When Harry Met Luna

“Would you rather kiss Russell Brand on the mouth for ten seconds or...” Harry started humming, evidently coming up with a worse alternative. When he finally thought of it, he snapped his fingers. “...or have sex with Hugh Hefner with all the lights on?”

I laughed loudly, throwing my hands behind my head and notting my fingers tight. “Ew! Russell Brand. Without question.”

Harry and I have been playing this game for a solid hour now, going back and forth. The ‘would you rathers’ started out innocent at first, but were clearly getting more amateur, thanks to our apparent perverted minds.

After Harry and I grabbed a stack full of our favorite vinyls from the piano room, we retreated upstairs to my bedroom, where my antique record player was patiently waiting for any sort of attention. I grabbed it from it’s stand and positioned it on the round plush carpet at the bottom of my bed. We started listening to The Rolling Stones first, which led into an animate conversation about the band, and other bands from that era. We eventually ended up sitting on the floor by the record player, both us visibly keen on switching to the next vinyl we had waiting in line.

When we got tired of listening to Keith Richard’s raspy yet delightful voice, we moved onto Frank Sinatra, which in time led to Elvis Presley - pre-Viva Las Vegas Elvis, that is - Coldplay, Maroon 5 and now, Michael Buble which was Harry’s pick.

I don’t remember how or why it happened, but we somehow progressed to lying down on the carpet with our heads next to each other but our bodies facing opposite directions. There was something so innocent about it, especially with Michael Buble’s sweet lullabies playing softly in the background.

And obviously, I was paying attention to the ‘Would you rather’ game and in absolutely no way shape or form, was I staring at the the way Harry’s bicep curved and flexed when he had his hand resting behind his head.

“Right, your turn.” He tilted his head to get a better look at my face. Every time he did it, I became increasingly aware of just how close our faces were.

“Uhhh, okay.” I cleared my throat, making sure I kept my eyes on the ceiling. “Would you rather get a blow job from Britney Spears - no, not 90s Britney, present Britney” I added when I saw Harry open his mouth to ask. He quickly closed it and nodded for me to go on. “Or...lick Adele’s armpit for twenty minutes?”

“Luna!” Harry scolded through his laughing. “That’s disgusting!”

“You have to choose!” I exclaimed, laughing too. My stomach muscles start to cramp from laughing so hard at this game.

“Alright, alright. Fine.” He shook his head and cringed. “I think I’d go for Britney. She does have a good set of lips on her.”

“I’m throwing up.”

“Alright. I have a really good one for you.” He pointed his finger in my direction. “And you have to answer it.”

“Now I’m a little scared.” I said honestly. “Go on.”

“Would you rather give Will Farrell a blow job or...” He paused and grinned widely, clearly about to enjoy whatever the alternative was. “have sex with me?”

Have sex with me?

Have sex with me?

I felt the color from my face drain and melt all the way down to my toes. I fell silent, now feeling absolutely mortified by the options he gave me. I could literally see the herd of imaginary elephants barreling through my bedroom door and surrounding us. He just had to make things awkward. He couldn’t keep himself out of the game, he had to be an option.

“I think I choose death.”

That’s a lie.

I would have sex with you thirty times over.

“You’re the worst!” Harry cracked up, shaking his head. “Death is totally not an option.”

“It is now, fart breath.” I turned my head just so he could catch my smirk. He rolled his eyes at me and turned back to the ceiling.

Dodged another bullet. Thank the Lord have mercy.

We both fell speechless while Michael Buble continued to sing. He was now singing “Dream A Little Dream Of Me”, my favorite rendition by him. I sighed and closed my eyes. For once, I was completely content with the silence put between me and Harry.

That was until, Harry started to sing along with Michael Buble.

His voice was raspy, low and sweet. In that very moment, it occurred to me that that was the first time I ever heard Harry sing and I didn’t exactly hate it.

Actually, he sang like an angel.

I opened my eyes and turned to him, watching as he softly sang along with the lyrics. My heart lurched in my chest when he started the second verse which consisted of ‘Stars fading, but I linger on, dear. Still craving your kiss.’

I actually contemplated on sitting up and placing a kiss on his lips.

Like. I was actually contemplating it.

Oh sweet Jesus control yourself, Luna.

“You’ve got some nice pipes there, Harry.” I commented once the song finished and started playing the next Michael Buble song. “You should consider a career in singing.”

The sarcastic remark was not lost on him.

“Speaking of,” Harry lifted his head onto his propped up hand and twisted his body so he was fully facing me. I immediately lifted my chin slightly towards the ceiling to prevent any sort of double chin action. It was way too early in the ballgame for Harry to witness any of that nonsense. “you should come to my show Saturday night at The O2. The rest of the lads plane land sometime that morning, and then we have a couple of press related things to do but I can swing round and pick you up before sound check and-”

“Harry. I’m already going.” I chuckled, interrupting his babbling. “I forgot to tell you. Mallory and I are covering it for the A&R blog.”

“You don’t say?” Harry replied, his expression full of surprise and excitement.

“Mmhmm.” I nodded. “Mal’s in charge of the photos, I’m in charge of the writing part.”

“You’ll obviously write about how good looking I am.” Harry closed his eyes, raised his eyebrows and moved his head back and forth.

I gave him a weird look. “Clearly.”

When he did it, a piece of his hair that was once pushed up and away from his face, had now fallen in front of his eyes. Without hesitation (and apparently, a thought), I reached up and pushed it out of the way for him.

His smile disappeared.

Fuck.

I didn’t mean to do it. Ok well yes I did, but I thought I had enough will power to stop myself from going through with it.

And now it was me who initiated the third intimate moment between us. This time, however, I didn’t feel myself panic. I didn’t feel the need to move or runaway from Harry.

His face was so close to mine, practically inches away. The atmosphere had taken a full 180 and Michael Buble singing about love in the background definitely wasn’t helping.

“Luna.” Harry whispered.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It was happening.

I was about to kiss Harry Styles.

“Yes?” I all but croaked, the butterflies erupted in my stomach like a volcano.

He was about to say something but he didn’t get the chance to.

Why?

Because my mobile phone exploded with a loud obnoxious ringtone and interrupted him.

I rolled my eyes to the back of my head and jumped up from where I was laying. “Hold that thought.”

I climbed over my bed and reached for the phone that was sitting on my bedside table. Mallory’s name flashed across the screen. I thought about letting it go to voicemail and calling her back after Harry left but then I realized Mallory just doesn’t call for no reason.

“Hello?” I answered it on the fourth ring.

“Luna.” She was sniffling and her voice sounded an octave higher than usual. I turned around to look at Harry who was now sitting up and watching me with curiosity. “Can you come over?”

“Is everything okay?” I asked worriedly. I remembered she told me earlier that she was going over to William’s to have a talk about something and I was beginning to think this had something to do with it.

“No.” She answered truthfully. “It’s something terrible. Please tell me you’re not busy.”

“No, not at all. I’m leaving right now.” I motioned for Harry to follow me out of my bedroom. He jumped up from his spot and caught up to me by the time I reached the top of the stairs. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She sniffed again. “Okay.”

When I hung up, I turned to look at Harry with puppy dog eyes. He sighed, already knowing what I was about to ask him, and headed towards the foyer. “Fine. I’ll drive.”

I grinned and slipped on the pair of beige flats by the front door. After locking up the penthouse behind me, I linked my arm through Harry’s while we walked towards the elevators, earning me a genuine smile on Harry’s lips.

Maybe it wasn’t exactly the most platonic gesture I could make, but it definitely was my way of letting him know I was taking a raincheck on that heavy make out session we were about to have on my bedroom floor.