Five Days || HS

DAY THREE

Harry should have been elated. He had every right to be, his album was charting at number one all over the world, his mum had just called and told him that she couldn't be prouder of who he has become, and he had gotten extra whip in his chai latte. It was a pretty decent start to the morning, you know? 

But he knew that the moment he walked into the studio he would have to come face to face with Alicia and the clear awkwardness that was now before them. He didn't want to say he had never felt this—whatever it was—with anyone else, but he really hadn't. It sounds cliche, it does. Harry knew though that things with her were just so different than they had been with anyone else. He didn't know where he stood, what he could say, what he could do. All he knew was that yesterday things had changed and he didn't know what to make of it or how it would affect their work relationship. 

"How do you do that?" James asked, peering at him from the top of his sunglasses. They were at a red light, and James was once more marveling at how Harry always managed to look so incredibly put together at the ass crack of dawn. 

Harry smirked as he looked at James who was wearing a dad-ish polo shirt with a few remnants of baby spit up on it. James' cargo shorts had been clean, that is, until they hit the coffee shop closest to them and he had managed to spill a great deal of his iced latte on them. Now there were chocolate stains and remnants of the muffin he had attempted to eat while driving. 

"Don't know. Just throw anything on, you know?"

"Clearly I don't." James said, signaling to his mess of an outfit.

"That's what you have stylists for." Harry pointed out.

"They aren't on hand 24/7."

Harry leaned over and cupped his friend's shoulder with fake sympathy, "You'll eventually get the hang of it, mate."

James swatted Harry's hand away and tried to focus on the road. But Harry had begun humming and tapping his long fingers against the dashboard in beat to the music that was playing on the radio. It just so happened to be his song. 

"Normally I'd say that's incredibly narsassitic, but it's actually kind of endearing."

"You're making me blush." Harry said with a playful coyness 

James leaned over and shoved him even though he was driving. Harry laughed, but once the moment passed he began to sing out loud with the radio. He couldn't help it.

"You do actually listen to your own tunes, don't you?" James asked.

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I? I love my album."

"See, that's the kind of response I want to hear from a musician!" James said excitedly, "How can you expect someone to buy your album if you don't even like listening to it. "

Harry nodded, "I completely agree." and continued humming along to his song. James respectfully waited until the song was over to continue the conversation, even turned up the radio a bit so Harry could jam out in the confines of the Range Rover.

"Guess who loves your album more than you do, though." James asked when the music had faded.

"Who?"

"I reckon it's someone you don't quite get on with."

Harry furrowed his brow, "Kanye?"

"You don't even know Kanye."

"I met him once."

"You're right, once is enough for someone to decide they don't like you."

"Hey!"