The Contract // H.S.

Chapter Twenty-Six

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"Harry, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Jeff bellows, standing in front of Harry and I who are seated on the couch. 

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Jeffrey."

"You have no-- ugh," Jeff scoffs, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. "Okay, let's not fuck around right now. Do you have any idea what I've been dealing with this afternoon?" 

Jeff pauses, looking between the two of us discerningly. 

"Do you?"

Harry and I glance at each other, and while I'm sure I look scared shitless, Harry is the picture of calm, almost looking amused at Jeff's anger. 

"No, Jeffrey, why don't you tell us?" Harry quips. Jeff responds by throwing his hands in the air and slumping his body into the armchair across from us, a giant sigh escaping his lips as he hits the cushion. He leans lazily to one side and rests his head in his hand. 

"I've been fielding calls from reporters all day, Harry! Harry Styles off the market!  It's everywhere. You had to have seen this coming when you took Chloe on that extremely public date last night. You know better than that. You know how hard I've-- we've --struggled to create and maintain your image. This," Jeff gestures to the two of us with his hand, "does not fit with what we've created."

"This?" Harry asks, gently grabbing my hand and resting it with his on his thigh. "We're together, Jeffrey. As my best friend, I would have though you'd be happy for me." 

Jeff's gaze travels from Harry's face, to our hands, and over to my face. His eyes squint ever so slightly in a wordless signal to me. This wasn't part of our deal, is what he's telling me. I look away from his stare before I can get too flustered. Jeff looks back at Harry. 

"As your friend, I am happy for you. But I also know you, and I know this is how you force getting your way. You can't do things like this without running it by me. You forget that you're the Harry Styles, man. You have an image to uphold, and this is a PR nightmare."

"And what is this image?" Harry stands up from the couch, becoming visibly frustrated. "I've been doing a pretty good fucking job of 'single playboy jackass' the past two years. You've been begging me to slow down with the girls for over a year, and now that I actually want to be with someone, you're telling me it's a bad idea? Why?"

Jeff contemplates his response for a few seconds, watching Harry stand there with his hands on his hips as he waits for the answer. Jeff glances back to me with a disapproving look on his face, but I'm getting the feeling there's not a lot he can do to change the situation at this point. So now he's calculating and trying to figure out the best way to spin this. 

Jeff groans, standing up and walking the length of the living room to the bar. He walks behind it, grabbing a short ball glass from the open shelving. He stops, looking to Harry and I in question.

"Tequila, sure," Harry pipes in, walking himself over the the bar and placing one leg up in a half-sit half-stand position to rest on the counter. I shake my head no. Jeff continues, grabbing another glass for Harry and starts speaking again while he's pouring ice and tequila into the two glasses. 

"Harry," he starts, "you know we've done the research on this. You have better sales when you're seen in the public as single."

"I'm not selling a fucking album right now!" Harry raises his voice threateningly to Jeff as he takes the offered drink. "I'm making a movie, which isn't even finished filming by the way. Besides, any 'fan' of mine who suddenly isn't a fan if I'm with someone and happy can fuck off." Harry sips his tequila, throwing a glance and a short wink unseen by Jeff my way. Jeff rolls his eyes, placing his glass on the counter in front of him and bracing himself against the counter with his hands, slightly hunched over and stares at Harry intently.