This Thing Upon Me [Order The eBook] [Harry Styles]

Chapter 27

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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When we hopped in, he adjusted the seat and made a remark about the air fresheners. I adjusted the GPS and slapped his hand away when he started messing with the dials and buttons on the dash.

"Don't f-k up my pre-sets."

"Don't matter," he forfeited. "I'm too psyched, anyweh." He started the engine and revved it relentlessly, unleashing a deep growl throughout the yard.

"Mate, don't piss off the neighbors..." At that, we looked at each other and laughed, realizing I had accidentally quoted a lyric.

"Yeah...we've got lots of experience with that..."

"F-ks sake, remember when we nearly got kicked out of the Plaza?"

"How could I forget?" he snickered.

"Paul fought with them for like half an hour to convince them to let us stay. He said the bed must've already been broken when we checked in. Mate, he still has no f-king clue how we broke it." Z pursed his lips in a way that let me know he remembered very vividly. He should have anyway, since he was the reason it broke in the first place. The moment the frame came crashing down, the concierge was at our door within minutes. I guess standing on the bed and f-king against the headboard wasn't the brightest idea he'd ever had, and I was stupid for going along with it. He was reckless with the hotel rooms sometimes, and we'd left our mark on many.

"Thin walls..." was all he muttered, shaking his head. I laughed and put my glasses on, watching him pull out of the long drive towards Roscomare Rd. He was doing relatively well with the manual, compared to some of my past jaunts with him in the UK. It had been rough going a few times we were out together, to the point where I'd make him pull over and switch seats with me, much to his chagrin. It always resulted in us fighting by the time we got where we were going, and I hoped this ride wouldn't result in the same-since this was a fresh start for us and he seemed eager to impress me with the stick.

Now a few blocks from home, he glanced around the neighborhood and shook his head at the obscene wealth that surrounded us. Kissing his teeth, he remarked,

"G's dad lives not too far from here."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm. The house she grew up in..." He shook his head again in a way that said sheesh. "F-kin' insane, Haz. Like...royalty."

"Really?" I grinned. "You married rich, huh? No fooking way..."

"Couldn't pick me jaw up off the floor the entire time I was there. I'd never seen a house that big before. Bigger than both mine combined. Seriously... mind-blowing. Even the old furniture and the yard and the paintings. He's done a lot of them paintings. "

"Mohammed, right?"

"Yeah, he's mad talented...from what I can tell. And he's pretty cool, from what I've heard of him soh far. His art is really cool anyweh..."

"So he's like an artist-artist? That's really sick."

"Broh...I thought we were well off after the band...but his f-kin' bedroom and closet-the square feet are as big as my entire house. The LA house, anyweh. Much bigger."