In My Feelings | Harry Styles

Three

October 16, 2020

Harry groaned as he blinked his eyes open, the shrill ring of his phone an assault on his ears. He ran one hand over his face as he grabbed his phone off the nightstand with the other. He didn't check the caller id.

"Hello?" His voice broke in the middle, the grogginess completely taking over.

"Harry, what the fuck? I've been texting you for, like, two hours!" It was Sarah--and she was yelling.

"What do you want?" He pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned his head back against the headboard as his eyes fluttered shut. He was exhausted...and maybe still a little drunk.

"What do I want? I want to know what the fuck is going on."

"What do you mean?" He knew his annoyance was clear in his voice. He wanted her to ask whatever she wanted to ask. He was in no mood to have her dance around whatever she was trying to get at.

"Harry, I saw the pictures of you and (Y/N). All of them."

Immediately, his eyes were open and his back was off of the plush fabric. He dropped his head into his left hand, elbow resting on his left knee once his legs were crossed beneath him. "What pictures?"

"Well, the stupid ones of the two of you at the show, but the ones at the party. I saw them, H. And you've got a bit of explaining to do." He could hear the smirk in her voice.

He felt the panic bloom in his chest. Harry knew there were cameras there--and not just the ones in phones. He knew that magazines usually sent photographers to the after parties so they could write articles on who was there, but usually they were discreet and only ever posted portraits or group shots.

He was worried. If there was a picture of him with his arm around you, or worse: one of him pulling you into the bathroom, you were both absolutely fucked. For a second, he regretted all of it. As much as he enjoyed his time with you, none of it was worth the absolute chaos that would come from a picture like either of those.

With hesitancy, he asked, "What kind of picture? Where?"

"Well, there's one of you two in Interview. You guys are sitting next to each other in a booth with Alexa Chung." Harry sighed in relief. "I more so would like to know about the photo the two of you are in the back of."

He felt himself tense up again, "What do you mean?"

"You two are in the back of Gigi Hadid's photo."

Harry pulled his phone away from his ear and put the call on speaker before rushing to Instagram and typing in Gigi's name.

"You can't see your faces. I only knew it was (Y/N) because of her shoes. You can see them between your feet."

Sarah was right. In the back of the photo, slightly hidden by the low light was Harry, his back completely to the camera. He covered your entire body and unless someone looked down between his feet at the bright blue heels, he or she wouldn't even register that there was someone in front of him.

"Sarah, you scared the shit out of me." Harry let out a small laugh of relief.

"Harry, what's up? You like her now or something?"

"No, I was just handing her a drink."

"You're pressed up against her like you want to fuck her."

"How would you know that?"

"So you were pressed up against her! I fucking knew it."

Harry rolled his eyes, "No. I wasn't. I was just asking what would make you think that." Sarah started to argue but he cut her off, telling her that he needed to call Jeff, which wasn't a lie.