17: Shaping A Human Being

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Day 2 of Harry at the Walsh's will be on the next update.

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Harry makes room as I step into the hallway, closing the door behind me. He's taken the pullover off, leaving the white undershirt on, his tattoos visible now.

"I'm sorry. . ." he trails off, eyes unsure. "Did I make you upset?" 

I shake my head. "No. I—" I walk back towards my bedroom, him on my trail, "It's me."

He doesn't react to the cliché, his face remaining serious with brows furrowed and lips in a straight line, waiting for me to go on.

"It's the voices," I tap my temple, adding in humor in an attempt to divert the topic.

He smirks but still doesn't bite. I keep my lips pursed. After a pause, he relents. "It's okay. Don't tell me if you aren't comfortable."

"It's not that," I say, knowing full well that I am comfortable with him, "it's just. . ." I shrug, at a loss for words.

"It's okay."

I involuntarily smile at the sound of his chuckle. He sits on the floor by my bed while I go lay on it. "Find any good movies yet?"

"Nope," he answers, popping the 'p,' and adds, "But I did find a folder with a variety of pictures—" He doesn't finish, laughing loudly at the look on my face. "That was a bluff, but thanks for confirming."

I instinctively smack his arm, surprising myself. To cover it up, I take the laptop and scan through the lists, a light bulb pinging in my head. I type in the title and when the search results are pulled up, I show the screen to him.

"How about this? Eh?" I suggest, wiggling my eyebrows.

It takes him a second to react, a face-splitting grin taking over his face. "Ah, no! No!"

I throw my head back laughing, shoulders bobbing. "What? I heard it was a great movie. Lots of cussing—'fuck' was used multiple times I believe—and an amazing director, of course."

"I am not going to watch myself for almost two hours," he says in-between chuckles, the corner of his eyes crinkling. "No way. But I've got an idea." He holds his hands out for the laptop and I push it closer to him.

He takes it, typing furiously on the keyboard and a goofy smile on his face. Then he flips it around, showing me the screen, the video already ten seconds in. Me, dramatically singing along to Sign Of The Times, in the recreating pictures of him video I uploaded.

I have never cringed so hard.

"Turn that off!" I screech, leaping over to him.

He turns away from me, the laptop with him. "Now I especially enjoy you swiveling with the chair." The sound of his voice is nothing but full of teasing.

I start hearing my voice and my lips immediately pull back in a grimace. "Ew! Ew! Ewww!"

I absolutely adore Harry Styles.

His brows raise.

I used to spend my time reading Harry Styles fanfiction, it really shaped me as a human being.

Harry snorts, pausing the video. "Care to tell me which ones shaped you as a human being?"

"Stop," I drawl, failing to hide my laughter.

He clicks on the screen.

Brandon, how do you feel about Harry Styles? I hear myself and immediately relax and chuckle, knowing where it's headed.

Brandon replies: I think he's a pretty cool dude, honestly.

Are you attracted to him?

Without missing a beat, Brandon answers: Yeah, I'd probably date him.

Harry's cheeks turn pink as he bites his lower lip. "Alright . . ." he trails off before clicking to another part of the video.

"Now every time you see Brandon, you're gonna think about that exact moment." I close my eyes and spread my arms sideways.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm manifesting it."

I open one eye just in time to see him stick his tongue out at the smug look on my face.

'Cause he's just so cute in this. Like, I just wanna (loud smacking noises). Sigh. God, I hate him.

He guffaws, and ten pounds of shame crawl up my skin. Jesus Christ.

"Okay, enough," I snatch the laptop from him and place it beside me, exiting the tab. He keeps the huge smile on his face, his dimple showing. "Quit smiling," I grumble, my heart pounding in my chest.

A yawn escapes him.

"You should get some rest," I tell him, noticing it's getting dark outside. I stand up and place the laptop on my bedside table. He stands up too. "Where are you going?"

"The couch," he blinks.

"No," I chuckle at his unassuming nature, "stay here. I'll stay in Claudia's room."

"I hope it's no trouble."

"It's not. Now get some sleep!" I tell him, tone stern.

He gives me a lopsided smile, a soft look on his face. "Night."

"If you get hungry in the middle of the night or something, just rummage through the fridge or the pantry, or cupboard."

He nods, his eyes drooping and another yawn escaping. "Thank you for your hospitality."

An involuntary smile takes over my face as his utterance of the words starts to slow, a telltale sign of his fatigue. "Good night, Harry."

His sleepy grin is the last thing I see before I shut the door behind me. I head over to the kitchen to grab something to eat myself.

"She's finally come out of hiding," Brandon says, grabbing the box of cereal again. He really knows no limits of when to eat his cereal huh?

"Ha-ha. You're screwed."

"What? Why?" I don't respond, only laughing to myself, which I know bothers him more. "Kennedy, I swear you'll be Ned the whole time he's here if you don't tell me."

The threat is effective. "He's seen that video of you saying you're attracted to him and you'd probably date him."

He laughs that high pitched laugh of his. "Seriously? And? What'd he say?"

"Said he'd date you too," I watch his reaction, "Brandon why the fuck do you look so hopeful?"

"Oh."

"Brandon, no, he was just so flustered." We both chuckle, the image in our heads the same, for sure.

"How is it so far?"

"Nope," I pack my sandwiches hastily, eager to leave the kitchen. "No way," I break into a smile before finishing, "We are not doing the talk. It's disgusting."

"Kenned—" he doesn't finish too, chuckling, "I'm not giving you the talk. That's Dad's job."

"Good."

Brandon smirks. "Use condo—"

"You're so fucking gross."

I leave the kitchen, sandwiches on a plate, and head to Claudia's room.

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