Spotlight |h.s|

Six

Harry Styles

"I can't believe that wasn't a joke." Zayn references to the whole PR thing from the back seat of my car, "I thought the pictures had to be photoshopped or something. You didn't even talk about it all week."

"Well, yeah, I wanted a minute of peace before having to go somewhere with her after work." I state the obvious, gripping the steering wheel and heading to her house.

"This is bullshit." Louis rolls his eyes from the passenger seat.

"You're not the one that has to pretend to date her. Try being me." I defend with a head shake.

"You guys are talking about her like she's some disease," Zayn is obviously aggravated, "I'm sure she's nice."

"Her cat threw up on me last night." I tell him.

"That has nothing to do with what I just said." He gives me a look.

"This girl has a cat?" Louis squints, "Another thing to hate about her. Cat people suck."

"They do not." Zayn disagrees.

I don't pitch in on this. I've never had a pet. I can't form a real opinion on it.

"They do, too. They're always antisocial and fucking weird." Louis turns to look at him.

"Aubrey is neither of those things." He defends.

"How many times have you even spoken to her to know that?"

"She seems nice." He shrugs.

"Harry, prove him wrong, come on." Louis looks at me.

"She's a bitch. Being around her so much makes me miserable."

"She's a bitch to you because you're mean to her." Zayn defends.

"Then why does she give me dirty looks at work?" Louis asks.

"Because you just follow whatever Harry says. You also make gross comments on her body."

"You act like you defend her when we say shit to her." Louis shakes his head.

"Oh, fuck off." He finally doesn't have a comeback.

I turn up the music as a signal for them to stop arguing, that not lasting long before Louis turns it back down.

"I'm talking, dickwad." He speaks to me, making me clench the steering wheel harder. This night is already going to be torture. I don't need this.

"Not anymore you're not, asshat." I turn it up again, keeping my hand on the knob this time so he can't change the volume.

We make it to her house without me driving us off a bridge or anything, driving through the gates after I type the code that I now have memorized. This is my fourth time pulling in here.

"This is so weird." Louis says after the gates open.

"Tell me about it." I agree.

I pull into her driveway, the now familiar old white house with the dark door coming into view.

"Hm," Louis observes it, "Not what I expected from
her."

"You haven't seen the inside." I add to his confusion, "Green couch, paintings all over, yellow kitchen, and a hallway of bookshelves. I haven't even seen the whole thing."

I discuss the colors like I can tell what they are in the first place. I didn't even know the couch was green until she said it was her favorite color. I see my colorblindness as a weakness, so I don't really talk about it. I don't know why I told her so quickly.