babie
* * *
"She's...nocturnal?" I ask slowly, my brows furrowing in confusion.
"Yes!" Harry nods vigorously, placing the palms of his hands flat onto the table. "She made me stay up until 6 in the morning."
We had already ordered our foodâI ordered a mini pizza and Harry ordered some fancy pasta dish I wouldn't be able to pronounce if my life depended on it. Now we just sat and waited for our food, chatting over the strangest topics.
For example, Harry's experiences hanging out with Stevie Nicks.
"Okay, grandpa," I roll my eyes playfully, "you act like you've never pulled an all-nighter before."
"Oh please," he scoffs. "Being in a band like One Direction meant all-nighters twice a week at least. You try recording albums in an old surveillance van and tell me how you sleep. Why do you think our last album was called 'Made in the A.M.'?"
"Hm...I still don't think you can do it," I challenge, sitting back in my seat as I fold my arms.
"Really?" Harry raises an eyebrow. "How much you wanna bet?"
"Another date," I say after thinking it over for a moment. "Whoever falls asleep first has to plan and pay for our next date."
Harry purses his lips as he considers the offer before the corner of his mouth turns up into a smirk.
"Deal," he nods in agreement. He reaches his hand over the table and we shake on it, sealing the deal.
"Tonight."
"What?!" His eyes widen.
"We're going to pull one tonight," I say, clearer this time.
"Well, that's a little rude of you. I'm gonna need a little more preparation than that!"
"Oh, are you saying you can't do it?" I tease him, placing my hand over my heart.
"I never said that." Harry huffs, shrugging. "I'll be able to do it no problem."
"Whatever." I shrug and roll my eyes, just to show him I didn't believe him. I loved teasing him and making his "narcissistic" alter ego come out.
Together, we people watch for a moment, seeing people of all different sorts--observing what everyone was wearing. I spot a woman wearing the most gorgeous pair of heels I've ever seen. They were a tan color, with tinges of pink, glossy, and not too tall but also not too short.
"Ugh, I love that girl's shoes," I say, the sudden feeling of a metaphorical bucket of jealously being dumped on top of my head.
"Those are nice," Harry agrees, nodding as he spots them too as she walks past.
"Not that I need more shoes, but I need more shoes," I say and he laughs.
"I'm not really a shoe kind of guy." He shrugs, wrapping his hand and his glass of water. "I prefer clothes."
"I've noticed," I say, furrowing my eyebrows. "You have like two pairs of shoes with you. Why is that?"
"Those are really the only two I wear," he states simply. "I don't always wear boots."
"I do now," I say, smiling.
"You know...we need to start planning your birthday party," he says out of the blue, causing my eyes to grow wide. It was totally random and off-topic, he caught me off guard.
"Or we could not do that," I say suggestively, even though there wasn't really an option. There would be no party. My birthday isn't a day to celebrate.
"Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn?" Harry asks, frowning.
"Just lucky, I guess."
"What is it?" He asks, his brows furrowing in concern. "Why are you so anti-Lili-day?"
"There are a lot of reasons." I look down, feeling ashamed. It was honestly a little hard for me to talk about. Going through the emotions of what I've felt every birthday, building like blocks every year, was painful.
"Lay them on me," Harry says, leaning back in his chair, getting comfortable as if he wanted to show me he was ready for me to tell him my life story. "We didn't order too long ago, so we've got time."
"I don't know," I say hesitantly, never tearing my gaze from my lap. I never really even told Jess about my birthday phobia, at least not in detail.
"Please," Harry says, his voice smoother and softer than melted butter. His hand reaches up on top of the table to gently grab ahold of mine, our now joint hands resting against the white tablecloth.
I let out a sigh. "You promise you won't think I'm crazy?"
"I don't like to break promises." He smirks as he jokes.
"Harry," I whine, wanting him to be serious.
"Sorry," he apologizes, readjusting his posture, "Go on."
"The reason I don't like my birthday is that..." I sigh once again, "every year...something bad happens on my birthday."
"Give me an example."
"Okay. Last year, Jess tried to throw me a surprise party, and I'll have you know, when Jess throws parties, she goes all out. There was this...chocolate fountain that got clogged and chocolate sprayed everywhere... all over the house." I cringe at the memory. "I was scrubbing chocolate off my cabinets for days."
Harry's face twist at the thought as well. I don't blame him...I couldn't even look at chocolate for months, it made me sick to my stomach.
"Okay, well that was just last year," he says optimistically. "Something bad doesn't happen every year...right?"
"Wrong, actually," I correct him. "It's not always something big...but sometimes it is. And I never know which it'll be. There's not really a pattern to it, other than it happening every year."
Harry looks down, a sympathetic look taking over his face. He swallows harshly. "When did the first bad thing happen?"
"On my seventeenth birthday," I tell him simply, the memory painful to think about. "The first one was the worst one, actually."
"What happened?"
"I don't wanna talk about it." I shake my head, looking down as tears burn my eyes.
"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" He reminds me, tightening his grip on my hand, trying to get me to look up at him. But I didn't. I couldn't.
"I know," I say softly, nodding. "This just...isn't something I really like to talk about."
"That's okay," he rubs the top of my hand with the pad of his thumb, "you don't have to tell me. If you're not comfortable talking about it, I'm not gonna push you."
My heart melted at how supportive he was toward me. It was refreshing, I wasn't really used to it.
"Thank you," I say, my voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.
"But all that happened before you met me. Maybe...it doesn't have to be that way," Harry pushes gently, "I bet I could make this your best birthday ever... If you would just let me."
The way he pleaded hurt my heart even more. It wasn't because of the way his eyes glasses over or the way his lip pouted unintentionally...it was the way he felt so bad for me. He seemed so excited about my birthday that it physically pained me to have to turn him down.
As much as I hated my birthday, I hated the idea of Harry being sad even more. So that's why I finally caved, taking a big risk. For him.
"Fine."
"You'll let Jess and I throw you a party?" His face lights up, excitement filling his features.
"I never said a party." I point my finger at him to make sure he was listening. "I, you, Jess, and Jackson can celebrate my birthday. Nothing more...no parties, no extravagant gifts, nothing...crazy."
"Okay." Harry nods vigorously. "I'm so glad you said yes. I promise you won't regret this."
"I hope not," I say, looking back down at my pants.
* * *
"What did you think?" Harry asks, taking his seat in the driver's seat of the car.
"Amazing. Ten out of ten. Would recommend," I say enthusiastically. "How was your pasta?"
"Dry. One out of ten. Would not recommend," he says firmly, but ends up cracking a smile as he puts the car's gear into drive. "No, it was really good."
I chuckle and shake my head looking out the window.
"Shall we listen to some music?" He suggests, tapping on the touchscreen stereo of the car to connect his phone to the BlueTooth.
"Sure," I say.
"Here," he says, handing me his phone as he drives out of the back parking lot behind the Italian restaurant. "My password is 0639."
My stomach tightens. He just gave me the password to his phone.
"What?" He chuckles, noticing the surprised look on my face.
"I just...you gave me...the password to your phone," I say shakily.
"Yeah?" He says as if it wasn't a big deal. But it was like the biggest deal in the world to me. "I don't have anything to hide."
"That's so much power though."
He chuckles as he turns into the main road. "I trust you."
"O-Okay," I say, typing in the passcode to his phone before pulling up Apple Music.
"Just...be careful," he warns, "Don't leak Medicine or anything." He winks and I roll my eyes.
"You can never give your fans what they want." I roll my eyes.
"Nope," he says, seemingly pleased with himself.
I go to his playlists and my heart drops as I see the name of one.
"'Songs that remind me of you'," I read aloud, turning to Harry with a puzzled look on my face. "Who's 'you'?"
"I don't know," he says with a smirk. "Who are you?"
It took me a moment to catch on, but once I finally did, my heart skipped a beat.
"Wait...me?" I ask.
Harry doesn't respond, but his facial expression told me everything I needed to know.
I press shuffle and the first song to play isâironically enoughâFallingforyou by The 1975. My breath hitches as I look over at Harry.
His features were soft and he looked so at peace, I couldn't bear to ask him why this song just happened to be in this playlist.
I turn to look out the window and just as I do so, my hand is grabbed gently by a much larger one.
* * *
a/n: did i cry writing this? maybe
how we feelin ? what we thinkin ? what are our predictions ? talk to me.