The Weeks Between • HS

Week 19 • Nola *

I have no idea when my hatred for the words boyfriend or girlfriend began. I've just always had a distaste for them, even long before the age I should have been talking about having a boyfriend or girlfriend, or being one to someone. It was probably something stupid like the bullies in elementary school taunting me for being friends with more boys than girls in first and second grade. I related better to boys. I had a brother and spent all my time with him. Even at a very young age, I recognized how much drama girls brought to the table and I wasn't interested in any of it. Maybe that's why I was shipped off to an all-girls boarding school?

Yesterday, however, I said the words girlfriend and boyfriend in the same five minutes. Not only that, but when I said them I was referring to myself and my Harry, who just happens to also be HARRY FREAKING STYLES. Normally, I'd have pinched myself, or asked someone to slap me, to make sure I wasn't dreaming. I didn't need to l, though, because Harry did things to me last night that proved that I was, in fact, not dreaming and very much involved in a relationship where two people should damn well boast the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend.

It happened. Somewhere between June and now, I let him in, completely. Last night, when I opened my dresser to show him an empty space for him, you would have thought that I'd given him the keys to a new Ferrari. Scratch that, he's got a Ferrari. It's not like he could just wear my clothes, like I do with his. I didn't want him to have to go back to his house to change when we had sleepovers, and I plan for us to have a lot of sleepovers.

We tucked in the girls and walked down the hallway to my room. It felt so foreign to invite him in like that. Giving him my time right after I put the girls to bed; time where they could come in and find Harry and I lounging on the bed, or downstairs doing the dishes. Time where they would see us in a real-life relationship. I even left a toothbrush out on the counter for him, still in the packaging, that I hear him opening to use right now.

"Harry?"

He peeks his head around the corner. Small bits of toothpaste foam are stuck to the side of his mouth. "Yeah," he says muffled by the toothbrush obstruction.

I stand up off the bed to join him in the bathroom. He just finished a shower, so his damp body is wrapped in my robe. "I see that you borrowed by robe?" I say, wrapping my arms around his mid-section from behind and focusing on the pair of us in the mirror.

He spits in the sink, rinsing his brush and his mouth before wiping a towel over the wetness on his face. He turns to face me, turning me, as well, to give me his undivided attention. "If it's a problem, I'd be happy to take off your robe," he teases as his hands run against my low back, pulling my body against his.

I push my hands against his chest and squirm to get out of his overt affectionate embrace. "Harry, please?"

"Please what? I thought my girlfriend would be fine with me wearing her robe."

"Enough about the robe! Harry, focus!" I scold and his hands continue to wander over my body. I step back and away from him, far enough away that he has nothing to do but listen to me. "When do Tom and Tyler get in?" I ask him.

"Not until Thursday, but Mitch and Sarah want to come over later, if you're up for it?" he asks me.

"I'll have to see if Helen and Albert can watch the girls," I say because I want an adult night, not a night of Barbie's and nail polish.

He surprises me when he offers, "Gemma and Michal are in London, too. So, maybe they'd like to see the girls? Or you could call Lou. She and Lux would love to see the girls again."