chapter fifteen (let's play a game; find which section laura wrote. whoever wins gets a dedication on the next part and a follow if i'm not already following you. you only get one guess so make it good.)

N.J.H.

"Louis, she was literally Nicki Minaj. Walked in, boobs and baggage all out, flirty smile, constant winks, she made me want to vomit on Harry's expensive carpet."

Louis nods as I continue to rant about Megan. He's making some kind of pasta he fell in love with at this restaurant the other day and I'm just talking his ear off. It's a relaxed night, Harry and I talked for a long time after hours and we stayed far away from the topic of Megan.

"What did she do when she figured out you two were gay for each other?"

"Well first off, she walked out on Harry almost shoving his tongue down my throat, which is pretty good for me, but..."

"But what?"

I don't want to admit this to Louis, because walking into the situation I felt much more confident than I'm feeling right now. Her 'sexuality never stopped me' comment somewhat concerned me. I'm positive that Harry only has feelings for me, but we've never really discussed his sexuality. Sure he likes guys, but what if he's bisexual?

The thought of it makes me nauseous, but it intrigues me that I literally had to force myself to change my sexuality for him to have me, but we haven't even mentioned his own.

"Niall?"

"Huh?" I shake my head and look up at Louis, who looks a tad confused at my zoning out. I shrug and he nods, turning around to stir his noodles. I fiddle with my hands anxiously and look over at my phone. Should I call him?

No don't you dimwit, he'll think you're a stalker.

You've never even called him though, so how would you be considered a stalker?

I snort and pick up my phone, unlocking it and scrolling through my contacts. My finger hovers over Harry's contact name (which is just 'Harry' for now) and I try to force myself to press the little phone icon next to himself.

"God I hate myself..." I mutter.

"Niall don't say that. That's only something The Wanted can say about themselves." Louis scolds me and slides a plate of food in front of me. I roll my eyes and set my phone down next to the plate, taking up eating ver calling Harry.

I sigh, remembering I need to check on my grandmother in the retirement home. She is my best friend and she took care of me most of the time as a child when my dad wouldn't be around. I remember her rose garden; it was absolutely gorgeous. Roses are my favorite flowers, me being a hopeless romantic. She played music on the recorded player and we used to do the swing all day long. We danced all the time, feeling the rhythm in our bodies, though I was always the better dancer. Thinking of my nan makes me wonder what she'd think of Harry. A smile emerges on my face solely from imagining Harry meeting my grandmother.

If we even got that far in our involvement with each other, it would definitely be incredible. I remember the day my grandpa died, and the depression my nan had endured through whilst taking care of me. I've always promised myself to do the same for her, to take care of her and keep her involved in my life.

Hopefully Harry can be a part of that life.

"Niall hey you haven't eaten a thing...you okay?" Louis sits down on the stool next to me and I nod, eating my food just to satisfy him.

"Just thinkin' about nan..." I say.

"Hey, Thanksgiving is coming up, isn't it? You'll see her then."

"I know," I drag my fork around my plate, "It's just that--"

My phone begins to blast Partition and vibrate and I glance at Louis, knowing he changed my ringtone.

"What?" He whines, "It's your special Harry ringtone. Y'know because you--"

I shoo him away and pick up the phone, waving my fork in the air.

"Niall isn't here right now," I say cheekily, "He's watching Louis dance on a pole--"

Louis cuts me off by slapping my cheek; hard. I laugh nonetheless and give him a final push.

"Well that's a shame, I figured you'd be the pole dancer."

My jaw drops and I blush at his filthy words.

"I..."

"Speechless?"

"Why did you call, Harry?" I say, any cockiness I had growing in me now completely gone.

"I was just going to ask if tomorrow, after work...uh..."

He sounds nervous and I'm pretty sure he's fiddling with his fingers. I wait patiently for him to continue his sentence.

"Niall do you wanna come by my house after work tomorrow? For a date?"

My throat runs dry and my skin is on fire, all because Harry asked me on a date. I nod frantically to respond to his question, and I don't realize he won't be able to see me nod.

"I...yeah Harry, I'll go on a date with you."

"Oh thank god..." he sighs in relief, "I thought you were going to hang up."

"Oh no," I say, "I was nodding my head thinking you could see me through the phone."

"That's kind of adorable."

"Shut it. What are we going to be doing on this date?"

"Hey, chill out. You'll figure out when we get there."

"Aw," I whine, "You mean I have to wait a full twenty-four hour period to figure out what we're doing for our date?"

"Yeah, yep yep."

Harry is shuffling around a lot and stifling down coughs and strange sounds. Suddenly I realize what's happening; the whining is turning him on.

"Hey Harry," I say in the same voice, "What are you doing right now?"

"Niall," he says wearily, "Why do you you keep uh... whining?"

"I dunno," I whispers, "Maybe because I know it's making you squirm."

"I swear to god if you were here right now--"

"I'm gonna sleep..." I yawn, "I'll see you tomorrow at work."

"Niall I hate you."

"Think of me when you jack off," I whine again before hanging up quickly and laughing gleefully. I have a date, and I turned Harry on without even trying. Somehow this is a huge accomplishment to me. I smile, lock my phone and click my heels together because blonde bitches have nothing on the king.

•

H.E.S.

Niall steps in my car foot by foot after a long (longer than usual) day of work. He smiles and I lean over the dashboard to kiss him.

"How was your wank session last night?" he asks and I'm caught off guard. Niall is usually never this endearing, but all it does is excite me.

"It was great," I answer, "Would've been better with you around though."

He smiles and nods in agreement,

"Yeah I know."

I start the engine and soon enough we're driving away to my house. I'm feeling jubilated for tonight, and I'm looking forward to a night that finally doesn't involve sexual relations. As I drive us to our destination I look over at Niall, who doesn't have his hair quiffed up for once, and instead has is lower over his forehead. I also notice he changed into a pair of black sweatpants and a Connor Franta crewneck.

"You watch YouTubers?" I ask, pointing at his shirt. Quite rude of me to point, but I don't pay any attention to it.

"Oh, yeah Louis is in love with Connor Franta," he says, tugging at his shirt, "He's a bit obsessed though. He got me this for my birthday in September. I only wear it because I know he meant well."

"That's nice," I compliment him, "I'm not really into it, but I'd buy that. It looks..."

"Stylish?"

"No pun intended."

"My god!" He hits my arm and I laugh quietly, "I wasn't even going to say that! I--oh my god you have completely ruined any chance of you being funny. Any chance you just had is gone now; it doesn't exist."

We're practically dying now, Niall clutching his chest and me trying not to drive off the road.

"Okay okay, get ready, we'll be arriving soon."

•

N.J.H.

I vaguely remember Harry's house. The last time I was here I was suffering from almost-pneumonia. It's definitely huge, spacy, and Harry's room has little lights all over the walls because he hates sleeping in the dark (which doesn't turn me off in any way; I like the hint of naïvety).

"Welcome back..." he says with a smile, "Now get your cute ass into my house."

He pinches my butt and I gasp, jumping out of my seat. He smirks and I roll my eyes, stepping out of his car and walking up to the front door.

"So..." he says, "I'm gonna just make us dinner and then we can just watch movies?"

"Sure," I say as he reaches over my shoulder to unlock the door, "That's fine."

"You sure?" He asks again, "I just want to make sure because if you want to do something else we can do it--"

"Harry! Holy shit it's fine," I laugh, "as long as I'm with you it's fine."

Harry grins and opens the door, welcoming me into his abundant home. I see he's redecorated a bit, the living room walls are a peach color instead of the original dark red.

"What happened?" I inquire, "Redecorating?"

"Remember last time you came here, you said it looked very depressing?"

Of all the things I remember from that day, that isn't one of them. I nod anyway.

"Well since then I've had the place repainted."

"It definitely looks less depressing," I nod, "Excellent job Styles. Five stars."

Harry places his stuff on the ground and I do the same before sitting down on the couch.

"So who's cooking?" I ask. Harry points to himself and I'm astonished.

"You cook?"

"That's a question you'll never ask again once I'm finished," he says, "Now come here and sit."

I sit at the island counter and he goes upstairs to change. I look around Harry's kitchen and I realize my 'you cook?' question was the stupidest thing I have ever said in my life.

Harry's kitchen looks more like a gourmet kitchen than a common one. Recipe books are poking out in every corner of the room, pots and pans are hanging from every wall, and don't even get me started on the baking materials. Harry obviously takes cooking seriously.

"Hey, so I'm gonna make salt roasted chicken, that okay with you?"

I look over at him and my jaw drops because chicken isn't the only thing that's roasted right now. Harry's prominent abs are staring right at me, along with a pair of maroon sweatpants hanging low on his waist.

"Niall?"

"Yeah yeah salt roasted abs--"

I cover my mouth, embarrassed as Harry begins to chuckle.

"It's quite alright babe, you want me to put on a shirt?"

"NO!" I scream, "KEEP YOURSELF JUST LIKE THAT!"

He cackles and I can't keep myself from laughing along with him at this point. Harry quiets down his laughter and begins to pull out things to make us dinner.

"You wanna know something?"

"Maybe?"

"People used to date me just for my cooking."

"Is that your way of telling me that you're a great chef?"

"Nope, just something to keep your guilty conscience running just in case you end up dating me just for the food."

"I love food but I'm not insensitive."

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Harry, what the hell are we doing?"

"You tell me!"

"No, bitch."

"Good."

"Good."

"Fine."

"Fi--HARRY!"

He laughs as he pulls out a couple knives, leaning in to grab my hands and kiss my forehead after placing them on the counter.

"I'm kidding babe," he says, "Now sit back and watch your man make you a great dinner."

I blush when he says 'your man' and I sit back and watch him work his magic. I feel like Harry doesn't know that when he's in the kitchen, he may just be the most natural he'll ever be. He's cheeky, giggly, and in the month and a half I've known him, I've never seen him smile so wide.

"Can I ask you something?" I say as he's glazing the chicken.

"Yeah? Ask away."

"Have you ever felt as happy as you are when you're in the kitchen?"

"Well when I'm with you I feel pretty joyful," he says, making me flush, "But if I had to compare it to something else, it would be cooking. Why?"

"Maybe that's why people date you 'for your cooking' as you put it. You're completely stripped of your professional aura and I personally feel as if I'm seeing the true Harry Styles when he's cooking."

He stops his movements and smiles at me.

"You know, I like you for a reason. I think I just confirmed it."

I beam back at him and he slips our dinner in the oven.

"Thank you by the way," he continues, "For coming with me here."

"Of course," I say, "Wouldn't pass this up for the world."

He grins and looks down at the floor as my heart flutters.

•

Dinner was incredible, as we both predicted. Afterwards we were on the couch watching every movie Harry owned. Well, not really, because by the time we got up, washed dishes, had a huge water fight (I lost), and changed, it was eleven o'clock, an hour from midnight.

So instead of movies, we wiped out on the couch; until I woke up with another nightmare at three in the morning. I tried to stay quiet as I walked up to the bathroom, prepared for the same routine that always follows after a nightmare. Vomiting, incapability of moving, and getting something to drink before I pass out.

Now I'm back downstairs after getting sick, entering the kitchen, wondering if I can get a cup of tea in this maze of a room.

"Looking for something?"

I jump slightly from fright and shut the cabinet I have open quickly. Harry is standing behind me, one hand running through his long hair and another rubbing his tired eyes.

"Did I wake you up--"

"Niall. I asked you if you were looking for something. I can get it for you."

I gulp and look to the ground.

"A cup of tea, please?"

"Sure."

Harry turns and opens the cabinet next to the doorway, taking out a box of what looks like Yorkshire tea.

"You like Yorkshire?" he asks. I nod and he turns on the kettle to a high fire, placing the box next to the stove.

"Sorry I woke you up..." I say.

"You're fine," he says, "You woke me when you went upstairs."

My cheeks burn a crimson color,

"So you--"

"You don't have to talk about you getting sick. I just can't help but notice that this happened in LA, at the exact same time; three am. You wake up abruptly, heavy breathing, cold skin, then you go and vomit and find something to drink."

I sigh and nod, twisting my fingers around.

"Niall is something wrong?"

"I really don't want to talk about it Harry."

"Just tell me if it's something medically serious. I don't want you getting sick or worst case scenario, dying."

"I promise you," I say, "it's just nightmares."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Will you tell me if something gets worse?"

I nod and he picks me up by the waist, setting me down on the counter.

"You'll be okay?"

"Always."