FINE LINE | HARRY STYLES

FORTY-THREE.

NOVEMBER, 2019. CONT.

Three days.

It's been three days since Grace's house. I feel like a fool for even bringing it up and ruining something that had been going so good, but I couldn't just keep it inside anymore.

And the fact that he had to accuse me having feelings for Benny just to have something to argue back pissed me off like no other. Benny and I are friends and it's clear he doesn't have any romantic intentions.

"I come bearing pancakes." Benny announces as he enters my house. He holds the to go box up and grins at me.

I send him a weak smile, sipping my coffee from where I stand behind the kitchen counter. He places it down in front of me and sits on a stool, studying my face.

"Nothing yet?"

Sighing, I shake my head, "We're both too stubborn." I mutter.

"You know, you two love each other too much to be fighting like this. I know we haven't known each other long but I see the way your eyes sparkle when you say his name. In all honesty, it seems like you're scared that you're going to lose him over someone that you shouldn't even worry about. I understand they're taking a huge step together, but in the end, who is it that he's going home to?" Benny rants, crossing his arms at me.

"I don't like that you're right." I mumble, staring down at my coffee.

"I think you should talk to him. I'm pretty sure you miss him."

"It's only been three days." I scoff.

"Says the one who texted me crying while listening to Sweet Creature."

-

So, I swallowed my pride. After Benny went home, I got dressed and drove down to Harry's house. For some reason, I'm nervous to go in. But at the same time, he can't just kick me out.

I pull out the key he had given me and use it to unlock the front door. As soon as I enter, the sound of soft piano music fills my ears. It's not him playing, it's a record.

Placing my purse down, I look around the house to find him. My brows furrow when I notice a sweater draped across the back of the couch. I think I've seen it before.

Laughter comes from upstairs and my shoulders tense.

Grace.

I don't even try to stay quiet anymore as I begin to storm up the stairs, making my way toward Harry's bedroom where the giggles erupt from. In a swift motion, I turn the knob and practically kick the door open. Any harder it would've fallen off the hinges.

Harry's in his bed, back against the headboard as Grace is spoon feeding him cold medicine. It takes me a moment to take it all in. There's tissues all over the bed and bedside table along with cough drops and a mug of what I can assume is tea.

He looks tired. Red nose that matches the red ringlets around his eyes. And his skin is pale.

They're both staring at me in shock and Grace glances at Harry for help but Harry's staring at me with a sad look in his eye.

Frankly, I'd prefer walking in on them fucking.

"You're sick?" I question, stepping into the room.

"He has the flu." Grace answers.

"He has the fucking flu he's not mute so I'm sure he can answer for himself." I snap at her.

"It's just a little cold." Harry shrugs, a look of shame flooding into his features.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would've come over."