What we become

7. Just good friends

When I made it home, it was almost 1pm, but I wanted to let him know I was thinking of him right before I went to bed. Because that's what sneaky friends-pushing-the-friendzone-barrier do.

Thanks for dinner tonight. It was great seeing you.

He text me back almost immediately.

My pleasure. Night! No kiss at the end. But did I honestly expect it? Yes, the annoying voice in my head answered. That was a rhetorical question, I told it. Okay... I was losing my mind. I had to go to bed. I put my phone down, willing myself not to text him 'goodnight x' like I wanted to. Why should a friend get a good night text message? And why should a guy friend, who I was clearly falling for, get a kiss- even if it's just a text-kiss- from me?

If there was one thing that Harry Styles did well, it was send me mixed messages but keep me firmly in the friend-zone. Okay, he was also ridiculously good at singing. And cooking. And I'm sure he was good at rolling out of bed and looking like a God. Hell, he was good at everything. It was so frustrating!

Sunday morning, I slept in. It had taken me a while to fall asleep the night before, lying in bed mulling every interaction between us over and analysing it all in depth. I went for a surf down south where the waves were perfect, the water glassy and refreshing. Then I spent the rest of the day finishing my homework and polishing my assignments. It was 4pm when I hit the 'submit assignment' button on my laptop. Only one month of school left and I would be free. 

I hadn't heard from Harry all day, then finally, my phone buzzed.

I get out of here around 6. Is that okay? 

I started to text him a reply, 'Sure! Can't wait to see you,' but then I deleted it. Be brave, Ella! I thought to myself and started to draft another text, 'Yeah, I'm looking forward to it', but I deleted that too. 

A moment later, my phone buzzed again. I should have known he would call me when I didn't reply, no doubt he could see those three little dots come up on his screen as I drafted my replies, and then disappear when I never sent them. I watched my phone ringing in my hand, with a picture of Harry smiling on the cracked screen. I wanted to let it ring out, I wanted time to figure out what to say to him. I needed to feign coolness and I felt like a nervous wreck. It struck me then, not many girls would look down at that screen and see who was calling them and debate whether or not to answer.

'I'm not like most other girls,' I had said last night.

'No, you're not,' Harry had agreed.

I sighed. I was over analysing every single detail. Just answer it, I willed myself. On the final ring, I accepted the call. 

"Hey," I said, trying to sound normal.

"Hey," he replied. "How are you?"

"I'm great," I replied, my voice sounding overly cheerful, even to my own ears. I tried to settle my nerves. "How are you?"

"Yeah, I'm well," he said. "How's your day been?"

"Oh, really good," I lied. It was actually incredibly boring. I had all but spent it doing schoolwork and sitting around, waiting on a boy who had friend-zoned me to become available so I could just exist in his presence. I was making myself feel sick to the stomach over the way I felt about him and lay awake at night wondering if he reciprocated my feelings. I kind of hated this desperate, pathetic version of myself. 

"Yeah? Why it so good?" He asked and I could hear the smile in his voice, and I knew he genuinely wanted to know.

"The surf was incredible today," I told him, focusing on the one good part of my day so far. "The sets were so clean today and the waves peeled off beautifully." I got lost in the moment, reliving every barrel for him. "How was yours?"