.

Maybe I could fix him. The boy is obviously a broken person to be able to go through women as fast as he does. To manipulate their hearts and pull the strings like a puppeteer.

We had been friends all throughout senior year. I knew him enough...right?

I think a part of me just wanted the experience. To know what it was like to be able to look back in twenty something years and say, "Yeah, I was someone who got the chance to date Harry Styles."

I try to reach out and send messages in hopes of a response but it's mainly one worded and short lived conversations.

This goes on for the next two weeks.

In twenty something years, I'm going to look back and cringe because I wasted my time on such a person.

But, I'm young and I'm dumb. My forty year old conscious can't pierce through the thick barrier that my seventeen year old conscious is constructing.

Maybe when I turn eighteen in a couple of weeks, my wall of common sense will be softer and reality will be able to knock me back onto the right path.

But for now, blissfully enjoying my fake relationship with the most attractive guy from high school would have to do for now. I'll worry about learning my lesson later on in life.

When my phone chimes, it seems as if that lesson is going to be taught a little sooner than planned.

At first, the notification is dismissed. I sit crisscross in the living room with Jade at her house. She's sat behind me on the couch, using my hair as practice to teach herself how to braid.

"Okay...Wait, does this piece go over or under this other piece?" She mumbles.

I shrug, eyes remaining closed and enjoying the tingles that trail from my scalp to my spine. "How did you start? Going over or under?"

"Damnit. I don't remember." She huffs. "Okay. No problem. We're just going to redo it. Right? No harm, no foul."

I hum my acknowledgment when my phone chimes once more.

"Someone's texting you."

I wave her off. "It's probably YouTube. I subscribed to this girl, and it's like she posts every half hour."

Jade snorts. "What does she post about?"

I shrug. "I came across one of her videos, it was a soap cutting video. And I liked it. So I subscribed."

Thus begins a deep spiral of sharing our favorite ASMR triggers and restarting the braiding process all over again.

"I can do eating videos, but not the weird ones. Like I don't want to see you eating ice sculptures or snacks shaped like hairbrushes and cleaning sponges." Jade grimaces. She runs the brush through my hair, finally finishing one braid and starting the other.