About (Harry Styles)

61.

Elaine's POV

"Do you know where my phone is, Harry?"

"No, I haven't seen it" a shirtless Harry answers as he peeks into his room from the bathroom. He has his obnoxiously orange toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and I find it unbelievably cute.

"I must have misplaced it," I say, annoyed with my unfolded clothes. I really need to learn how to pack better.

"Misplaced?"

"Yeah." I turn my head to look at him.

"No, I mean, that's such a big word. I imagined you would use a more conventional term like .. Lost."

"Now is not the time to make fun of my semantics, Harry," I say, dismayed with his untimely poke at my lack of vocabulary. This is the sixth time I've looked in my suitcase, and I swear I had slipped it in here somewhere.

My hands rest on my hips as my eyes scan the every inch of Harry's room. They finally stop at another bag on the floor, Harry's bag.

Could I have put it in there at the airport?

All of a sudden, a pair of strong arms wrap around me and I belch out a squeal in surprise. They almost carry me off my feet before Harry's curls tickle against my cheek as he rests his chin on my shoulder. I don't try to struggle free from his hold knowing that any attempt to escape would be in vain as he is too strong for me.

"Why don't we go to the city?" He asks, his voice soft and sweet.

"Why?" I feel him shrug his shoulders against me.

"To try and convince you to live with me."

Live with him?

He can't be serious. Me, living in a completely different country. It's never been in the works. But neither was Harry. It's always been New York.

"Very funny, Harry."

"Thank you for noticing. I am funny.  But I'm not trying to be right now." He loosens his arms to turn me around, his fingers interlace with mine as soon as I face him. He places them right on his chest and suddenly I'm very aware that he's half naked. "Come on, it'll help clear my head a bit. Unless you want to do something else to clear my head," he adds cheekily.

He leans in and my hand shoots up to block his lips.

"Put on a shirt first," I tell him and he lets out a hearty chuckle.

The roles have seemed to have reversed. Harry himself is pretty convincing. Usually I pictured myself being the one begging to go into the city. Harry also somehow manages to put me in a dress. When and where he got the dress, I'll never know. When I ask him who got it, he only replied with a wink and even after asking many times, he continues to remain coy.

I guess I'll find my phone later.

Before we're even out the door, I already feel a little self-conscious about this dress, not because of how others would look at me. I could care less how others saw me. Rather how Harry would look at me. It wasn't exactly fitted but it was a little too orange for my liking. He knows how much I think orange is unflattering on me. Plus, dresses were never my thing. At least it was a dark orange so it looked maroon.  Sorta.

I'm about to step a foot outside until Harry hauls me back, his hand gripping mine. Our eyes meet in an instant and I take notice that he's dressed very handsome today. Light orange collared shirt, black dress pants, black dress shoes, his semi-wet hair let down, his curls falling just above his shoulders. For a moment, I'm afraid he's changed his mind.