The minute she hit the send button she wished she could take it back. But, just like Harry's Instagram like, somethings  you simply couldn't.

Like telling Harry she loved him on their last weekend together.

It wasn't the first time she felt it. She's been swallowing the words like a jagged little pill for months. She'd embraced the feeling when they were in Barcelona, she was a woman in love, so she wore it like a mantle. Everything about the experience felt magical, but, when she returned to her real life and Harry to tour, things continued just as they had since she let Harry kiss her that first time after months of obvious innuendo. The boy was cheeky and flirty on a good day, but irresistible when he was trying. And so she didn't resist, but had she guarded her heart a little maybe it wouldn't be broken and so slow to mend.

When their lips met she learned all of those cliches about electricity and sparks and stars getting in your eyes were true. Her stomach and the bottom dropped out. When his large decorated hands had cupped her face she never wanted to stop and when he'd clutched her throat, the rush of blood to her core meant she wouldn't.

She wasn't a virgin, but her experience had been limited. Limitless better described how she felt when he touched her. She probably fell that first night.

The ground was hard when she hit it and she was sure she'd bruised her ass when Harry gave her his rules of engagement. 'Harry's rules' as they became emblazoned in her mind were simple. When it was convenient and easy they would hang out, he didn't expect her to be faithful, but if she had a partner between their trysts, they'd use a condom until she got tested again, if she met someone, the arrangement ended. Same rules for him. Laurel was surprised every time he didn't open the little drawer by his bed when they reunited. She'd had one other partner since beginning with him and the very attractive hipster of a boy did such an amazing job of illustrating what she was not missing, she never bothered again.

When they were available they fit like a zipper, and it was so good to be embedded with him that Laurel could overlook his cavalier attitude. It was always after he left, again, that she'd remember that while he seemed to truly like her, he didn't know her. Basic facts escaped him, she wasn't sure Harry even knew her middle name. He certainly didn't know anything about her family. That her sister had died when she was 11 in a car accident. Or that her parents were in love with one another, but divorced.

Despite this, she knew her feelings for him were unlikely to fade quickly. He was inescapable. Even when she tried to ignore his stupid face, his dimples showed up on her screen, let alone their mark on her heart. Laurel wasn't even sure she wanted to erase the way she felt. Being with Harry felt like the first Time she had Ziplined, heart pumping, exhilarating, free.

The first time she had to physically stop her mouth to halt her confession. They were sitting in a parked car outside Harry's marketing manager's country estate. He'd been avoiding going in. It was an expected band function. Someone with connections had a daughter with a major 1D jones. They hadn't done many of these private events since the early days, but the favor that Simon would have in his pocket after today was apparently to good. So, they were summoned with the promise of a handsome reward. Though the boys had more autonomy these days, Harry and crew still knew where their bread was buttered.

"I'd so much rather be spending this day, well, anywhere but here really, especially if you were there!" He cheesed her way and bopped her nose and was generally being so obnoxious she laughed in his face.

"You laughing at me?" He asked as he pulled her his across center console into his lap and tickled her until she was screaming and snorting in the ugliest fashion she could imagine. She hated her braying laugh.

He stopped abruptly when the snorting started. Once she caught her breath, Laurel wiped at her nose, "oh god, did I snot too?"

"No, that laugh just might be my favorite sound."

The late afternoon sunlight made the blue rim of his iris shine and she felt the words she'd been denying bubbling up her throat. To stop herself, she covered her mouth and made big eyes at him before she kissed him and made a joke. "You know what my favorite sound is?" Mischief played in her eyes.

"My laugh, the ding of a text message you've been expecting from me, hearing me on radio, my morning voice?" Harry knew he was being an ass and was loving it.

"The sound of your snores when you finally shut up at night," she feigned relief.

"I don't snore!" Harry vehemently denied.

"Oh, you do, loudly! But, it's still preferable to your other sounds, especially what you call singing!"
Oh, she loved his offended face. "Kidding, baby, kidding," and she kissed him once again before cracking his door open.

"Hey, where you going?" He made grabby for her.

"I'm going inside, and look, I'm not even getting paid to!" She teased.

Once inside, she kept her distance and her hands to herself. Everyone knew they were friends, but Harry had a lot of friends.

The second time Laurel nearly shouted out her feelings, Harry'd agreed to come to a house party with her and she couldn't believe it. Their "dates" nearly always took place between his four walls, usually between his two sheets, so when she asked about the party, it was mostly to confirm he suspicions about her place in his life and heart. But he said yes and they planned out their couples costume with giddy giggles. It was really easy to procure his Kermit costume online and she really only needed a pig nose and wig. She had s dress from her mom's youth that had at least 4 ruffles over the top.

The costume allowed Harry a bit of anonymity and she knew he loved fancy dress a bit more than the average person. She was fairly certain it was why he'd agreed. The inside joke was to fun to pass up. Laurel had given Harry the moniker of Kermie one morning when he'd croaked out a greeting, his eyes had been glued shut with sleep and his dimples widened his puffy sleepy face.

"Oh my God! You really do look like a frog," she hiccuped out after laughing for 3 minutes straight.

Harry had turned into the bed sheets and pouted like the younger sibling he very much was until she had given his an "I'm sorry" blowie and promised him pancakes. However, the nickname had stuck, much to Harry's displeasure.

Laurel was so chuffed that he'd come out, she didn't notice his slow withdrawal. Late that night, after many drinks he'd asked her to follow him up to the roof.

"Harry, baby, what's wrong?" She asked as he immediately pulled off his mask and sucked in a breath.

"Haven't been able to breathe properly in at least an hour. It's hot in there. Whew." He blew out a big breath and she watched his chest eapand as he sucked one in.

"Why are we up here then, we can go. I just need to find my purse," she fidgeted and turned back to the door.

"No, just let me cool off. I know we are trying to avoid detection, and we never get to go anywhere together. I like seeing you with your friends," he touched her bottom lip and smoothed his thumb up the growing smile. "They're funny. I like them. Tom'a got it bad for you by the way."

"You jealous?" Laurel laughed, how ludicrous.

"No, maybe a little, he's a bit handsy. I don't really like it."

"Harry..." she trailed off.

"I know, I have no right," he interrupted her search for words.

"You gave no right, but you also have nothing to worry about," Laurel returned.

"Yeah, why's that?"

She wanted to say, 'because I love you, you idiot'. But, instead she made a joke. "I've seen him eat, trust me, the thought of spending 50 years watching that across a table put me right off," then she grinned at him, "he goes tongue first and I'm not interested in teaching another baby bird how to kiss."

He rose to her bait and gave her his offended face, "I'll show you how to kiss," and they wound up making love on the roof with all their clothes on because of the chill.

But for the times she felt compelled to confess her feelings, when she felt like a girlfriend and not just a fuck, were the times she was sure she was just an option.

He'd go months at a time without a text. They could have plans for sometime in advance and he'd change them on a dime. Laurel would like to think it was for Work things, but he was to public a person for her to labor under that delusion to often.

But, the most telling thing was how one-sided their arrangement was. Harry called the shots, always jos terms, always his place, always his convenience. She was his beck and call girl. His favorite perhaps, but not his only.

That last weekend, Laurel's been emotional before she got there. Her mother was sick and he'd been away for what felt like forever. She felt funny, like her body wasn't her own. Tired and weepy.

They had a good time, but he hadn't noticed her red eyes or sallow skin. As they wrapped themselves around each other early Sunday morning, he'd been sweet and gentle, full of praise. It felt so much like love making and her walls before him were so gossamer that she'd let the words slip out when she came undone.

"I love you," she'd whispered on a quiet harsh exhalation.

Laurel had seen his eyes widen, but he'd just buried his face in her neck and pushed into her deeper. Though their bodies remained connected, her heart broke. She'd held her tears until he'd fallen asleep and left while he showered.

She couldn't do this anymore, the reasons kept piling up.
Laurel had cried herself out at first and wanted to bash his face in when he sent her that Kermit gif.

She needed to move on, she couldn't be spending her life falling deeper in love with him if he couldn't tell her that he loved her too.

But here she was, texting him at 2 am while Willy, who took her out, showed her off, and asked her questions about herself like he needed to take notes, slept in her bed.

Laurel could see that he'd read her message and her heart stopped when the gray bubble appeared.