𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐀! | harry styles

𝐗𝐈

I'M mooning in the mirror the next day before my shower, smiling like a fool.

Even though Harry didn't kiss me, I know in my heart he wanted to. My cheek is still warm where he touched it, and I feel like Marcia Brady when Davy Jones kisses her cheek after the dance–I'm never washing it again.

I'm still in awe that he's actually been listening to me these past few months. Here I thought he just zoned me out or was bothered by my presence this whole time, but actually, he maybe found me interesting. My whole brain is warning me that I'm doing something harmful by hanging out with him, by forming a connection, but I can't seem to care all that much. Even if it makes me an idiot.

If he was that close to kissing me, he's got to do something about the situation with Rosalie even if he doesn't like me in that way. He's not the kind of guy to go and kiss someone else while he has a girlfriend.

And the brush. The brush!

I sigh, closing my eyes and reliving the moment he tossed that thing right out into the middle of the highway. That has to mean something, and I hope it means he's going to end it with her.

I can't even dare to imagine that if he does, a small part might be because of me.

I spend half an hour twirling around my room and dancing to the radio, replaying the night in my head over and over again. The way he looked at me, the way he touched me…. Ugh, I can hardly stand it.

I'm as high as Cheech and Chong.

Aimee picks me up in her mother's car around lunchtime, and we head to Mac's to get a bite. We called Fran to see if she was up for it, but she just said no, she had to run errands with her mother but promised us she'd hang out soon. At least she seems to be feeling better.

We chow down on burgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes while we gossip about everyone we know and make plans to see Grease for the fifth time.

Aimee takes a big slurp of her shake. "So, Chris's car got hit in the lot last night." She nods towards the outside. "Scraped up the whole right fender."

"Oh shit, that sucks."

"Yeah, the guy drove off, but Harry managed to get his plates."

"Harry?"

"Yeah, he and Rosalie were sitting at the table closest to Chris's car. He was able to read it before the guy peeled out of the lot."

"Harry was here last night? With Rosalie?" My head starts to pound heavy with the blood rushing to my brain, the sound making a whooshing noise in my ears.

After the almost hand holding. After the almost kiss. After the actual cheek touch. He dropped me off and went straight to her.

"Yeah." She nods her head while my stomach sinks, and my burger feels like Lori's chicken cacciatore in my gut.

I don't know what to say. I'm sitting there silently, trying not to let my eyes well up at the information. My face is hot and my hands are sweaty. I have to admit to myself that a little part of me actually thought that maybe, just maybe, he had started to develop some feelings for me.

I am an idiot.

"What's wrong?"

I take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling so I don't cry. I tell her about the day I spent with Harry, leaving nothing out about my stupid assumptions and incorrect view of his actions. I tell her about my idiotic theory with the brush. When I'm done, I wipe a stray tear with my napkin.

"Huh. Well that might explain it." Aimee narrows her eyes and chomps on her straw.

"What?"

"Before Chris's car got hit, it looked like they were fighting."