You Know I'm No Good

“For the love of Christ, Nick, is it really that difficult to remember the key to your own house?” I shouted as I placed the sketchbook I was currently doodling in on the floor of the living room and standing, my bare feet stomping through the main hallway of his house toward the front door. “You’re twenty-eight bloody years old.”

Nick had a habit of leaving his keys on the front table and then scolding me for locking the front door. As if that was some sort of ridiculous behavior that I had adopted in America. I yanked the door open with a scowl on my face, only to be met with the beaming grin of… not Nick.

“Oh… Harry,” I stuttered, “I thought you were my brother.”

“I figured as much,” he chuckled, biting his lip slightly. “Can I come in?”

I eyed him, slightly confused. “Nick’s not here. I figured my shouting would have tipped you off.”

“Yeah?” he said, looking as if he expected me to catch on. “He’s just texted me, we’re all supposed to go to dinner once he’s done at the station.”

I scrunched my nose up at him; Nick hadn’t mentioned anything before leaving for work this morning. Then again, this certainly sounded like something he would do, just expect me to arrive somewhere without giving any mention of it. He’d always been quite flighty.

“I’ve just moved in up the street and figured I’d drop by to see if you needed a ride,” he said as I stepped aside, letting him into the house.

“Uh,” I said, glancing around the flat for where I had left my boots, “sure. Lemme just… yeah…”

I wandered through the living before spotting them beside the couch, right where I’d left them. I sat down briefly to tug them on and grabbed my purse off the side table. I adjusted the beanie on my head as I joined Harry in the foyer, where the purring kitten was staring up at him in adoration as Harry pet behind his ears. I smiled slightly at the sight.

“What’s her name?”

“His,” I corrected. “It’s Sloth.”

His eyebrows knitted together as he looked up at me.

“Sloth? Like… from the Goonies?”

I nodded, “’cause of the wonky eye and such.”

He let out a breathy laugh as he watched the kitten gallop back through the house.

I looked him over as he stood up next to me. He was dressed slightly more casual today, in a Pink Floyd t-shirt and low tops.

My phone rang in my hand as I grabbed the keys in the other and glanced at the screen.

Ben.

I stared at it for a moment before Harry cleared his throat.

“D’you need to get that?” he asked when I looked up at him.

“No,” I said as I walked past him through the front door ignoring the call and tossing my phone into my purse carelessly. “I like your shirt.”

He smiled in response and jogged down the walk to open the passenger-side door of his black Range Rover for me. I eyed him sideways with a slight smirk and slid past him into the seat. It smelled like new car and soft cologne, and it was surprisingly tidy, which I liked.

The other door opened and he joined me. As he started the car, the sound of Ed Sheeran filled the speakers and I smiled slightly, which he noticed.

“You like Ed?” he asked, glancing at me for a second before turning back to the road.

I nodded, “very much.”

“Y’know,” he paused, “he’s playing Hammersmith in a few weeks.”

I laughed slightly, “I did know that.”

“Maybe you’d like to come with me and my mates,” he suggested, trying to seem indifferent.

Trying being the operative word.

“Ooh, I don’t know,” I said, turning to face the window, a small grin on my face. “I’m probably quite booked.”

I turned back to catch him roll his eyes playfully at me, and we sat in comfortable silence for the remaining few minutes of the ride. He parked without any issues, which I’m sure is the case for him anywhere in London. I climbed out of the car and we walked into the building quickly, trying to avoid any additional attention. He spoke briefly to the woman at the front desk, exchanging pleasantries before motioning for me to follow him to the elevator. I had been to the Radio 1 studios once before several years ago when Nick first started working here, but he was essentially a glorified intern and I didn’t really get see any of the important stuff. The floor that he had worked didn’t hold a candle to the one where the Breakfast Show offices were located. Records and photos of celebrity guests lined the walls between office doors. It was a bit emotional really, to see just how big of a deal my brother actually was.

Harry glanced back at me, watching as I marveled at everything. I knew he wasn’t fazed by any of it.

“You’re jaded,” I teased, quickening my pace to catch up to him.

“Sorry?” he laughed, looking down at me.

“This is brilliant,” I grinned, motioning to the offices around us.

He looked around for a moment before glancing back at me, a warm smile lighting up his green eyes, before we continued down the hallway.

Nick’s door was open when we walked up, but Harry knocked lightly on the frame anyway. The walls of the office were glass, and I could see that he was chatting with Matt Fincham, whom I recognized from the other night.

“Took ya long enough, Styles,” I heard Nick bellow with a laugh as I peered around the corner of the doorframe. Nick’s head cocked to the side slightly when he noticed me. “What’re you doing here?”

“Sorry?” I laughed, my mouth curving up into a confused smile at his own apparent confusion.

Harry cut in quickly, a bright smile on his face. “I ran into your sister on the walk to my car, figured I’d ask if she’d like to join us.”

I turned to face him, my eyebrows knitted together.

“You literally can’t leave your bedroom without running into someone you know in Primrose, can you?” Nick chuckled, handing a stack of papers to Matt as he made he way out of the office. “See you tomorrow, Finchy.”

Matt mumbled something on the way out that I didn’t catch because I was far too busy scowling at Harry to hear anything that was going on around us.

“The more the merrier, I s’pose,” Nick shrugged, standing from his seat behind the desk and pulling his pea coat over his jumper. “I just have to run and drop these off with Fearne, meet you guys at the car, yeah?”

My hands were balled into fists but I managed to force a smile and nod, watching him jog down the hallway before whipping around to face Harry.

“What the hell was that?” I snapped at Harry, taking a step toward him and trying my best to not slap the mischievous grin off his face.

“I wanted to see you,” he said with a shrug, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

I glared at him. Even if Harry didn’t know about my argument with Nick a few days ago, I was still angry that I found myself in this situation. I mean, I didn’t know that my presence was a surprise. I wanted to tell Nick that he had tricked me, that I thought I was it some sort of miscommunication and that I was supposed to be here. Nick didn’t want me hanging around Harry, even if he hadn’t explicitly said it, and I respected that. But now it seemed as if the curly-headed twat and I were chummy, something I had no intention of becoming.

Even so, I wasn’t about to reveal all of this to Harry. ‘Oh, right, my older brother doesn’t want me seeing you because I have a reputation of leaving guys- or rather people in general- in my figurative dust.’

He was staring at me slightly uncertain, not used to my temper. Most people weren’t.

“I don’t like when people make me feel stupid,” I glowered.

“Right,” he nodded, biting his lip to hide his smile, “won’t happen again.”

Something in that stupid smile told me that this was a lie, that this kid was going to be nothing but a pain in my ass, but I just rolled my eyes and shoved past him anyway and took off toward the elevator. Nick was already waiting for us at Harry’s car when we walked up, and he offered me the front seat, which I declined without a word. Nick gave me look through the window but ultimately shrugged it off before we took off towards the restaurant.

Dinner was uneventful. I sat there, a sour look plastered to my face while Harry and Nick talked animatedly about co-hosting the show together next week. Every time they mentioned the phrase “Lads FM” I legitimately thought that I was going to punch myself in the face.

Nick caught on to my sulking quickly and at one point even asked me what the source of my “shit attitude” was. I simply told him that I was tired. It was half true, and though he didn’t seem entirely satisfied, he dropped the subject. Harry constantly eyed me over the rim of his water glass but I ignored him for the entirety of the meal. The waitress delivered the check and we paid, stood up and made our way to the car, dodging photographers as we went. Harry dropped us off at home and I wasted no time making my way inside. By the time Nick came through the door five minutes later, I was already sprawled on the couch flipping through television channels.

“You can stop pouting,” he said, “he told me that he came here and invited you.”

“Yay,” I mumbled, landing on a rerun of Doctor Who.

He sighed, rubbing the sparse stubble on his chin.

“I didn’t come here to make things more difficult for you, you know,” I said as I tucked my legs underneath me, “even if it seems that way.”

“It doesn’t seem that way, Cam,” he said with a shake of his head, sitting down beside me. “I’m just being overprotective, I s’pose. God, I’m getting old.”

I let out a raspy laugh. “You don’t look a day over forty.”

He let his head fall back on the couch and smiled at me briefly before his attention turned to the sketchpad on the floor.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Hmm?” I mumbled, following his gaze. “Oh… I dunno, just mindless doodles, really.”

He bent forward and picked it up, opening it to the first page. He flipped through slowly, eyeing the pages of gowns, skirts, and waistcoats before looking up at me.

“Camden,” he began, “you drew these?”

“Erm, yeah,” I said, scratching the back of my neck. “There was this quaint little art shop just down the street from my apartment in New York and I s’pose I just picked it up to kill time.”

“These are,” he paused, flipping the page several more times, “these are really good.”

I shrugged and bit my lip. It was hobby, just something I’d done when Ben had gone MIA for a few days. I’d only sketched clothes because I hadn’t known what else to draw. It wasn’t as if I could just pick up a pencil and draw a Monet. Dresses just came naturally, I guess.

“Have you thought about school?” he asked, a hopeful smile on his face.

I threw my head back with a laugh and turned back to the TV.

“Camden, I’m serious,” he pressed. “UAL has an amazing design program.”

“Really?” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm, hoping he would drop the subject.

School didn’t exactly seem realistic. Acceptance was beyond a long shot, and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t exactly afford tuition anyway. Sure, I had thought about it. But when the reality of it all dawned on me, it just made me upset. I focused my attention on the television, deliberately avoiding his stare.

I think Nick got the hint, immediately closing the pad and placing back on the floor. I thanked him silently and relaxed into the couch.

“I love this episode,” he grinned toward the TV.

“Me, too.”