Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

21: Sealfish

Day 3, part 2!

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There was something about the way Harry was sitting that I couldn't quite get. I erase a curve and draw a new one, cocking my head to the side in confusion.

"What are you doing?" He asks, craning his neck to get a better view of my sketchpad.

I tilt it away from him. "Just a random sketch."

"Random, huh?"

A smirk is on his face, a subtle call-out on my lie. He's probably noticed me looking at him then at my sketchpad multiple times. "Random," I say sternly, "what are you doing?"

"Just strumming random tunes," he shrugs, throwing a sideways glance at me with a knowing look plastered on his features. His fingers continue plucking at the strings.

I don't engage, choosing to shake my head instead and resume sketching, my lips curved upward. He lets out a low chuckle at my stubbornness. I hear him shuffling and so I look up, just in time to see him scooting closer to me.

Okay . . . what is he doing?

Eyes on me, he nibbles on his lower lip.

"What?" I chuckle nervously. Harry takes a deep breath, looking so unsure of himself that it makes my heart hurt a little. "Spit it out, popstar. You're making me nervous."

"I like you," he blurts.

I freeze up, wishing I hadn't heard him right. Every nerve ending in my body goes into a panic, making me feel everything and nothing at the same time. I don't know how to explain it. It's like skydiving—not that I'd tried it, but it's what I imagine it to be like—feeling the wind against your face but being numb because of the adrenaline.

Harry's still looking at me, waiting for a response. I'm a hundred percent sure my decision is written all across my face and just as I move to stand up and flee, Harry talks again, panic in his eyes. "And I—I'd appreciate it if we could discuss it."

I halt my movements, hesitant. What do I even say? What do we even talk about? What does he even like about me? I'm just Kennedy. I'm not a model, not a singer, not anyone. I make videos for a living and—I try my hardest to cut my train of thought, already knowing the dangerous path it's heading towards.

Fuck it. 

I sit back down.

The relief in his face is visible. He fiddles his thumbs, gaze averted. My heart is still racing, so I reach for a pillow and hug it close to my chest, the action calming my nerves for a bit.

We take a deep breath at the same time, heads snapping towards each other in surprise. We chuckle.

"So," he shifts.

"So," I parrot, my voice breaking a bit to which I clear my throat.

The corner of his lips rises slightly. "So I like you."

"I heard you the first time."

"And your first instinct was to leave?" Humor filled Harry's voice, as well as a tinge of disappointment and sadness. I force myself to really look at him, catching him already staring intently at me.

"This is making me uncomfortable," I say, tense, not knowing what the right thing to do or say is.

Regret flashes in his eyes as he stumbles over his words. "Sorry—I—I don't mean to make you feel that way. We could just—let's just forget I said that. I—"

"Harry," I cut him off, "it's okay. We . . . might as well get it over with."

The regret and sadness don't leave his face and I feel a ton of guilt run through me. Okay, maybe running at the first sight of his infatuation wasn't a good move—as well as telling him we should 'get it over with' like his feelings were a simple thing we could easily brush off.