Stylist (book 1) - H.S

Chapter 27: Banjo.

A/N: above is El's childhood home, and song is linked!! WE'RE GOIN TO THE COUNTRY!

I wake up to the light strum of a guitar once again, and open my eyes to the same image I saw yesterday. Harry without a shirt, sitting at the end of the bed, leaning over his instrument, and playing something I don't know.

"What are you playing?" I ask, and see him slightly jump at my voice.

"You scared me." He mumbles softly, turning his head to me.

"Sorry, I just woke up." I sit up, crossing my legs under the sheets, and put my hands in my lap.

"I didn't hear you." He tells me, and it seems like he might have just woken up as well. I look to my phone, and see the time, realizing how early it is, the sun might have just risen.

"It's early, why are you up?" I ask, feeling a small hint of worry.

"Couldn't sleep." He tells me, still lightly playing with the strings on his guitar.

"Are you okay?" I ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"Yea, I'm alright." He tells me.

"So that song.... You going to tell me what it is?" I ask him, and he shakes his head.

"Oh, um.. It's just a tune I've had stuck in my head so I've been messing with it, that's all." He tells me, but I've heard him humming it, and I've heard him playing it a few times now. I know it's more than some tune like he claims. "We should get going soon. I don't want to drive through traffic." He tells me, and swings his guitar from his lap, standing from the bed. "Shower?" He asks, and I smile simply, and move myself from the bed. I follow him as he moves into the bathroom and turns the water on.

We strip down together and get in, him facing the water, and me moving my arms around his torso, holding his body to my chest.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask him, and I feel his hands on my arms as I hold him.

"Missing home." He tells me, and I press my lips to his back, leaving a soft kiss. "I missed you when you were gone.. I don't know if I told you that." He tells me, and I smile.

"I missed you too." I tell him, and he turns around.

"What are we doing?" He asks, holding my shoulders.

"We're taking a shower, and then driving to Atlanta... duh?" I move around him, and grab the wash.

"Yea... okay." He mumbles, and I look over my shoulder.

"I'm not sure what's wrong with you, but you need to cheer up. We're going to Atlanta, we're going to have a nice drive, tour is almost done, there's plenty to be happy about." I tell him, and he lets out a small smile.

"Coming from someone who didn't smile until the third month of tour." He jokes, and my jaw drops.

"That is NOT true and we both know it. You're so full of shit." I turn back around, and feel the soft scrub of the cloth on my back from him.

We got out of the shower and I stole some of his clothes to wear, wanting something more comfy, more baggy for the car ride. We got in the car and the first few hours went smoothly but I could see how tired he was, knowing he hadn't slept hardly at all the night before, so I took over.

We had around five hours left after he sat passenger, and I began to wonder why we decided to drive instead of just flying. I turned on the music, and I had a good time alone while he leaned his head against the car door and slept.