𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐀! | harry styles

𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈

WHEN we pull up to the UCLA theater, Harry comes around to open my door and takes my hand. It isn't awkward when we meet up with our parents and he doesn't let it go. Anne and Desmond just say hello and barely give our clasped hands a glance, and we all walk down the red carpet the student film association has put out for the event. There are lots of people milling about, and Harry tells us that it is rumored past alumnus Francis Ford Coppola has attended before. I look around the crowd for him, but I'm not really sure what he looks like so I give up.

He grips my hand tightly as we walk through the crowd looking for Kyle  and Glen. "Are you nervous?" I ask.

"Sort of. I mean, I know it's a good short film, but you just never know."

"It's going to be awesome, don't worry. I'll still whistle even if it bombs."

"Gee, thanks." He grins and pulls me to where the guys are. I can tell they are also nervous waiting for it to start already. The usual pleasantries are exchanged between the guys and our folks until finally the announcement comes for the students to report to someone named Mr. Rubenstein and Harry takes a deep breath. Our parents wish him luck and he kisses me sweetly on the cheek before going into the theater. We follow a few minutes later when it's announced the audience can take our seats and settle in for what Harry says will be about two hours of films.

My body is vibrating and I'm fidgety waiting for Harry's turn. We watch the first one, about a couple going through a divorce. It makes me think of what Rosalie said about Dad and Lori, and I glance at them in the dark, their faces reflecting the light from the screen. They're holding hands and I decide that Rosalie really is full of shit, while I subconsciously put my hand on my bag. I don't know a lot about how she and Lori lived before Dad and I showed up, but there has to be a lot of anger there to spew lies and be able to do what she's doing to herself.

I shake my head of thoughts and give a valiant effort to focus on the films. The next one is pretty out-there, or artsy fartsy as Dad said. There are a lot of people dressed in white jumping around for some reason with big balls that are supposed to be the planets. A monotone voice over drones through the theater, and I almost fall asleep until I feel Anne bump my arm.

"This is it!" she says proudly and I sit up straighter, searching out the back of Harry's perfect head ten rows ahead of us.

I recognize the beginning instantly since I've seen the rough cut and poke Dad in the ribs when he comes on screen. He's grinning ear-to-ear and I'm happy he's enjoying seeing himself thirty feet tall. The changes I remember them talking about are all there and even though I had no doubt they knew what they were doing, the final product is perfect.

When the last credit rolls off the screen, the crowd starts to applaud and I jump up on my feet, the promised wolf-whistle coming out of me loudly. The guys stand like the other filmmakers did after their films and wave to the crowd. The smile on Harry's face is huge as he laughs at me whistling, making a fool of myself, but I don't care. I'm so proud of him.

Unfortunately, there are two more films after that because all I want to do is go to him and hug him silly. But we watch patiently and I have to admit they're pretty good. Not as good as Harry's, of course, but interesting enough.

As soon as the lights come on, I see Harry standing to walk back to us. I hesitate in our row, giving his parents the opportunity to congratulate him first, but he reaches over my parents and grabs me, pulling me into the aisle and giving me a huge hug right in front of everyone.

Desmond and Anne are right there after, hugging him and telling him how good it was, and my parents follow suit. We file out of the theater and our parents drink wine and nibble on some cheese as Harry gets interrupted frequently by people congratulating him and giving him wonderful praise. I'm so happy that others recognize that it was definitely the best one tonight.