84 ⭑ Dirty, Sweet, and you're My Girl

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"You're dirty, sweet and you're my girl..."
T.Rex - Bang a gong (Get it on.)

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The Prom Recovery was fuckin rough

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The Prom Recovery was fuckin rough.

But, luckily for me I had a fiancé who was getting me through it every morning with what he called 'breakfast rehab'. And for the past four days alone, I'd woken up to the smell of savory food, the sounds of music, and the sight of Harlow in the kitchen cooking shirtless or other.

"Well, you're dirty and sweet, clad in black, don't look back, and I love you."

Hearing him listening to T. Rex, I slid down my staircase in his t-shirt and my underwear, excited to see what he'd cooked up for me this time.

I could hear the eggs crackling and sizzling in the pan and I could smell the coffee brewing, and I needed that shit more than anything. He and I were up all night talking about our trip to England.

We left tomorrow, so we had to book hotels in advance, plan events, and talk to my new manager. yeah, my new fuckin manager with my new record label. Finally.

His name was Cal. Short for Calum. He let it be known he hated being called Calum almost as much as he hated people who were late, which was a perfect coincidence considering our first time meeting, I was twenty minutes behind schedule.

Thanks, Harlow.

Ever since he noticed his hair had gotten longer, he'd been fucking around with styles a lot. He chose that morning to test out a bun and my hair curlers, cause he thought it'd be funny.

I took a picture of him dressed up what he called 'Cherry drag' and that picture was now hung up on our crowded, overflowing fridge, along with a bunch of other silly photographs of him, Niko, Koi and our stupid gaggle of friends.

The meeting with Cal however, was good regardless. He said he'd try to find us some gigs while we were in the UK and some more for when we got back.

I was excited to go to there.

Despite everything I'd heard, I was thrilled to meet Harlow's mum. She was the one who created him, raised him to be who he was, I was fascinated by the idea of her and so badly I wondered what she'd be like.

Harlow told me not to get my hopes up, which I understood, given what I'd been told about her, but I was going to make her love me and I was going to try and patch things up between them to some degree.

She raised a... complicated, but lovely little... bitch.

I had to give credit where it was due.

I craned my head around the wall to the kitchen and saw Harlow standing in front of the stove in black boxers and the same black & yellow Metallica shirt that I'd stolen from him when we first met. Only, it was a crop top now and came just to his belly button.

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