Yours: a short story [harry styles] ✓

1

12th June 2017

"In fourteen days, Niall and I will have been married for six months already." Elenore beamed through the screen, peering over the top of her Quay sunglasses to admire the diamond bands adorning her left hand. "Can you believe it?"

The video quality was far from HD, but I was fairly certain even a satellite in space would have been able to see those rocks. Niall certainly hadn't skimped on his wife's wedding jewellery. 

"Can I believe that you've been married for six months already, or can I believe that Niall has put up with you for this long?"

"Oh, har har." My best friend scowled; her lips twitching with amusement. "Say what you like, Marn, but in a mere five months you'll be a married woman like me—and you'll be saying the same things."

"Ugh, I hope not." I grimaced—watching as she slurped from a canary yellow beverage that contrasted appallingly with her lime bikini. "When you talk about Niall, you sound like Celia from Monsters Inc."

Elenore's left eyebrow twitched above her sunglasses. Winding her up never got old. "Whatever. Where's my child?"

I turned to look at the orderly toy box pushed up against the wall. "Your child is at nursery—no doubt telling everyone about Auntie Lelly's adventures." 

In response, Elenore pushed her sunglasses up onto her forehead. "Is she still wearing the beret I sent?" 

The Beret vs. Bandana saga of 2017 had all but taken over our lives for the past six months—a battle between Harry not wanting to let go of his "bandana baby", and Elenore desperately trying to become our daughter's stylist. The petite, rouge beret had arrived on our doorstep only five days after Ele and Niall touched down in the first destination of their Horan Honeymoon Tour. Paris. 

"Much to Harry's dismay—yes." I grinned. "Although I think his issue isn't so much that Nola has moved on from his beloved bandanas, but more because his little girl is growing up and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it." 

Elenore drained her glass and pulled the pineapple ring garnish off with her teeth. "Big girl school in three months!" She squealed around the mouthful of the yellow mush—to which I wrinkled my nose. "As if that little monster is old enough to go to school. It feels like only five minutes ago that we were spoon-feeding her soggy Weetabix, Marn." 

As it always did at any mention of Nola attending school—my throat constricted. "Don't. Come September, I'm going to be an absolute wreck." A waiter appeared in the background of Elenore's screen and switched out her now empty glass for a refilled one. My best friend was certainly enjoying married life. "How many of those have you had?" 

"Only two—stop being such a Mum for five minutes." She sighed. "Niall's having a golf day and I'm having a pool day—unlimited cocktails are a must." I was fairly certain they were supposed to be spending time together, but I opted not to question it. "Have you guys decided where you're going for your honeymoon, yet?" 

I shrugged and tucked my feet under myself on the sofa. "No idea. I've told Harry to surprise me. As long as it's child friendly and during the school holidays, I don't really mind."

I'd never really understood the purpose of a honeymoon. In my eyes, it was a big expensive holiday—made even more expensive when the word honeymoon was mentioned in the booking process. Although that also seemed to apply when wedding came before "cake" or "venue hire". Niall and Ele had taken it a step further and turned theirs into an eight month tour of Europe—mostly so that Niall could finally have the opportunity to appreciate all the places he'd already been to with the band. 

"You're shit at the whole Bridezilla thing." Elenore sighed from her poolside sun lounger. "You should try being a bit more demanding for a change—see how you like it." I rolled my eyes. "This is your one opportunity to put yourself first. Not Marnie the Mum, but Marnie the Bride. Pick what you want." 

Even after years of friendship, Elenore's poor grasp of the concept of family-life still continued to baffle me. "It's Harry's day too, Ele, and we want Nola involved as much as possible—she is essentially the reason why this is all happening anyway." 

My best friend's glasses slid down her nose again. "Actually, I think you'll find you shagging Harry Styles while off your tits is the reason."

A fact Elenore refused to let me forget. 

"Thank you." I frowned. "How is Italy anyway? Are you living out the Italian dream of endless pizza, pasta and cheese?" 

"I love it here," she sighed, switching her phone to the other hand. "In fact I've loved everywhere we've been. I kept thinking I'd be able to choose where has been my favourite—but I just haven't been able to pick. And I know why now." 

After an unnecessary dramatic pause, I prompted, "do tell?"

"Not wanting to sound like Celia—I think I just love being wherever Niall is." My instinctive reaction was to pretend to vomit in a bucket, but it was nice to be reminded every once in a while that Niall had grounded Ele to some extent.

"You guys are disgustingly adorable." I teased instead, laughing as she batted her free hand in front of the camera as if trying to swat me away. 

"Enough about me and my hunk of a husband—we have more pressing matters at hand." She wriggled in the lounger until she was sat upright; wearing an expression that I assumed was supposed to indicate she meant business. "We need to discuss the dress." 

I groaned. "Elenore, how many times do I have to tell you? I already promised that I wouldn't even think about looking for a wedding dress until you were back on UK soil. I can assure you that hasn't changed." 

The camera jostled as she pulled it closer to her face. "That is not the dress I am talking about, Marn!" She all but shrieked. 

"Then what are you—"

"Marnie!" She barked, rendering me both silent and horrified. "There is exactly one month and one day until the Dunkirk premiere. Please assure me that you have a dress?"

The camera sat so close to Elenore's face that I almost wanted to call her Edna Mode. "Ele, chill! I'm sure I've already got something that I can wear—I'll send you a photo the night before."

"I knew this would happen!" She cried—her face turning puce. "I knew we should have booked to come back earlier!"

"Jesus Christ!" I hissed, shrinking into the sofa with embarrassment—and I wasn't even there. "Will you calm down? You're sat by a pool at a very fancy hotel and spa. Do you want people thinking Niall Horan's wife is insane?"   

She brushed off my comments with the wave of her hand. "Never mind that. As your best friend, I cannot allow you to step out onto the red carpet in just something."

"Ele—"

"No, Marnie." She snapped, sounding an awful lot like my late Mother. "You better sit comfortably—we need to talk colours." 

author's note: I'm so sorry this took so long to post. Writer's block really kicked my butt for a good few months. But now that I've written one chapter, I'm already back in the swing of things and chapter 2 is underway. For those of you who have stuck around - let me know what you think!