Chapter 13

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Camila decided it was time to face the music. So that Sunday she got on the subway and headed uptown to Queens.

Harry's apartment was in a relatively nice neighborhood. He shared it with some guy named Louis, whom Camila  had never really met.

At the front steps, she hesitated before pushing the button that would announce her arrival. Harry wasn't expecting her, and she hoped he wasn't busy.

"Yeah?" came a voice through the intercom.

Camila didn't recognize it as her brother's so she guessed it was Louis.

"Uh, hi. My name is Camila Cabello. I'm here to see Harry."

There was a pause and then a beeping noise announcing the door was unlocked. She stepped inside, making sure to shut the door behind her. Harry's apartment was on the second floor, so she headed in that direction.

Harry was waiting for her when Camila walked up.

"Camila ," he said, sounding surprised. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Am I interrupting?" Camila  asked, worried she'd come at a bad time.

"No, no," Harry assured her, stepping aside. "Come in."

The apartment was small. One bedroom, one bathroom, one kitchen that doubled as a living room. Camila found herself wondering where Harry's roommate slept, though she was starting to get the idea.

Camila stared at the wall for a moment as she noticed one of her paintings framed and proudly displayed. She remembered that painting. She'd given it to Harry when he'd moved out. It was of the family on one side and Harry on the other, with the moon at top center, uniting the two.

"You still have that," she said, surprised.
Harry smiled beside her. "Of course," he responded,

"It's gonna be worth millions some day."

Camila grinned at her brother.

Louis appeared in front of her a moment later. He smiled as he offered his hand.

"Louis Tomlinson ," he said, smiling brightly.

Camila shook his hand and smiled back.

"Nice to meet you." He wasn't exactly what she'd expected. For one, he wasn't Italian. More like the all-English type. Brownish hair, blue eyes, soccer boy tan.

And he didn't really seem gay at all. Then again, neither did Harry.

"Want anything to drink?" Louis offered.

"No thanks," Camila replied.

Harry led her to the living room/kitchen and offered her a seat on the ratty old couch he'd found on the sidewalk somewhere.

Camila watch the two guys sit down at the kitchen table in front of her. They stared at her expectantly and she decided it would be best for her to begin.

"I came to see how you were doing," she said to Harry.

"We haven't really talked since ... you know." She wasn't entirely sure what to call it.

Harry shrugged. "I've been fine," he responded.

"It's not like I wasn't expecting that kind of reaction." He watched her for a moment. "How are they doing with it?"

Camila shook her head. "It's now a taboo subject," she replied. "Nathan brought you up at dinner on Friday and Carlos snapped. They're definitely not coping well."

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