A/N: first, let's just appreciate the detail on Harry's suit. Okay, keep reading sorry

The next morning I wake up to the sound of Harry shuffling about the room, apparently packing up his things. I'm not mad, but like, why would he be up in here making so much noise at this ungodly hour? It just doesn't make sense, especially when Harry was as drunk as he was last night. Whenever I get that bad, I sleep for like an entire day, so I genuinely don't understand how Harry is functioning right now.

Stretching my legs beneath the sheets of this warm, cozy bed, I force my eyes open and groan at the blinding light that is blasting through the windows. Harry laughs softly at me as I turn over in bed and envelope myself in a sort of blanket burrito as my last effort to hold on to the sleep that has just slipped away from me. Oh well, I suppose I don't need it all that much; I don't feel entirely like death, so I think I'll be fine.

"Did you sleep well?" Harry asks me from what I assume is the bathroom.

I peak up at him through the sheets and see that he is unfortunately fully clothed. But I guess if he's going to be wearing anything, I'm glad it's those frat boy, light-wash jeans of his with a plaid flannel button-down. He looks like a sexy lumberjack when he does that, and I'm kind of living for it.

"Yeah. I could honestly sleep more, though."

Harry grins with an amused look about him as he styles his hair in the mirror. "Really? I was surprised you slept as long as you did."

"Wait, what? What time is it?" I prop myself up in the bed and take my phone from the side table to see that it is nearly noon.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I've wasted my time sleeping when I could have been getting beignets again? What an idiotic thing to do.

"Damn, Harry. I'm so sorry. You could have woken me up earlier." If i'm annoyed with myself for my excessive laziness, then surely Harry has been, too.

Raking his hand through his hair one last time, Harry turns his attention away from his reflection in the mirror and comes to sit down on the bed next to me. He smiles pleasantly at me, and that cute little dimple in his cheek makes its first appearance of the day. The cut on his face is obviously still there and still looks painful as fuck, but Harry's cuteness seems to override any pain he might be feeling to put off just a very pleasant and beautiful vibe. Honestly, I don't think I could come close to replicating an aura like Harry's even if I tried.

"I didn't mind," Harry says brightly, looking down on me with those enchanting green eyes of his. He looks so light and happy this morning that it really is hard to believe that all that shit happened last night. The only reason I even remembered it just now is because of the marks on Harry's face. Other than that though, it feels as if everything has been resolved very nicely and my doubts from before have been entirely silenced. Though this weekend has undoubtedly been a shit show, I'm thankful for it. I've learned so much in the last twenty-four hours, and I genuinely do believe that it was all for the good... for the most part, anyway.

"Well, still.. I feel bad that I slept the whole morning away." I force myself to sit up in the bed despite the fact that this is the very last thing I want to do. "Did you at least go get breakfast?"

Harry nods, "Yeah, Calvin and Gabrielle went to the cafe for breakfast and they brought me some beignets." Looking around the room for a moment, Harry points towards the white paper bag sitting on the TV stand. "I saved you one if you want it."

I know it's not like a huge deal that Harry did that, but for some reason, this action really strikes me deeply. Like, that's genuinely one of the sweetest things someone has ever done for me. I was the reason his didn't get to go in the first place, and even then, when his friends brought him some food so that he doesn't entirely miss out, he still thinks to set something aside for me. He's so thoughtful all the time, and really, it makes me feel like a lovesick idiot who can't think of anything but how great my man is... because that's what's happening right now. I'm smiling so wide and I have those pesky little butterflies in my stomach that you get when your crush pays attention to you, and honestly, it's a great feeling to wake up to. I feel cared for, and I genuinely couldn't be happier that Harry is the reason for it. I wish I could just tell him how much I love him, because he deserves to know.

After several moments of not answering him due to my brain just musing about how great Harry is, Harry looks at me confusedly, cocking his head to the side. His freshly styled hair falls in front of his face when he does this, heightening his already impressive levels of cuteness. "What is it? Do you not want it?"

"No, I do. I just– that was so thoughtful." I smile at Harry, and he smiles in return. "Thank you."

Harry shrugs and pushes his hair back, "I mean, I know you were probably wanting to get like six of them, but it's the best I could do given the circumstances."

I laugh, punching him lightly on the arm, "Stop it, you're making me sound like a pig."

Throwing his hands up in defense, Harry tries to suppress his smile, "Hey, your words, not mine."

Ha, I did tell Harry I intended to eat a shit ton of beignets in the car.

"I forgot I said that." Sighing in defeat, I recline back into the bed and stare at the ceiling. With this mattress beneath me, I really could use more sleep. After last night's emotional hurricane, I'm really interested in the idea of not having to think about any of it. Because up until now, I haven't really given last night much thought, but all the shit is slowly crawling its way back into my mind. I'm just dreading that inevitable feeling of embarrassment that's sure to plague me once I think about how ridiculously I perceived everything that happened.

Well, shit. Now I'm thinking about it, and it's ruining my good mood.

However, Harry distracts me from thoughts of last night as he looks down at me and gives me a playful nudge, which I assume means he wants me to scoot over. After I move towards the middle of the bed, Harry swings his denim-clad, long legs over the edge to lay beside me on his side. Reaching across my body, Harry brushes a cluster of hair away from my face with a pleasant look of admiration gleaming in his eyes.

"We have to go back today," Harry says quietly, shifting his eyes away from me to look at the weird abstract painting on the wall. I nod and look over at the strange picture, trying to make some sense of it but failing.

"I know," I sigh, wondering why that painting has a stick with a blob of paint at the end of it. It doesn't even look good, so I don't know what the artist was going for with that. "What time did you want to leave?"

"I was thinking that would could go somewhere for lunch and then head out. There's this really amazing place in the French Quarter that I want to take you to." Harry lightly flicks my arm, to which I turn my head to look into his eyes. "Is that something you would want to do?"

Nodding, I smile up at him, "Yeah, that sounds amazing. I can be ready to go in ten-ish minutes if you want?"

Harry raises his brow at me and amusedly laughs, "I highly doubt that, but yeah, you should probably pack up your things."

"Challenge accepted, Styles." I grin, sitting up in bed tossing the covers off of me. "Time me if you must."

With that, I begin to rather hurriedly get dressed and throw my shit in my bag. I don't feel like putting makeup on today, so I just put on a little mascara, fill in my brows, and call it a day there. Harry does, in fact, time me, and to his surprise, I am ready to go in under fifteen minutes.

Ha, take that boi.

Our lunch is rather uneventful, so I won't bore you with the details, though I will say that things between Harry and I seem completely back to normal. This whole trip has been nothing but a shit show, but looking at the two of us, no one would be able to tell.

When we finish lunch, which, by the way, consisted of the best blackened red snapper I've ever consumed in my entire life, Harry and I walk through New Orleans and pop in and out of several souvenir shops on our way back to the hotel. Though I really don't have a use for it, Harry buys me one of those really pretty black and purple Mardi Gras masks that has jewels and feathers on it. I hope Harry's fraternity has a masquerade party at some point next semester, because wearing this mask would be so cool. Harry assures me that he will do his best to make it happen, but he makes no promises.

We wonder into this vintage metal shop, and I find Harry lowkey obsessing over this one ring, so on the sly, I buy it for him before he can protest at all. He pretends to not want it, but that doesn't even last a minute before he concedes and slides it on his left ring-finger with just about the biggest smile I've ever seen.

All in all, it's a great morning, and the only thing we have to do is get Harry's truck from the valet and hit the road. Harry and I walk hand in hand down Bourbon Street towards our hotel, just taking in our surroundings. There are topless old women and people carrying around a fishbowl filled with some kind of mixed drink. I don't know about you, but that's not really the way I would choose to spend my Sunday. Oh well, the strangeness is definitely an entertainment to me, so I don't really mind.

After the long, yet pleasant walk back to the hotel, we are greeted with everyone on the trip standing around in the lobby. I notice that John is not among them, and neither is Alexa; I can't help but wonder if she is still with him. The thought makes me shutter, but I decide that it is none of my business whether she and John make up, so I'm not going to dwell on it. I mean, she shouldn't stay with him, but that's just my opinion.

Harry leads us over to where his friends are standing, and we talk with them for a little bit before Gabrielle joins us. She smiles at me, and for once, I don't try to read into it. I think she just might be genuinely pleased to see me, and that's an odd, yet relieving feeling that I don't think I've ever felt before when it comes to my prior interactions with her. It's amazing how different someone can seem to you when you're not trying to villainize them in your mind. Honestly, fuck John for trying to turn me against her, and lowkey, fuck everyone else for not telling me that she has been with Cal all this time. But that's beside the point. The point is that today is a good day, and all the conflict has been resolved quite wonderfully.

When Harry leaves to get his truck, Gabrielle and I get to talking about the amazing eyeliner she has on, which leads to a rather enthusiastic conversation about makeup and related items that I didn't see coming. This is the first time I think we've ever talked like this before, and weirdly enough, I find myself realizing that Gabrielle can actually be funny and nice. While it's pleasant conversing with her, the conversation honestly makes me feel even worse about everything I accused her of. I was super off point on that one.

Gabrielle is busy explaining the quality of this oddly named makeup brand to me when Harry rejoins us and tells us that he and I will be leaving. We say our goodbyes and before too much time has gone by, Harry and I are back on the interstate with nearly eight hours of driving ahead of us. We don't really say all that much for the first ten or fifteen minutes, but I notice that Harry seems to be blinking rather aggressively as if he's trying to stay awake, so I decide that I should probably try to keep him somewhat entertained for the duration of this trip.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask him curiously, observing how Harry appears to be rather deep in thought.

Harry frowns and glances over to me before fixing his eyes on the road. With one hand gripping the steering wheel, Harry sighs into his seat and stares out in front of him. He looks really attractive right now, but he also looks somewhat distressed about what he's gong to say, which has me a little worried. I don't know how much more drama I can take this weekend, so I hope he's just tired or something.

"I don't know," Harry begins, biting the inside of his lip and furrowing his brows. "I'm just confused, I guess."

"About what?"

Harry glances over at me again. "Since when were you and Gabrielle friends? I thought you didn't like her?"

Yeah, about that...

"I don't think I ever said I disliked her." I try to think back to a time when I might have said something about Gabrielle, but I really don't know if I did.

Harry shrugs, "Oh.. I guess I just thought there was some sort of roommate conflict between you two, like she stole your curling iron or something."

"I wish I could use that as an excuse for why I never curl my hair, but sadly, I'm just shit at it." I laugh, and Harry smiles in amusement. "No beach waves for me unless I'm actually at the beach."

"Your hair did look really good the other night at the beach," Harry says, and I can tell that he is being sincere in his words. I can't help but laugh though, because the only attention Harry paid to my hair that night was when I was down on my knees in front of him in our room.

"I'm glad you liked it. I wasn't sure if you did because you were pulling it rather enthusiastically when I went down on you." Harry chokes on air when I speak these words to him, and I burst out in a fit of laughter. A blush has risen to Harry's cheeks; however, I can see him trying to remain his suave self. I like it when I can fluster him like this, just because it rarely happens and it also amuses me greatly.

"Don't say it like that," Harry whines playfully. "You're making us sound like Cal and Gabrielle. They're so... aggressive, if you know what I mean."

"Ha, ew," I roll my eyes and stare out at the long stretch of road in front of us. "Don't compare us to them. I wouldn't say that to anyone else but you, but Gabrielle probably would."

Harry scoffs, "Don't I know it... Is that what you two were talking about last night? Sucking dick?"

I laugh at Harry's comment, because that is exactly what we ended up talking about in the end; however, I can't help but feel slightly nervous about discussing last night with Harry. I don't want him to know how dumb I have been in the last week or so, so really, I don't want to be having this conversation right now. I'm not going to lie to him, but I'm going to try my best not to reveal too much of my stupidity. However, if he asks me something that directly applies, then I won't make something else up. I'll tell him everything.

"She may have said something about it briefly," I say cautiously, trying my best not to reveal too much. "But that wasn't the whole of our conversation."

"I should have known," Harry rolls his eyes and sighs. "What else did you two talk about?"

I bite down in the inside of my lip, "Oh, um... we talked about she and Calvin for a bit, like other than the gross stuff."

"You know," Harry starts, his voice already rising. "I've tried to like her for years, but I just can't. She's definitely changed since I first met her, but still, seeing how terribly she treated him when we were freshmen just completely ruined her for me. I would never be able to trust someone who cheated on me." Sighing heavily, Harry looks over at me with an apologetic look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to rant."

I guess it really is safe to say that he and Gabrielle aren't a thing.

"It's okay, I get it." I smile at him encouragingly despite the shock and confusion I am feeling. Harry rarely gets frustrated like this, so it's throwing me off just a bit. Gabrielle must have really fucked up back in the day for Harry to be this worked up about it. "This may be unforgiving of me, but to me, once a cheater, always a cheater. I just don't fuck with it."

Harry nods in agreement. "I'm the same way. If there's no mutual trust, then a relationship has nothing."

Okay, that one hit me hard. It's like he knows I doubted him. But I do trust him... or at least, in theory I do. I know in my head that Harry is just about the most loyal person I've ever met, but sometimes circumstances cloud that knowledge. I feel like it was reasonable of me to doubt him yesterday given all the suspicious activity going on, but somehow, I don't think Harry would see it that way if I were to tell him about it. But I don't have to tell him about it; Gabrielle said she wouldn't say anything, so I should be okay to just leave things as they are.

Harry continues and smiles at me as he does it, "That's why I love this thing between us. I feel like we can talk about anything, even if it's one our fuck-ups, and everything will be okay." Harry is beaming now, and I can't help but smile at how happy he looks talking about us. Also, his words are just about the most reassuring thing I've ever heard in my life. Even if I do have to tell him about the whole Gabrielle thing, I think it might not actually be all that bad now that Harry has said this.

"Yeah..." Though I'm encouraged by Harry's last comment, I end up trailing off in what probably sounds like the most guilty response ever. I highkey think I have just betrayed my own secrecy, but it's fine.

Looking over at me in confusion, Harry nervously adds, "I'm sorry if that was too much... I just– I feel like we have something special, you know?"

Oh, that sound? Yeah, that was the sound of the gate of the butterfly cage in my stomach being blown off its hinges, because the things Harry is saying to me right now are legitimately exactly what I have been wanting to hear all weekend long. Also, he's acting really cute and passionate about the subject matter, and it's just about the most endearing thing I've ever seen. I guess there won't be a dramatic conversation about Gabrielle between Harry and I after all.

"No, don't apologize," I encourage him and see the relief flood into his face. "I feel the same way, and I'm glad you said that, because it makes this, I don't know, real."

"What do you mean?"

I shrug, "I don't know; I guess we just rarely talk about this kind of stuff, so when we do, it just all feels so important and like it means something."

Harry smiles and reaches across the consul between us, lacing his fingers between mine. "I know what you mean. I'm sorry I don't express my feelings to you more; I've been trying to be better at it."

Swoon.

"What kind of feelings?" My tone is teasing, but I do genuinely want to know.

"I should have seen that coming," Harry laughs, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. With a sigh, he looks over at me for several seconds, completely ignoring the road in front of us. "Um, well, this is going to sound dumb, but you make me happy. Like, really happy. I know you probably couldn't tell with how I treated you at the hospital last night, but you do."

"Okay, first of all, everything about last night was a mess, so let's never speak of it again." Harry nods in agreement, so I take that as my cue to continue. Squeezing Harry's hand in mine and grinning at him like the lovesick fool that I am, I make to respond to Harry's declaration of happiness. "And second of all, you make me so happy sometimes that I don't know what to do with myself. Like the other night at the beach with you was one of the best nights of my life, and I wish we could go back to it."

"Oh, same," Harry says adamantly. "We should have just stayed at the beach for the weekend. That would have been so much better."

"Retweet." I think back to all the alcohol, vomiting, and unsolicited kisses and shudder in disgust. I'll be glad when this history class is over, because then I'll never have to see John's stupid face again.

Shaking his head, Harry rolls his eyes and laughs, "I will never understand you and your Twitter references."

"Oh, come on. 'Retweet' is the easiest term in stan Twitter language to get." I'll never understand how Harry can be so invested in vine culture, but neglect Twitter at the same time. It just doesn't make sense to me.

"Who is Stan?" Harry exclaims frustratedly. "It doesn't make sense. Where is Stan, and why do you use his name as an adjective?"

I roll my eyes, "I'm not going to explain this to you again. There isn't a person behind the term 'stan.'"

"That's so annoying," Harry huffs defeatedly. "Why does Twitter have to be so confusing?"

"It's not," I counter. "There's just a lot of terminology that has evolved over the years. That's why sometimes I can't explain some things on there to you, because they're like tier three memes and that would take an entire afternoon to explain."

Harry groans dramatically and looks away from me, "Oh, stop being so annoying with your advanced Twitter knowledge."

"You know you love me," I hum obnoxiously, stretching over the center consul to lean my head against his shoulder. I bat my eyes at Harry and smile sweetly at him as he looks down at me with an amused grin plastered across his face. I probably look like a child right now, but I don't really care. At this point, my terrible flirting mode has been activated, so I'm playing on that.

Harry sighs and looks into my eyes, "You're right."

I don't care that Harry isn't paying attention to driving, because what the fuck did he just say? Did he mean to say what I think he's saying, or am I being insane? Should I ask? No, probably not. I'm being crazy.

Even though I have decided not to verbally inquire about Harry's most-likely-unintentional comment, my face betrays me, and Harry ends up taking notice of my apparent panic. "I'm sorry," he says with a frown, and I sit up straight in my seat, bracing myself for the embarrassment that is surely about to wash over me. "I didn't-" Harry pauses, and I feel my heart fall in my chest. Yeah, I had already determined that I was getting excited for no reason, but still, that one hurts. Or, at least it does until Harry speaks again.

"That wasn't the way I wanted to tell you that," he adds finally, with a look of anxiety in his green eyes.

My stomach flips, and I find myself staring blankly at Harry with no clue of what I should say. He hasn't said anything explicitly yet, so I can't be too quick to declare anything. I want to, though, and I think Harry does, too.

Several moments of silence pass between us, and each one feels like it's physically twisting my insides into a coil. What the fuck do I do?

Harry lets out a sound that sounds a little like half a giggle and half a whine before he sighs and just goes for it. "I'm such an idiot for saying that." Harry laughs at himself and turns his face towards me. "But it's true. I realize we haven't been together for that long, but I'm in love with you, and it's been driving me mad to keep that to myself."

Yeah, I think if it were possible to die of happiness, that would be me right now.

"R- really?" My voice cracks as I speak, and I nervously avert my eyes to Harry and I's still intertwined hands. I want to look at his face right now, but I'm genuinely too scared to. I've never told anyone aside from my family that I love them before, so this is definitely a terrifying situation for me right now. But then again, I shouldn't be scared because Harry has eliminated any fear of him rejecting me. He loves me, and it's clearly enough for him to say something about it.

"Yes. I'm so in love with you that I thought I was being so completely obvious." His voice is sure and confident. I don't know what Harry is doing when he says this because I'm too damn cowardly to look up at him, but I do know that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am in this moment. I always thought I was the one who was too obvious, not the other way around. "That's why I get so frustrated when you put yourself down like you did last night. I'm not out of your league, and I wish you could see that. I'm not perfect, and I would have thought that after everything we've discussed this weekend, you would hold it against me."

What is he even talking about? His past? Yeah, he did some shitty things, but I honestly couldn't give a shit at this point. Clearly, he's not playing the games he used to, because his games never involved him becoming vulnerable like he is right now. I should probably worry about it more than I am, but I'm done being suspicious of him. Harry is good in every way, and I love him, so none of that really matters.

"I'm afraid self-deprecating humor is my go-to method of amusing myself," I begin, trying to be lighthearted about what I'm going to say next. If the mood is too serious, I don't think I can say it. "But as far as that particular comment goes, I really only said that because I thought that I was the one who was completely obvious with my feelings."

I force myself to look at Harry and see that he has noticeably perked up and is now listening intently to every word I am saying. "I felt like I was desperately in love with someone who would never feel the same way." Harry frowns and opens his mouth to speak, but I am quick to follow up with more that will maybe make him understand.  "It's nothing you've done to make me feel that way, because you are literally my favorite human ever; I'm just insecure, I guess, and I let that lead me to believe that I don't deserve your attention... or your love."

I highkey did not mean to get that deep with him, but now that I say it out loud, I realize how sad it sounds. All my sarcasm and attempts to be funny really are just a big cover-up for how insecure I am, and it's really fucking pathetic. I hate that about myself, but hey, laugh until the pain goes away, right?

Harry sighs heavily, and before I really know what is happening, he has pulled his truck over on the side of the road. After shifting the gear into park, Harry turns his body to face me, and he has the most sympathy-filled, intense, yet caring look about him that I don' t think I have ever seen from him before.

"Camryn, listen to me," Harry says sternly, fixing his green eyes on mine. He rakes his hand through his hair like he is distressed about something, and I can't help but be filled with just a bit of anxiety over what he has to say to me. "I'm not going to try and fix your insecurities, because I know they can't just disappear with words, but I do want you to know that if anyone doesn't deserve someone's love, it's me who doesn't deserve yours. I have actually fucked up in life, whether it be with my mom and her husband, or with all those girls I betrayed, and when I told you about all of that, I thought for sure that you would decide that I wasn't worth it. I don't think I am, but for some strange reason, you have decided to look past all of that and love me anyway."

Harry takes a deep breath and smiles shyly at me before continuing, "I love you, Camryn, and I hope that I will be able to convince you of it, because you deserve to feel loved by someone, even if that someone is as fucked up as I am."

By the end of Harry's speech, I am smiling wider than I ever have before, and considering the absurd number of Jerry Miles videos I have watched in my short lifetime, I think that's damn well saying something.

"Harry," I say quietly, my smile dominating my face so much that it physically hurts. "First off, that could have been straight out of one of those chick-flicks that you like." Harry laughs and rolls his eyes at me even though he knows I'm right. "I'm kidding, but I'm also not. And second, you're not fucked up. You've made mistakes, and so have I, but we're going to move on from them and learn from them, because that's the only thing we can do."

Harry nods in agreement, and then a silence falls over us. It's brief and not in the least uncomfortable; it's just... there. I, for one, can't stop thinking about how happy I am though. Like, I'm talking climb on top of a rooftop and sing at the top of my lungs about how happy I am kind of happy. And that's a lot of physical exertion that I am not in a good enough shape for, so that is a big-ass claim to make. I wonder if Harry is feeling the same way right now.

"This is weird," I laugh nervously with that same stupid smile on my face and look over to Harry whose eyes are still fixed rather intently on me. He cocks his head to the side as if to ask me why I would say such a thing, so I continue in expressing my thoughts. "I mean, it's just really nice to say it out loud without wondering how you're going to respond."

At this, a mischievous smirk rises onto Harry's pink lips, and I can only brace myself to prepare for whatever cheesy line he's going to respond with. However, in a turn of events, he goes with a much more me thing to say, so I am thrown a little off guard.

"What is it we're saying out loud, now?" Harry teases me like I did to him earlier, and blush just about as madly as he did, if not more.

Laughing, I smile at Harry and look into his eyes, telling him the one thing I've been wanting to say to him for what seems like so long. "I'm in love with you, Harry Styles, and I don't care that you don't like Jerry Miles. I'm willing to look past that."

"Oh, shut up," Harry smiles, though I can see that he is trying to look annoyed with me. Reaching across the consul, Harry cups my face in his large hands and kisses me right on the mouth, gently, but with so much feeling that words fail to describe just how wonderful and meaningful it really is. It's a kiss shared by two people who love each other, that's for sure, and I don't think I can ever get enough of it.

•••

It was a long wait, but this was a long chapter, so hopefully, I am forgiven.

We are nearing the end of this story; I just have a few things that need to happen before I wrap it up. If you're getting bored, fear not, for I am almost done consuming your time. However, if you'd like me to continue consuming your time, please consider reading my other story Lips That Lied. It's wildly different than this one, and I'm really proud of it, so please check it out and let me know what you think!!

Also, apparently Stan is based on a person.. I apologize for my ignorance but I'm not rewriting this sorry ✌🏻✌🏻

Thanks for reading, loves. Ily
-Kate❤️