Perfect Teeth

The only reason I got out of bed was because I had filming to do with Tongue in Cheek and if I was late, Alfie would probably figure out a way to physically burn me with the ferocity of his glare. He was exasperating enough to deal with on a normal day, but if I ever wanted to gather up the courage to have a proper conversation with him about his apparent attitude problem, I needed him to be further down on the scale of angry – More Mildly Displeased than Absolutely Livid. Both options were still displeasing, but I was at a point where I would take what I could get.

I crawled out of bed reluctantly, dragging my arms as I pulled away from the warmth of my duvet and the comfort of Harry. He cocooned around me when we slept, one arm always finding a way under my body and one leg twisting with mine. He was pleasantly warm.

Showering was a blur, the warm water lulling me back into a sleepy state for seconds at a time before I would jerk awake, finally rinsing the conditioner from my hair and stumbling out to find a towel, bypassing any timely beauty rituals. Sacrifices were to be made when it was 7:15 in the morning and I needed to be out of the door by 7:45.

Wiping the steam from my mirror with my towel, I grabbed my brush and detangler, preparing to wrangle my hair into something tame, when the still slightly hazy reflection in the mirror stopped me. I leaned forward for a moment, wiping more steam away as I focused on the blurred shapes on my neck.

“I’m going to fucking cut you,” I hissed at Harry moments later, stomping back towards the bed to hover over him and glare.

“Hmm?” He let out a hum, eyelids fluttering open slowly. Watching him wake up was still endearing, but his attractive, sleepy face had to be put on the backburner because I was going to maul him. Eviscerate him until he was nothing but the shredded husk of a man.

“I’m going to snapchat your neck.” I informed him blankly, giving him a challenging look as his eyes opened wider and he sat up slowly.

“What’d I do?” He mumbled, rubbing a bit of sleep from his eye.

I had speculated about what Harry would be like in bed. I mean, like, dude, one look at those lips and you’re kind of already thinking about the things they could do to you. And in some ways, he was a lot like I had imagined – attentive and knowledgeable and sexy. He knew what he was doing, that much was apparent, but I was never uncomfortable. But at the same time, be surprised me in a lot of ways too. He was vocal, more vocal than anyone else I’d ever been with, and I’d come to relish the breathy groan he let out right before he came, and he was incredibly fond of his lips on my person. My neck, my jaw, my collarbone, my breasts – his lips and teeth and tongue, if not connected with mine, were covering any inch of my skin. I enjoyed the way he seemed enamored by of my skin, paying special attention to places I hadn’t always given much thought, like the underside of my breast or the soft patch underneath my belly button.

Which, presumably, is what left me in the predicament I was currently in.

There was a smattering of marks from my jawline down, speckled across my neck, my chest, and all the way to my hipbones. The lightest a deep pink, and the darkest verging on the edge of a violent purple. They smarted when I pressed my fingertips to the skin.

“Attempted to make abstract art on my body,” I gestured with an irritated hand.

“Oh.” Harry didn’t look as remorseful as I would have liked, his eyes actually brightening. “Yeah. That.”

I blinked at him slowly, letting out a noise of displeasure at the small smile that was slowly making its way onto his face.

“I have filming to be at in thirty minutes and no way to cover all of this up.”

“Don’t cover it up,” Harry suggested quickly, leaning towards me. “That’s some good handiwork right there. Took some real time and effort.”

“Good to know you put time and effort into some part of last night.” I replied acerbically, making up total shit just because I knew it would irritate him, wanting to piss him off because he didn’t look the least bit apologetic.

“Oh don’t give me that shit,” Harry snorted, and then, as he really seemed to wake up, his eyes widened in realization that I naked in front of him and he was all grabby hands.

I tried to dodge his outstretched fingers, moving my hips to twist away from him, but he only sat up further in bed and hooked his arms around my waist, successfully pulling me down to him.

“Last night – and this morning – whatever, was brilliant, so stop lying to yourself.” He pulled me to him so my legs were over his hips, sprawled out beside him, and our faces level. I squirmed uncomfortably, shifting my hips as they pressed into Harry’s and his eyebrows shot up.

There was that word again – brilliant. I was brilliant, he was brilliant, last night was brilliant – the lilt of his tongue made me want to shiver, but I was angry at him (kind of) so I didn’t.

“ZZ is going to give me so much shit. It’s going to take forever to conceal.” I complained.

Harry only shrugged, still grinning much too victoriously for my liking, one of his hands reaching up to delicately touch one of the marks on my neck.

“Let her give you shit.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Be shameless. You got some last night and it was damn good.”

“Says you.”

“Yes, says me.” He glared. “And says you and how many times you got off.”

I ignored that and went straight to the narrowed eyed glaring. “But did you have to be so territorial? You’re like a dog. Are you going to pee on me next? Because I’m not into that shit and I might have to sell you out to Sugarscape.”

“I like love bites.” Harry nudged the mark on my jawline with his nose as he shrugged. “Sexy.”

“Inconvenient.”

He continued to move his face down, nuzzling his face into my skin as if connecting the marks. “Telling.”

“Yes, too much so.”

“Mine.” He whispered the word huskily, before he bit playfully into my neck.

I pulled away, pressing my hands against his shoulders as I widened my eyes in exasperation. “Oh god, do not start with the caveman territorial bit. I am not a possession.”

Harry moved his lips from the neck briefly to look up at me, swallowing as his face finally turned apologetic. “No, you’re right. You’re not. Sorry.” He quickly apologized, pressing a brief kiss to my lips. “I just…I like it, but I should’ve asked first. Sorry.”

He finally looked properly chastised and the anger I felt ebbed away easily by the gentle look in his eyes, slightly wary as if just realizing that he had done something he perhaps shouldn’t have.

“I like it too,” I admitted quietly after a moment, because the first initial thought that I’d had when I got out of the shower was one that warmed me through, the visible reminder of Harry on my skin, but then I was quickly jumping to logistics and that’s when things got messy. Like marks meant proof and evidence not only for me, but for other people too. “Just not when I have filming today and will have an incredibly curious and slightly enraged make up artist to deal with.”

“You burned yourself with a straightener.” He immediately offered up an excuse, head dipping back down to graze at the darkened skin. Lips soft and tracing.

“On my collarbone?”

“Spilled a pot of boiling water, then.” He suggested next.

I laughed, shaking my head. “What a splatter pattern.”

“Had a night of wonderful, amazing sex.” He concluded with a chuckle. “Honesty is the best policy.”

I snorted. “Perhaps the most unrealistic one of them all.”

Harry chortled into my skin. “Does she think you’re celibate?”

“She just knows me.” I shrugged, before hesitating. “She’d just want to know…who.”

And that was where the problem really was, because ZZ would immediately want to know whom exactly I was participating in coitus with. I wasn’t the type for one night stands and my dating prospects were limited (if not seemingly nonexistent) to Harry. And even then, I wasn’t even sure if she knew that we were dating prospects, but I also knew that she would easily conclude that, if not a random stranger, Harry was the one responsible for the mess on my neck.

And I didn’t know how I felt about that. Or how Harry felt about that. And suddenly my quick decision to wake Harry up and rage at him seemed like a bad decision, because I had somewhere to be in twenty-seven minutes and I could feel him tense underneath me and I knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Because ZZ would want to know whom, and I couldn’t exactly tell her Harry, could I?

That was a risk. I trusted her – I mean, as much as you can trust someone you’ve known for a few months and work with – but there was still some hesitation there. And even then, just because I trusted her, didn’t mean Harry did.

Harry hummed against my neck. “There’s that.”

I pulled away from him slightly, preferring to look at his face as I gauged his reaction. “Am I…” I formed the words carefully. “Am I allowed to tell her who?”

“You’re allowed to tell her whatever you want.” He replied easily, quickly, as if he wasn’t quite sure of the words but he was going to say them anyway.

I could see the hesitation there, feel the tension, and I hated when it felt like that between us.

“So you’re fine with me spilling that you’re a sex crazed maniac with a penchant for making marks?”

“By all means. Sing it from the streets. Shout it from the rooftops. Make a YouTube video about it.” Harry grinned.

“Oh yes.” I nodded enthusiastically. “My First Time: Harry Styles edition. That’ll get some views.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I don’t – okay, like, I know you’re kidding, but real talk time.” I took a deep breath, holding in the air and then letting it out slowly, trying to figure out what I wanted to say or how I wanted to go about saying it. “What do you want me to tell her?”

“Tell her what you want to tell her.”

I gave him a look. “Thanks for the vague response.”

“I trust you.” Harry shrugged, and this time it was with less trepidation than before.

“You probably shouldn’t.” I told him, partially kidding and partially honest. Because the way I felt last night had me wanting to compose a thousand and two tweets, all proudly proclaiming HE LIKES ME – HE REALLY REALLY LIKES ME but I knew that would get me in trouble, so I didn’t.

“Oh?”

“I’ve been known to crack under pressure. One pressing journalist and I’ll be writing the tale of my night with Harry Styles. I could probably make a short story out of it. Become a millionaire.”

“A short story? A short story?”

“Well it certainly wasn’t novel worthy.”

“Stop insulting me!” He cried indignantly. “Not novel worthy?” He spluttered, before rolling me over in a quick move and pressing me flat on my back against the duvet.

He pressed his hips into mine. “I’ll make it epic.” He swept a hand down my side, fingers lingering dangerously on my left thigh. “Saga worthy.”

“Hmm.” I let out a sigh. “Doubtful.”

“Quit emasculating me!”

“But it’s fun.” I whined, laughing up at him as he pressed more short kisses along my neck, trailing down, down, down, until my hands were trailing his hair as he breathed against the marks on my hips.

“You know what else is fun?”

He didn’t wait for me to join in.

“Frick-fracking. Frick-fracking is lots of fun. Let’s do that.” He suggested.

“I can’t.” I tried to put some distance between us, but Harry’s hands made steady work on my hips. “I have work.”

He pouted, but I shook my head.

I shot him a look. “You’ve been a hindrance enough already today. I can’t be late.”

I pressed on his shoulders and he moved to the side reluctantly. There was enough reluctance there for the both of us, because nothing sounded better than spending the next few hours curled around Harry, but I evaded responsibility for long enough. I was an adult. I had responsibilities. They sucked, but I still had them.

With a sigh, I stood, yanking open the top drawer of my dresser and grabbing the first pair of underwear and bra that I saw, putting them on quickly while Harry sat on my bed.

“Do you want a ride then?” He asked, finally standing up and reaching for his pants.

“I can take the Tube—“

“Or you can save time and I can give you a ride.” He prompted. “It’s on my way.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Nick’s.”

“To gossip?” I asked.

“Obviously. He feeds off of it, keeps him young.”

“I’m going to tell him that you said that and he’ll air your dirty laundry on the air.”

“Considering most of my dirty laundry is also his dirty laundry, that’d be a stupid decision.”

I grabbed a pair of jeans and wiggled into them, grimacing slightly as the waistband dug into marks on my hips. I shot Harry a look, but he was bent over and searching for his shirt.

“That sounds inherently dirty and I don’t even think I want to know.” I replied, and then grabbed a striped sweater from the pile of clean clothing sitting next to my dresser and shrugging it on.

“We have fun.” Harry made a noise of triumph as he found his t-shirt, slipping the thin white cotton over his head and pulling it down. I wanted to kiss his tattoos and his torso goodbye. If I had to choose my favorite part of him (excluding the lips, we had to exclude the lips or nothing else would ever count) it would have to be the torso. I spent a large portion of last night running my hands along his sides, tracing his tattoos with my lips and feeling the strength of him underneath me.

“Shoes.” Harry muttered, looking down at the floor in question.

“Over here.” I grabbed his boots and extended my arm towards them. He took them with a smile, successfully navigating his socks and sitting down to put them on.

We were walking out of my flat ten minutes later, after quickly blow drying my hair and packing my bag, but Harry stopped me by the door, hand reaching out to tangle with mine and pull me back from opening the door and walking through the threshold.

“What?”

He didn’t garner that with a reply; just leaned down to kiss me, mouth molding to mine. I reacted quickly, squeezing his hand in mine and reaching another hand up to tangle in his hair.

“Thank you,” He breathed against my lips as he pulled away.

“You’re thanking me for sex?” I pulled back slightly, my expression somewhere between humor and offense. Why was he thanking me for sex? What the fuck did that mean?

“No – yes – well, yes, but no, not like—” Harry looked slightly flushed, but shook his head. “Thank you for letting me stay. Thank you for kissing me back. Thank you for being you.”

“Harry—,” God that boy knew how to melt a heart. Or give me a stroke.

“Shh.” He smiled and shook his head. “You’re going to be late.”

“You’ll drive fast. Jesus,” I let out a breathy laugh, feeling slightly woozy from him. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’m something else?” He laughed. “Please. Have you met you? You’re Ezra Callil. You’re apparently the funniest woman on the Internet.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “That title should belong to Mamrie Hart and Mamrie Hart only.”

“I’m just telling you what the people say.”

“People are wrong. There are countless opinions that you’re the hottest member of One Direction and we both know that’s not true.”

“Obviously it’s Liam.” He announced with a grin.

“Obviously.” I grinned right back, before tugging myself back up to kiss him again, pressing my mouth to his and swiping my tongue against his lips in a way that I only hoped made him as breathless as I was.

“I need to go to work and you need to go take a shower.” I said as I pulled away.

“Is there anything I do that satisfies you?” Harry complained, but he was smiling. “First the frick fracking and now the bathing habits?”

“Someone has to nitpick.”

“Trust me, I get it enough.” And there was something exasperated in the way that he said that that made me pull back a little, eyebrows raised in concern.

“You know that I’m kidding, right?” I asked him, much more seriously than the tone of our entire conversation had been. Apparently this was a morning for serious conversations about trust and explanations, except not in any of the ways that maybe they needed to be.

“Hmm?” He looked distracted, no longer looking at me but behind me.

I nudged his chin with my fingers. “With the teasing.” I clarified. “You know I’m kidding with the teasing, right? It’s just how I – it’s just how I am. It’s not meant to offend you, but sometimes I can take things too far and I never mean to—”

Harry looked momentarily startled, before shaking his head slightly and his eyes brightened. “No, yeah, I know.” He laughed a little, but it still sounded brittle to me. “Nick’s motto is the bigger the asshole to each other, the better the friendship, so I’m used to it.”

“I knew there was a reason Nick and I were such good friends.”

“Made a mistake there, introducing the two of you.”

“Please.” I scoffed. “You love it. Now shut up and take me to work.”



I was trying to be inconspicuous, but I had a feeling it wasn’t working. It was cold outside, the November air biting, but inside of the studio, it was toasty. Entirely too warm for a sweater and a scarf wrapped snugly around my neck, but I was hoping to drag out ZZ not knowing as long as possible.

And maybe it would’ve worked, if she weren’t so damn good at her job.

“I need you to take off your scarf so I can blend the foundation down your neck.” She said, smoothing out the coverage on my cheek.

“Can I wear the scarf to film?” I asked. “I’m a little cold.”

“It messes with the microphone pickup.” I knew that, but I was hoping she didn’t. “I can ask them to turn the heating up.”

“No, it’s fine.” I tried not to sigh reluctantly, scourging up a last bit of Harry’s courage as my fingers reached for the knot in my scarf.

There was nothing to be ashamed about here. I had great, consensual sex with someone who I trusted and liked. He was a little zealous with his mouth work on my skin, but it was too late to change that and it was much too difficult to stay mad at him. All he had to do was flash the dimple and give me a laugh and it was like any thoughts I had of being angry and indignant were gone.

So.

Okay.

I twisted my scarf off slowly, unwinding it and setting it down by my feet, lifting my eyes to meet ZZ’s gaze.

She looked on the verge of laughter. “I would’ve never assumed Harry as the marking type.” She finally concluded, a grin in her voice, but her demeanor entirely too nonchalant for normal ZZ. This was the girl who was shipping us before I was even realizing that I liked Harry.

“He claims he got carried away.” I said dryly, not even a little bit surprised that she jumped to the conclusion that it was Harry. It wasn’t worth the effort to lie to her, to make up some elaborate story, and I didn’t want to lie to her. Maybe it would be nice to talk to someone about it.

“Did he?” She laughed. “Looks like he put some real effort.”

“Claims it’s a work of art.”

“It’s going to be a work of art to cover it up properly.” She was already reaching for her heavy-duty concealer pallet, still entirely too calm. Maybe it was because it was early.

“So,” she started, just as she dabbed the first glob of thick concealer on my skin. “When did he get back?”

“Tuesday.”

“And when did this happen?” She started dabbing with her makeup brush.

“Wednesday.”

“Oh, so you waited a day?” She didn’t sound the least bit surprised.

I smiled sheepishly. “Technically, I saw him Tuesday, too, but we just slept.”

“Slept?”

“Yes. That thing when you’re not awake. Generally when your body reenergizes and recuperates.”

“So you slept in the same bed as Harry, again, and waited until Wednesday to have sex. Nice self control.” She observed, face still a mask of cool and calm as she leaned to the side and slathered more foundation on my neck.

“It wasn’t exactly premeditated.”

“No?”

“I mean, on my part, at least.”

I think. I mean, if I vaguely knew that I wanted to have sex with Harry (because who wouldn’t?) did it count as premeditated? Even if it hadn’t been my intention right then?

“And it was on his?”

“I don’t know.” I chewed lightly on my bottom lip, trying to stay still as she worked on my neck. “Maybe? He just…it just happened.”

“So are you dating?” She asked casually, and the question caught me entirely off guard, my eyes widening.

“What?”

“Has Hezra become a real thing?” She continued.

“I don’t…” I had no answer to that, because yes, in one way, Hezra had become a real thing. At least in a sexual way. I mean, we had sex. Something had obviously shifted. But nothing had been discussed, nothing changed, nothing was said.

Nothing was said about dating. Nothing was said about dates or relationships or anything. Feelings were expressed. Kisses were exchanged. Some things had changed, but not in a huge, drastic way, I didn’t think.

“No,” I finally answered. “We’re not dating.”

“So you’re just friends?”

“Yes. We’re friends.”

“Friends who have sex.”

“It’s a thing known to happen, yes.”

“Do you want to date him?” She asked now, and I glanced down at her quickly, but ZZ wasn’t looking at me at all.

“Yes.” I answered quickly, without really thinking. “Like – I mean, I had sex with him, so that says something, yeah?”

“And yet you didn’t talk about it.”

“We were a little preoccupied and then I had to be here early. Do we have to talk about it?” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “He’s been back for three days, I don’t really think it’s time I attempt to define a relationship that we just began to delve into.”

“I’m not saying you have to define anything, I just think it’s curious that you didn’t talk about it.” She defended, finally stepping away and looking back at her work, before reaching for another brush.

“I don’t think either of us need that kind of pressure right now.”

Even thinking about that – about dating Harry – gave me both butterflies and nausea. Because holy shit, that would be hard. Hard on so many levels that I wasn’t even willing to fully comprehend.

“So you’re what then?”

“We’re just – “ I struggled to summarize. “Ezra and Harry. That’s it. I mean, yeah, things have changed, but it doesn’t have to make things weird.”

“If you’re sure.” She sounded dubious.

“I think so.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you sound so skeptical?”

ZZ moved my hair off my neck as she blended, voice level. “I’m not sure how you want me to react.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m trying to react in correspondence to how you’re feeling.” She explained. “And you seem calm, so I’m…calm.”

I gave her a weird look, scrunching my nose at her feigned nonchalance. “Dude. ZZ. React how you want to react.”

“Really?” Her voice jumped in pitch and I could practically feel the excitement buzzing off of her.

“Yes.” Just because I seemed calm (I was so the opposite of calm but I was tired and like okay I was trying to be rational here and not start screaming about I had sex with Harry and he had sex with me and he called me brilliant and he tongue was on my person and I had seen him naked and he made me feel faint of breath and spinny and fuck) didn’t mean I actually was.

“Well then,” she smirked triumphantly, before her entire face erupted in a dazzling smile and she did a little victory jig. “I fucking knew it.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, laughing at her ridiculous dancing. I felt a little bit like dancing too.

“I could sense that sexual tension since day one! I totally called you two banging when he got back from tour. I should’ve made a bet.”

“And there’s the ZZ I know and like.” I laughed.

“What?” She was still dancing, her hips moving as she powdered my face.

“You were being much too calm about this.”

“I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“You being calm was freaking me out.”

“Ha.” She just laughed victoriously. “You and Harry. Hezra. The ship has sailed. I should make a t-shirt.”

“Please dear god don’t.”

“This is probably going to be the highlight of my week. It doesn’t get better than this. Is Niall Horan going to call me out of the blue and ask me to have sex with him? Because that’s the only thing that could make this week better.”

“Glad to know that my sex life affects you so much.”

“You know how I love me celebrity gossip.”

This made me pause, my breath hitching I stumbled over what to say next.

“You – I just – it’s not something that I’m trying to broadcast, y’know?”

ZZ looked confused at my change of tone, so I decided to be blunt.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” I spoke quietly, quickly, glancing around at Alfie standing in the corner, fixing his bowtie in the mirror and the small cluster of camera crew talking in the corner. “It’s – I mean, I’m not ashamed and I’m sure Harry’s not either, but it’s not somewhat that the whole world needs to know.” I mean, to be frank, if Harry hadn’t made a mess of my neck, no one would probably know but the two of us for a while. It felt safer that way.

“I’m not going to.” She assured me quickly. “When people ask why I’m walking around with a dopey look on my face, I’ll just claim that I’m the one that got to have sex with Harry Styles.”

“You’re ridiculous.” I let out a laugh in relief. “And kidding, right?”

“Yes.” She chuckled, before taking a step back and nodding in approval. “And your neck finally doesn’t look like someone ravaged it.”

“Thank you.”

She was right – it took more amounts of make up than I probably have ever applied before, but my neck looked like a smooth canvas of skin, not marred by discolored shapes.

“You’re shagging Harry Styles.” She muttered under her breath as she pressed powder onto the bridge of my nose. “Here for two months and you snag the celebrity. I’ve been here my entire life and the most I’ve ever gotten was sitting next to Jude Law on the underground.”

“Sucks to suck, doesn’t it?” I grinned, because her bitterness sounded completely playful.

“Shut up before I make you look like a raccoon.” She threatened.

“You wouldn’t. That would be insulting to your own skills.”

ZZ narrowed her eyes at me, wielding her make up brush like a weapon, before she let a smile crack through and giggled.

“I should threaten you for leverage. Make you get the foxy Irish lad’s number for me.”

“Yes, because now I have unlimited access to setting you up with all of Harry’s friends.” I agreed sarcastically.

“You’re having sex with him.” She shrugged easily. “You have that kind of power.”

I only laughed at her, shaking my head as my cheeks heated up. Sex talk did not normally make me blush – let’s have a chat about penises and vaginas right now and I will not flush in the slightest, but there was something about the way ZZ mentioned us in a sentence – Harry and intercourse and the fact that I was – or had been? – doing it with him, and I was blushing like a twelve year old girl. Because it was casual and strange and still sounded weird but also really right.

“Let’s film.” I changed the subject quickly, glancing in the mirror behind me to make sure that my neck was, indeed, covered, and I didn’t look completely awful.

“Yes, let’s.” Alfie interjected, looking over at us from the opposite side of the room, and he said two words and they were already condescending and patronizing.

I really did need to talk to this kid. Maybe Nick was right and he was threatened, but the Icy Queen treatment was getting a little ridiculous.

ZZ brushed another product onto my face, before stepping back and squinting. “You’ll do.” She said, but she sounded satisfied enough that I knew I didn’t look bad.

“Thank you.” I sent her a soft smile before rising out of the chair, grabbing the microphone from the counter and threading it underneath my t-shirt and attaching it to the mic pack clipped onto my jeans.

Alfie walked over to the set, cue cards in hand. I joined him quickly, throwing him my best I’m Cute Don’t You Want to Be Friends With Me? Smile, but he merely blinked at me before situating himself in front of the camera.

I sighed in exasperation, before closing my eyes, taking a moment, and facing the camera.



My phone vibrated with a text from Harry a few moments after I was released from my film class on Friday night. I thought it was just a continuation of our argument about fries, but it was an invitation to dinner.

Dinner at Nick’s tonight. Come over?

too much work to do, just gonna get some takeout. Have fun!

but it’s Friday! Please? Pleaaaaaaase?

Work. Much of it to do and I saw you yesterday!

Yes and?

Hang out with your friends.

I’d like to. So come to Nick’s.

maybe another day. I put off too much this week and I gotta buckle down

Just as I sent that, there was a text message from Nick that popped up on my screen.

He’s gonna be whiny all night if you don’t come. Get over here.

jesus he’s not a toddler I sent back as a reply.

He’s a big baby and you know it. Now come over.

I switched back to my conversation with Harry as he texted back.

I will repay you…in sexual favors…and hair gel…please come to dinner.

I don’t even use hair gel??? What are you on???

Lou left a bunch of it in my car I need to get rid of it okay. Now dinner.

how about give it back to her?

…and what kind of sexual favors?

…the good kind. ;)

Not the adolescent winky face.

;)

;)

;)

;)

I’m not gonna stop until you agree to come to dinner.

;)

;)

;)

JESUS FINE I WILL GET THE TUBE RIGHT NOW

It’s cool don’t bother I’m almost there

omg you have problems you creepy stalker boy

Yes probably see you in 3!

stop texting and driving you’re gonna die and then the world will explode and I will be a little sad but also laugh gleefully

But then you don’t get your sexual favors.

fuck off

AND STOP TEXTING ME