Perfect Teeth

Both Harry and I spent the drive from New York back to Connecticut quiet and dozing in our seats. Mom had tried to stir up conversation as she navigated her way around airport traffic and onto the highway, and Harry happily obliged her, smiling and chatting about the flight, but I could see him fighting exhaustion every time I glanced back in the rear view mirror. He was yawning and his eyes were fluttering, but he was too polite to say anything.

Finally, I reached forward and turned on the radio, setting it to a low lull in the background.

“I’m gonna try and nap,” I said, adjusting my seat back a little and settling into the side of the car. “So keep the chatting to a minimum, yeah?”

My mother sent me a raised eyebrow. “Sure thing, your highness.” She quipped.

“Remember how happy you are to have me back in the same continent as you.” I reminded her. Harry let out a chuckle from the backseat. We made eye contact through the mirror in the visor and he shot me a funny look, widening his eyes and flaring out his nostrils. I stuck my tongue out in retaliation.

My mother only rolled her eyes and looked back at the road, but I could see the small smile attempting to creep up on her face.

I was tired, but I didn’t particularly feel like actually keeping my eyes closed. I kept stealing glances at Harry in the rear view mirror and the sun visor that I had pulled down. It didn’t take five minutes for him to doze off into a light sleep, head pressed against the doorframe and his mouth hanging slightly open. I tried not to stay completely fascinated by his lips, but it was an unsuccessful mission. I hadn’t kissed him yet, hadn’t kissed him in seven days – there were too many people at the airport when I found him, settling for a quick squeeze before ushering him back to where my mom was double parked beside a minivan, and then I wasn’t going to kiss him in front of my mother, even though I really, really wanted to.

The drive to New Haven went quickly. When I wasn’t dissecting different parts of Harry’s face, I was taking in the parts of the highway I had missed. The leaves had already turned, a New England fall much more vibrant than the one we’d gotten in London.

I felt at home in London sometimes, I think. When I was in my flat and when I was in the studio and even sometimes when I was in the Tube, surrounded by hundreds of people I didn’t know but felt a certain kinship with, I had thoughts that London was the place where I was supposed to be. Maybe it wasn’t where I was supposed to be for the rest of my life, but it certainly felt like where I was supposed to be now.

New Haven felt like real home. The past four days I’d been on edge, rushing around to complete things and not feeling quite like myself, but in the car driving down the highway, I felt more comfortable than I had in over a week. I wondered how much of that was my mom and Connecticut and actually trees with pretty leaves and how much of that was Harry.

Harry slept the entire drive into town. I wanted to point out different buildings to him, but he looked too peaceful to disturb. He stayed asleep as my mom pulled up to the driveway of the brick house I’d spent my entire childhood in, the same haphazardly trimmed hedges lining the porch (my dad was not very good at house hold chores, no matter how much he liked to believe he was) and the badly painted gnome I made in the sixth grade still perched by the door.

“Boy must be tired.” Mom remarked as she cut the engine, stealing a glance back at Harry.

“It’s been a really long week for him. He’s been in like, eight different time zones this week alone.”

My mother nodded sympathetically. “I’ll go in and try to convince your father that the Scary Dad act can wait until the morning.”

“Good plan.”

“See you in the house.” She gave my shoulder a squeeze as she got out of the car.

She was considerate enough to give us some alone time and I was grateful. I kind of just really, really wanted to kiss him.

It took three shakes of his shoulder for Harry to wake up, and even then he just looked at me kind of bleary eyed and blinked a lot. I thought maybe he would have heard me opening and closing the passenger door, or even opening his, but he was out.

“Get up, knobhead,” I prodded his shoulder gently. “We’ve arrived.”

“Already?” He mumbled and I smiled.

“We’ve been driving for like two hours. You were asleep before we even left New York.”

“Ah shit,” He cursed, straightening up some in his seat and moving a hand up to rub at his eyes. “Didn’t mean to, ‘m just really knackered.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching a hand out and running my fingers through some of the hair on his forehead, matted down from being squished against the car door. “But let’s get you inside and into a real bed.”

Harry shook his head. “Need to charm your parents first.”

“My mom was smitten from the second you started snoring—“

“—I did not—“

“—you so did, don’t even. You’ve won her over already, but I’m sure you can be plenty charming in the morning as well.”

I intentionally didn’t mention charming my Dad, because how that went depended on how saucy my father was feeling today.

“Fine.” Harry conceded, successfully unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing for his jacket. I stepped away, heading for the trunk where my suitcases were stored, but Harry’s hand roped around my wrist.

“Where’s your mum?” He asked.

I nodded towards the house. “She left me to wake you up.”

Harry said, “Good.” Then he pulled me back to him, rested his hand on the small of my back, and reached over to kiss me. I let out an unintentional sigh against his mouth, letting my eyes flutter shut as his mouth moved against mine slowly, softly. It wasn’t a long kiss, just a few seconds, but it was enough to make me feel warm and relaxed against him.

He pulled away slowly, a stupid little smirk on his mouth, and then pressed one more hard kiss against my mouth before untangling his arms and moving to get out of the car.

I took a slightly dazed step back and then shook my head, focusing on extracting my suitcases from the trunk and making it up the ten stairs to the house

Harry slung his duffel bag on his shoulder and had my small carry on in his hands, while I carefully slung my backpack and camera bag over my shoulders.

“This is where you grew up?” Harry asked, shutting the trunk quickly and then joining me as I walked up the path from the driveway to the front steps.

“My parents bought it a few years before I was born.” I told him. “Apparently it was the only house they could agree on, and that’s only because it was equal distance from both of their jobs.”

Which was a story I could believe, because besides the big things, my parent hardly agreed on much. Mom was systematic, practical, the best problem solver I knew. Dad was inventive, a little unrealistic, and very relaxed.

“What do they do?” Harry asked, climbing the stairs behind me.

“My dad’s an engineer and my mom’s technically a lawyer. She used to work for the state, but now she works with local nonprofits and women’s shelters with a bunch of legal stuff.”

“So all of the Callil’s are a brilliant bunch?” He quipped, and I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not, but I shot him a look anyway.

My mom left the door open and I hadn’t realized how much I missed walking into the front hallway until I was doing it and stuck with a wave of nostalgia. The front table was still piled high with coats and envelopes and magazines and the plant my father insisted on having in the foyer (“We have to have a plant. Plants make a home!”) was looking dry and dead in the corner. He was absolute shit with plants, always forgetting to water them and remember they needed direct sunlight, but my mother would pick a new one up for him dutifully when the previous one died.

“We do okay.” I said to Harry, carefully setting my backpack and camera bag down in the front hall, smiling wider as a feline head stuck out from the hallway and immediately started trotting towards me.

“Chunky Salsa!” I called out in glee, just as Harry snorted behind me.

“Chunky Salsa?” He repeated. “You named your cat Chunky Salsa?”

“Don’t mock her.” I picked the large tabby up in my arms quickly, letting out an ‘oof’ as I shifted her around. My biceps were considerably lacking in muscle mass and Chunky Salsa was getting rounder and rounder by the day. She let out a contented meow as I nuzzled her into my chest and turned back around to Harry. “Technically her name is Salsa, but we strongly felt like the Chunky was implied.”

“And you don’t think that offends her?” Harry dropped his duffel bag by the door and bent down to greet the cat in my arms. “Hello, lovely to meet you. How’re you today? I’m Harry.”

“She says hi, nice to meet you too.” I informed him, scratching Chunky under the chin. She leaned her head back and continued to purr. “She’s having a wonderful day because her wonderful, fantastic owner has come back. And she would appreciate it if you didn’t belittle her name. She embraces the chunk.”

“Understood.” Harry nodded seriously. “All chunk will be embraced from now on. I apologize for my mistake.”

“Good.” I said, and then, “Are you hungry? We were going to stop for something on the way but you were too adorable to wake up.”

“I could eat.”

“Then onto the kitchen. It’s that way.” I pointed him past the living room and down the hallway by the stairs.

Both my mother and father were in the kitchen – my mother standing in front of the fridge, seeming to scan it, and my father sitting on one of the stools at the breakfast nook, laptop open. Mom was laughing and Dad had the self-satisfied grin he had on his face when he told a joke he found really funny. (I know this face because I have inherited it from him.)

I passed Chunky Salsa off to Harry – he looked a little bewildered, but pleased as the cat curled up against his chest – and immediately went to my dad.

“Pops!” I called out, waiting impatiently as he stood up for a hug. Scott Callil was tallish, wiry, and wore a lot of corduroy pants. He had thick, brown glasses that were probably a little too hip for a man of 55, t-shirts with weird engineering puns on them, and a tuft of grayish brown hair that could not be tamed. He easily tied with my mom (and okay, maybe (maybe) Harry) as my very favorite person ever.

“Ezzie,” He grinned out affectionately, squeezing me tightly before pulling away and examining my face. “Finally, someone to eat Indian food with.” The rejoice in his voice was apparent.

“Mom still won’t budge?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’ve tried everything – bribery, chores, sexual favors—“

“—DUDE—“

“—and still she refuses. She’ll do Chinese food and Thai food, but apparently Indian food from Tati’s is the line.”

“The smell never leaves your clothes. It takes days to get out.” My mother voiced her argument, pulling out some things from the fridge and then turning to Harry. “Are you allergic to anything? Vegan? Vegetarian?”

Harry had been quiet the entire time I was talking to my dad, still sleepily nuzzling Chunky Salsa in his arms, and looked a little startled that my mother was talking to him. “Um, no, no major allergies.” He replied. “Not vegan.”

“He will pretty much eat anything.” I interjected. This was true. Whenever he went out and I brought home leftovers, I no longer expected to actually eat them, just left them for Harry. He claimed that he had to eat excess calories because of the intensive workouts he was doing with his trainer and I claimed that he was just trying to find an excuse for being a fat ass. It was okay. I didn’t judge.

Harry nodded at this.

“Grilled cheese okay?” My mom asked.

“Grilled cheese is perfect, thank you.”

“Dad,” I introduced, gesturing between Pops and Harry. “This is Harry. Harry, this is my dad. You can call him Scott. Or Pops.”

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Harry leaned down and set Chunks on the floor delicately, before rising back to his full height and sticking a hand out for my father to shake. “I’m Harry. You have a lovely home.”

“I know who you are, kid.” My dad shook Harry’s hand briefly, sizing him up with a raised eyebrow and I laughed a little to myself. “I’m on Twitter. I’m cool. I’m hip.” Proving, of course, that he was neither cool nor hip. “And you can call me Mr. Callil.”

I rolled my eyes.

Harry nodded, not even looking the least bit phased at my father’s really poor attempts at intimidation. He was even grinning his dimpled smile when they pulled their hands away. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Callil.”

I wanted to tell Harry that he didn’t have to call my dad Mr. Callil, that this was just my father’s way of attempting to fuck with him, but I didn’t want to ruin my father’s fun, so I just took my dad’s seat on the breakfast nook and opened his laptop to see what he was doing.

I was not even a little surprised when Harry’s Twitter page came up. In fact, I laughed a little to myself, checked that my father was logged into his own Twitter account – he seemed to only ever use it to Tweet me stupid things or for business or to remind me what Ezra Koenig was occasionally the funnier Ezra– and proceeded to retweet every single one of Harry’s tweets, starting at the top of the timeline and working my way down. I was wondering how far down I could get before someone stopped me. I had high hopes.

I was only briefly listening to what my dad and Harry were saying, not entirely too concerned. If I knew my father – and like, yeah, I knew my father, we were the same person in a lot of ways – he would spend the entirety of the rest of tonight trying to fuck up Harry’s game. He’d grunt a lot and make weird small talk and give off slightly unwelcoming vibes, trying to see how Harry’d react. Then, when Harry hopefully didn’t break, in the morning, my dad would be chummy. He’d make some stupid jokes and be a Chatty Cathy. This was the same routine Pops had used on my very first long-term boyfriend in my junior year of high school except the intimidation period was two months, not one night. Harry was staying with us this week, so I hoped the process was a little expedited.

The entire thing made me smile.

My mom must’ve caught my grin as she prepared the grilled cheese at the burners set into the island, laughing a little as she layered pepperjack and cheddar cheese onto the really good bread. “Do you think Harry’ll break?” She asked quietly, laughing to herself.

“No,” I shook my head, looking up at her as I continued to retweet. All of the coworkers and business “acquaintances” that followed Dad on Twitter were going to have a very interesting timeline in the morning. I cackled internally. “Harry’s got media training and he’s probably the politest person I’ve ever met. It’ll take much more than some mean eyebrow raises and awkward pauses to break him. Dad either needs to give up or try harder.”

My mom continued to laugh. “How long’s Harry staying again?”

“No idea.” I shook my head. “Probably at least till Friday. Maybe a little later. When do you want him gone by?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m still surprised you invited him. He can still as long as you do. Or longer, if he likes. Probably be nicer to us than you are.”

“Probably. But he’s not nearly as cute.”

“And where exactly is he sleeping, is my next question.”

“Where exactly do you want him to sleep?” I turned the question back around on her.

Harry and my dad were still talking, standing at the edge of the kitchen. Chunky Salsa was nuzzling against Harry’s legs, having successfully thrown herself onto the floor to roll around on the top of his boots. There was the third Calllil he had won over.

My mother shrugged and tried to look casual, but she was so failing. “The guest bedroom’s full of random stuff, but I could clear off the bed tonight, I guess.”

“Or he can just stay in my room.” I suggested, smiling at her as she tried to beat around the bush.

“Is sharing a bed something the two of you do often?”

“Often enough.” I answered honestly.

“Do you need condoms?” She asked, finally looking up from the grilled cheese to settle me with a level stare.

“No.” I shook my head, and for a moment my mother almost looked relieved. “I’m on birth control.”

She laughed at the same time I did and flipped one grilled cheese. We’d had the safe sex talk a very long time ago, and while I wasn’t keen on telling her every detail of my sexual endeavors, she knew enough. And she trusted me, which was important.

When the grilled cheese sandwiches were finally done, my mother beckoned Harry over and he took a seat right next to me on the island, looking hungrily at the plate in front of him.

“Have fun chatting with Pops?” I asked him, just as I took the first bite of cheesy goodness. My mother’s grilled cheese sandwiches were the End All, Be All of grilled cheese sandwiches. I often told her that she needed to enter a competition, because there could not be grilled cheese better than this, or that we should start a business endeavor where she made really delicious grilled cheeses and I made milkshakes and that was how we were going to make our first million.

“He’s nice.” Harry answered diplomatically, glancing to the next room over, where my father and mother had both excused themselves while we ate. I logged out of my Dad’s Twitter when the food was ready and I was eagerly waiting for when he logged on again and realized what I’d done. There would probably be some retaliation, but bring it on.

“He’s just fucking with you for fun.” I told Harry.

“Really?”

“Really. It’s a thing he does to boys that enter the Callil house. Don’t give him any reaction and he’ll probably be really nice to you in the morning.”

“Is this something he does often?” Harry asked through a mouth full of grilled cheese. “Intimidate boys that you bring home?”

“He’s only done it once, if that’s what you’re asking. And it wasn’t nearly as funny to watch as you two.” Mainly because my ex-boyfriend had stayed really quiet and then refused to come over again for like two months.

Harry just hummed and continued eating his grilled cheese. He shoulders slumped and his elbows rested against the countertop, head hanging tiredly as he chewed. I leaned over and bumped shoulders with him lightly when we both finished our sandwiches.

“C’mon,” I said, “let’s get our stuff and then get you into a bed. You look like you’re gonna pass out any second.”



The only downside to my childhood bedroom was the bed. Everything else was pretty fab – the collages on the walls, the stacks of books I’d pick up at thrift stores during high school in an attempt to seem cultured, the plush orange chair in the corner that I used to film all my videos from. It was a great room, the room that had grown with me, expanding and changing as I did. I shot my first video in that room, hit my first million subscribers in that room, had sex for the very first time in that room. It was great in a lot of ways. But the bed was just awful.

It was a twin, barely big enough for one person comfortably, let alone two, and it squeaked every time you so much as shifted a hip. The middle of the mattress sunk down a little from years of use. By the time I realized that I probably needed a bigger bed, I was leaving for college in a few months and it seemed useless. I’d only been home for a summer before leaving for London and the tiny bed hadn’t really been a problem.

Now it was gonna suck. Harry was warm and cuddly, but he was also very tall and very gangly and not always in complete control of his limbs. I was going to wake up with an elbow in the back or a knee in my ribcage, I was calling that right now.

“I know the bed is small,” I started as Harry and I both entered my childhood room, setting my suitcase and camera bag down by my desk. “And I’d offer you the guest bedroom, but they’ve been using it as storage, so there isn’t exactly a bed to sleep on in there.”

“It’s fine.” Harry didn’t seem all that bothered. “It’s a bed. I’m good.” And then he dropped his duffel bag on the floor, slid out of his boots rather gracefully, and plopped down face first.

By the time I had washed my face, thrown my hair up, and changed into a pair of boy shorts and a t-shirt, Harry had wiggled out of his jeans and underneath the covers. His breathing had evened out and his eyes fluttered behind his lashes when I gently slid in next to him, but they didn’t open.

“Thanks for inviting me to your house,” He sleepily murmured against my hair as I curled up next to him, successfully settling into his back as he curled an arm around my waist.

I only smiled and twisted my head back, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw before finding the perfect spot on the pillow to rest my head.

We were both out within minutes.



Breakfast was a big deal in the Callil household. We were breakfast people, through and through. My mom was partial to the more decadent side of breakfast, eggs benedict and things that had bolognaise and that could be had with mimosas, while my dad was a firm fry-up man. He liked chorizo and eggs and potatoes cooked in bacon grease. I liked pretty much all breakfast foods, with the exception of eggs unless they were scrambled, and the only thing I was really fussy about was my French toast. Like milkshakes, there was an art to the perfect French toast. This art form included good bread, the perfect eggs to milk to cinnamon ratio for the liquid, and the right amount of cooking so the outside was crispy and delicious and the inside was soft and gooey and perfect for sopping up syrup. It was something that we argued about constantly, never able to pick what we wanted for breakfast or settle the argument on what the superior food was.

I figured the time zone change would actually make me sleep later, messing up my internal clock entirely, but I woke up Wednesday morning at half past eight and there was no way I was going to bed. I felt alert and awake and also I had so called it, because Harry’s knee was digging into my left butt cheek and it hurt.

I extracted myself from my bed slowly, grabbing my laptop from my backpack before heading downstairs.

I knew my dad would be up, sitting in the kitchen with his morning paper and cup of coffee, but I hadn’t expected to see my mom in the kitchen as well, one arm wrapped around my father’s neck affectionately as she stood behind him and read over his shoulder.

Part of me wanted to make a face at their early morning affection, but I was so stoked that I was with my parents, my awesome, wonderful parents that I hadn’t realized I missed nearly as much as I did until I saw them again, so I just made a little ‘yuck’ noise in the back of my throat and took my stool next to my dad.

“Why’re you up so early?” My mom asked, unwrapping her arm from my dad and leaning over to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Wasn’t expecting you to be up until after ten.”

“My internal clock’s all wrong.” I shrugged. “And Harry is way too big for that bed. There was a limb in my back.”

“He could always sleep in the guest room.” Pops said, looking like this was an idea that would please him greatly, and I rolled my eyes a little, looking away from him and pulling my laptop open.

“Don’t trip, chocolate chip,” I assured him. “He’s perfectly respectable.” For now. That would probably change tonight, when he wasn’t exhausted, but there were some things you just didn’t share with your parents.

“He’s interested in having sex with you.” My dad pointed out. “So that means nothing.”

“They’ve already had sex.” My mom informed my father casually, shrugging. I blushed, but it was true, and I couldn’t take it back. “They’re safe about it. They’re both adults.”

“Barely. Barely adults.” My dad interjected.

“I’ve been making my own solid source of income since I was sixteen.” I argued. “The lease for the flat is in my name and I’m paying for my own schooling. I’d say I’m more than barely an adult.”

Do not belittle me, father, I wanted to say, but held my tongue that far.

“And how old is Harry?” My dad asked.

“Nineteen.” I answered, even though I wanted to say, Google it. “But he’s probably more of an adult than I am, like really. He’s bought a house and cars and is financially set for the rest of his life. He knows responsibility.”

“She has valid points.” My mother said and my dad just continued to kind of grumble, toying with the edge of his glasses, which were now pinched between two fingers as he brought one hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose.

“Do I need to have the intentions talk with him?” He finally asked. “Scare the shit out of him?”

“I mean, by all means, don’t let me stop you. Do what you want. But you probably won’t shake him.” I shrugged. “He’s solid.”

“Are you two officially dating then?” Mom asked. “Because one day TMZ is saying yes and then E! is saying no and the one time I tried to ask you, you were very vague. You’d think I’d be able to get a straight answer out of my daughter, but apparently not.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, sliding out of the booth to go over to the coffee machine, turning my back to my parents as I pulled out one of the chai tea pods and filled a mug with water.

“We’re…” I struggled to find the right words. “Working on it? Maybe?”

When I turned back around, my dad looked confused and my mom looked incredulous.

“Do you not want to date him, Ezra?” My dad asked, eyes scanning my face.

I scoffed a little. Did I not want to date him? Seriously? Of course I wanted to date him.

“I don’t want to make things complicated.” I said instead.

“I don’t understand.” My shook his head. Of course he didn’t understand; he was from a world of yes or no, black or no. Either you were dating or you weren’t. He met my mom in the seventies, and while they were wild and young and free, they’d confirmed that they were dating before he so much as kissed her, because that’s the way he was raised.

“Well,” I started, turning back around to pour the water from my mug into the machine and press start. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, Harry’s kind of famous. Like, really, really famous. Sometimes paparazzi stalk him. He’s got enough Twitter followers to inhabit New York City twice. And that just makes things harder – or complicated – because he’s already got a bunch of pressure on him as it is. I don’t want to add to it.”

“So you guys aren’t dating.” My dad tried to summarize.

“I mean, like, I don’t know. Not officially?”

“And yet you’ve had sex with him.”

My mother turned towards my father with a raised eyebrow. “That sounds like the beginning of a slut-shaming comment.”

I had to agree. “Tread carefully.” I advised.

“I apologize.” My farther backtracked. “I’m just trying to get my facts straight.”

I could understand that. It wasn’t exactly the simplest of situations.

“We’re just Harry and Ezra right now.” I explained. “We care about each other. We’re not seeing anyone else. We’re trying to keep it simple. I don’t want to like, mess anything up.” Even if a part of me really, really, really wanted to.

“And you think officially being in a relationship will mess things up?” Asked my mom.

“I don’t know, but I don’t know if that’s a risk I want to take right now. Why try and mess with something that’s working right now?”

“So you care about him and he cares about you, but you’re not dating?”

“Yes.” I replied. “I think.”

“And you like him?” My father asked.

“Yes.” I answered quickly, easily. “I like him a lot.”

“As long as he treats you well and you guys are safe, I’m happy for you.” My father finally supplied, crossing the kitchen quickly to pull me up into another hug and forehead kiss. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed you a lot, kid. This house is lonely without you constantly making noise. I missed tripping over your extensions cords and filming lights.”

“I missed you a lot too.” I said, beckoning my mom over with a finger to join our little family hug. She wrapped an arm around me and an arm around my dad. Pops was taller than the both of us by quite a lot, but it worked.

I could see Chunky Salsa wondering into the room over my mom’s shoulder, sauntering into the kitchen to see why the three crazy Callils were all huddled next to the coffee machine on the counter, just standing there hugging each other. She pressed her head against my bare calf, nudging it, before plopping herself directly in the middle of all of our feet.

“So,” I mumbled into my mom’s shoulder, leaning my head to the side so I could speak easier. “Since it’s my first morning back, can we just bypass all of the arguing and agree on having French toast?”

Both my parents let out a simultaneous sigh, but they obliged.



My parents had the day off, but neither of them seemed particularly keen on spending it with me. When I asked what they wanted to do today, they both waved me off.

“Show Harry around New Haven.” My mom suggested. “It shouldn’t be too busy.”

It was probably going to be crazy busy actually, people running to the grocery stores for last minute Thanksgiving dinner things, but I figured if we stayed away from the grocery stores and kept it to downtown, things shouldn’t be too bad.

There were things I wanted to show him, too, like the little coffee shop that named all of it’s drinks after famous Yale alum or the really cheap, hole in the wall thrift shop that was gritty and packed and kind of wonderful. I loaded a plate up with two pieces of French toast, drenched in syrup, and a glass of orange juice before carrying it up the stairs.

Serving him breakfast in bed seemed like a little much, but I figured it would lessen the blow of waking him up before ten o’clock in the morning.

I set the plate carefully on the end table and then climbed on the bed quickly, straddling my knees over Harry’s turned body. He was on his side, facing the wall, and there was drool collecting on the pillow underneath his lip.

“Harry,” I murmured gently, leaning down to place my lips on his neck. He stirred a little, but not much. “Wake up.” I let my lips travel down a little more, occupying the space where his jaw met his neck and sucked gently.

My hands traveled from his arms, rolling him over on his back while he let out a little groan, to his chest, running underneath the fabric of his t-shirt, until they hooked underneath the band of his boxer briefs and tickled the skin there.

“Is this really happening right now?” Harry rasped out, his eyes fluttering open slowly.

“Is what really happening right now?”

“Morning sex?”

“Is that a thing you’d be interested in?” I teased, letting the edges of my fingertips graze down just a little further. His abdomen tensed and he twitched underneath me.

Harry gave me a look that said, duh.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” I hummed.

“So that’s not a thing that’s happening right now?” His voice was all gravely and brilliant, as it always was in the morning, sleep still heavy in his words. It took twice as long for the words to get out. Anyone else and maybe that would’ve irritated me, because Lord knows I talk fast, but with Harry, I found myself enjoying the extended seconds he took to form his vowels and sounds.

“Unfortunately not.” I slowly extracted my fingers from underneath the waistband and brought them up to his chest, tapping a little beat against his abdomen. I wanted to take his shirt off, trace the tattoos on the skin there, but I was afraid that would probably give him the wrong idea. “I do have something almost as good as morning sex, though.”

“Mmm, still not morning sex.” He shook his head in disagreement.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“On a holiday?”

“Well it’s certainly something you should be thankful for.”

Harry let out a breathy chuckle. “Believe me, I am.” One of his hands moved to my waist, sliding down until one hand was on my butt, squeezing. “Incredibly thankful, even if it’s been like a week.”

“One day won’t kill you.”

“It might. You don’t know. At least if we did it now and died later tonight, I could die knowing that I had some pretty great morning sex and it doesn’t get much better than that.”

“We have places to be today.”

“Do we?”

“Yes.” I nodded, and then reached over to grab the plate of French toast, conscious of Harry’s hands as they moved up my torso and where his eyes strayed as I did so. He was feisty in the morning. This was a thing I’d have to remember. “Now eat your French toast as I tell you.”

He twisted a little and sat up against the wall. I rested further down on his legs and passed him the plate.

He sent me a grateful smile and cut off a piece of French toast with the side of his fork.

“We have to be back later tonight for a Hanukah dinner at my Dad’s best friend’s house—“

“You guys are Jewish?”

“No, but my Dad’s best friend is and every year they invite us over.”

“Are you sure it’s okay that I come to that?” Harry seemed skeptical.

“You’ll probably have to sign a few autographs and take some pictures with his daughters and nieces, but you’re totally welcome. I mean, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to, but they’re totally cool with it.”

“No, yeah, I’ll go.” Harry agreed. “I was gonna go over to my mate’s for Hanukah dinner back in London anyway.”

I felt bad immediately, reaching up to pinch his chest. He didn’t even flinch. “Dude, you didn’t tell me you had plans. You didn’t have to come if you had plans.”

“I wanted to come, though.” He said simply, like it was no big deal. But it was a big deal. He didn’t need to cancel plans for me.

“But now you’ve had to cancel on your mates and I know you hardly get to see them as it is—“

“Ezra.” He interrupted.

“What?”

“I had a shit last few days and I wanted to see you. A few rescheduling’s are fine. Don’t worry about it.” He said this sincerely.

I think he meant to reassure me, but I just frowned even harder. “Why were your days shit?” I asked.

Harry seemed to realize that he let that one slip, averting my eyes for a second, looking down at his plate as he cut off another piece, before looking up at me and sighing. “Just a lot of damage control, I guess.”

“Because of the album leaking?”

“Yeah.” But when he said it, he kind of shrugged and I knew that wasn’t the only reason.

“Because of us?” I asked again, tentatively, and Harry’s shoulders dropped a little. I knew I was right and instantly my stomach clenched. Was it happening already? Were things going to go to shit so soon?

“Is it because of what Piers Morgan asked?” I continued.

Harry dropped the fork on the plate and brought one hand up to rub at his lips. He had syrup near his chin. “Kind of.” He answered vaguely. “More so…what I answered.”

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “But you said no.”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I said no, I don’t know. I was flustered – I wasn’t expecting that from him at all. And we haven’t really – I mean, we never talked about it and I was caught off guard. It got people speculating again.” Harry kind of shrugged. “Normally I don’t care about that kind of shit – no, I don’t care about it, let people talk – but management’s just gotten kind of like, weird with it all.”

“What does that mean? Weird with it all?”

“Nothing.” Harry diverted quickly. “It’s just stupid PR shit. It doesn’t really matter.”

But it did. It so did. I was at the point where I maybe wanted him to be my boyfriend so badly that it was a struggle to keep the thoughts to myself, but I hadn’t necessarily been thinking about the logistics.

“Harry.” I pressed. “Tell me what that means.”

“Not today, okay?” He asked, but it was more like he was pleading with me. “Let’s just – let’s have these few days to just forget about all of that and just enjoy the holidays and spend time with your family, okay? You haven’t seen them in forever. And I’ve never spent any substantial amount of time in New Haven and now I have the best tour guide around. Let’s just focus on that.”

I didn’t want to let him get away with it, wanted to call bullshit on his diversion tactic the second he brought it up, but he was pleading with his eyes and so I let it go.

I could already fill in the blanks in my head, anyway. Management didn’t want us spending time together. Being photographed together. I didn’t follow closely to Harry’s relationships in the past, but I knew that all of them had been controversial. There was always a ton of press and drama involved and I knew that couldn’t reflect happily back to the band.

He wanted the holidays. I would give him that.

“Okay.” I nodded slowly, trying to not feel weird all of the sudden about sitting on top of him and knowing that he was keeping something from me and that whatever this was going on between us was causing him some kind of stress. Even if it wasn’t directly because of me, it was because of me. “Fine. I’ll go shower while you finish your food and then you can take one after.”

“Or you can wait until I finish and we can take one together.” Harry suggested cheekily.

I laughed. “This house has the best water pressure of any shower I’ve ever used and I’m so not sharing that with you.”



All of the schools were closed for the Thanksgiving holidays, but I still showed Harry the schools that I went to anyway. I pointed out things of significance as we slowly drove by, like the swings where I had jumped off in second grade, landing hard with my feet firmly planted on the ground, the shock so hard that my already-loose front tooth came flying out, and the parking space I had coveted my last year of high school. He seemed genuinely interested in each fact that I blabbered on about as we passed by, smiling and laughing at my jokes as I showed him places where important parts of my childhood had taken place.

Downtown New Haven wasn’t incredibly packed, just a little busier than normal. The shops were open until six and it was barely twelve, but the morning rush was on. Most of the Yale students had left for Thanksgiving , but there was still a fair amount of youths roaming the downtown area.

There were no paparazzi in New Haven (mainly because dude, it’s New Haven) and Harry didn’t seem especially worried about people, so I didn’t really think about. We got coffee at Bulldog Coffee Shop and Harry bought four faded, stupid t-shirts at my favorite tiny thrift store and then I dragged him into New Haven Books, which was the largest independent bookstore in New Haven and basically like Barnes & Noble but with brick walls and slightly more expensive.

I left Harry in the nonfiction while I went to browse through the mixed media and poetry. I was crouched down in front of the poetry section, head twisted to the side as I searched for an Ezra Pound book, when there were suddenly footsteps next to me and a voice by my head.

“Um, Ezra?” Someone asked timidly, and when I straightened myself up, two teenage girls were standing next to me. They looked young, maybe fifteen tops, and they both looked incredibly anxious. One girl was holding a phone that had DFTBA inscribed in the back of the case.

Instantly, I knew they were subscribers.

“Hi!” I greeted cheerfully, sending them both huge smiles. “How’re you?”

Both girls seemed to let out a sigh of relief. “I thought it was you,” the brunette girl said. “But I wasn’t really sure and I was really nervous.”

“It’s totally me.” I laughed. “Don’t even worry. What’re your names?”

“I’m Sadie.” The brunette announced. Her friend, blonde and taller, smiled as she said, “And I’m Paddy.”

“It’s lovely to meet you both. How’re you today?”

Both were doing spectacularly well – bored because of school vacation and browsing because the first few days of vacation, if you weren’t traveling, weren’t that exciting. They were incredibly polite, both saying how much they loved my videos and my Twitter and my personality in general (I wish blushing by then) and that they were really happy to see me here, because they both started watching my videos after I moved to London and felt like they missed out, being from my hometown and all.

We were chatting about book recommendations when Harry found us, eyes scanning the back of a book as he sided up next to me.

“I think I’m going to get this.” He said, waving the nonfiction anthology in his hands, and then he looked up and noticed the two teenagers staring at him, eyes slightly wide.

“Oh, hi,” he said, sending them both smiles. “I’m Harry.”

The look they both shared was the visual representation of “holy shit holy shit holy shit.”

I could feel that.

To be honest, I was a little surprised no one had recognized him by now. He’d gotten a few questioning glares, like people were trying to figure out where they knew him from, but no one had approached us.

“Hi,” Paddy squeaked out, blinking rapidly.

“Oh my God.” Sadie said.

I couldn’t help but giggle a little, sending them both friendly smiles, before turning to Harry. “Nonfiction? Really?”

“I think it’s interesting.” He shrugged. “People’s lives are fascinating.”

“I think I had you pegged as more of a deep brooding, Bukowski reader, but I’ll take it.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended by that or not.”

I shrugged.

“Can we – can we get a picture with both of you?” Paddy asked hesitantly, eyes flickering between the two of us quickly. “If you’re not like, too busy?”

“We are kind of the opposite of busy,” I laughed. “And you can totally have a picture. Do you want me to take one of you guys with him?” I jerked my head towards Harry.

I had no illusions of who was the more sought after person between the two of us.

“Can we all take one together?” Sadie asked. “Like selfie style?”

It wasn’t the easiest picture to take, mainly because Harry had to be a bazillion feet tall and crouch down so the rest of us all fit into the frame, but after maybe thirteen different tries, both girls were satisfied. They were thanking us profusely and Harry was just smiling and cracking stupid jokes, looking one hundred percent like the well-mannered and charismatic pop star that he was. Approximately six hugs and fourteen compliments to both Harry and myself later, the girls had to go, giving us both waves and smiles as they headed towards the entrance, a giggle shared between the two of them.

“I think you just made their year.” I remarked to Harry after they left, turning towards him as we ducked behind a different aisle.

“Me?” He shook his head. “They already had those smiles on their face when I showed up. It was just a bonus. Does that happen often? You getting recognized?”

“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “More in cities than anywhere else. It happens on the Tube a lot.”

Harry let out a hum. “I guess I just never thought about it.”

“I mean, I’m no you,” I told him. “I don’t need security and there aren’t mobs of teenage girls running after me in the streets, but it happens enough for it to be a thing.”

Harry nodded and let out a hum. “Find anything you want?” He asked then, looking away from me and towards the windowsill. “And I think I’m going to need lunch soon.”



“There is no way we can have sex on my bed.” We’d been back from Hanukah dinner and inside the house no more than fifteen minutes when Harry slid behind me as I looked into the refrigerator, his hands falling more on my ass than my waist, and whispered the suggestion in my ear. He was lucky it was late and both of my parents had already decided to go to bed. My Crazy Nana was coming in early tomorrow and they needed all the rest they could get.

“Why not?” He pouted.

“It’s a twin. It squeaks a lot. I have sheets with cats on them.” I listed.

“Gettin’ all the pus—“

“—don’t even.”

“But I really want to defile your childhood bed.” Harry continued.

“It’s already been defiled.”

“Then why are you so opposed to doing it again?”

“Because it was defiled before the bed springs got ruined and now it squeaks like crazy. My parents are progressive, but I highly doubt they want to be kept up by bed springs all night.”

“Okay,” Harry thought for a moment, his hands still sliding up and down my ass. Okay, that I didn’t mind. “What about defiling somewhere else?”

I paused a little and weighed those options in my head, shutting the fridge and turning towards him. “What are you suggesting?”

“Let’s make a fort.” He said.

“A fort?” I repeated, narrowing my eyes a little in thought. “Where?”

“Your room.” Harry supplied. “You’ve got floor space. And blankets. It’ll probably be more comfortable than your bed. Because that thing is small.”

“Yes, I know.” I told him. “I woke up with your knee digging into my ass.”

“You’ve got a lovely arse.” He shrugged, making a face like, what can you do?

I wanted to glare at him, but instead I just laughed. I did have a lot of floor space and we probably could make a huge, comfortable bed in the middle of my floor with all of the blankets and pillows in the house.

“Okay.” I agreed. “We can make a fort in my room. I’m not outwardly agreeing to fort sex—” I was totally agreeing to fort sex. “—but let’s make a fort. There are extra blankets in the hall closet by the bathroom. I’ll start grabbing pillows. Reconvene in five.”

Harry nodded. “Break.”

Five minutes later, we were piling blankets and pillows and two yoga mats in the middle of my bedroom floor. Harry was left to figure out how to properly drape the sheets over my desk and the chairs he had pulled in to make a fort and I was left to make the most comfortable bed I could in the middle of the floor.

Two duvets, four fleece blankets, two afghans, and approximately seven pillows later, there was a huge bed that covered the length of my floor in the middle of my room. Rather than deal with artistic draping, Harry had simply duct tapped four sheets together, before tacking the middle of them all up to the ceiling and securing the walls of the fort to my desk and my bed. We weren’t completely covered and the fort wasn’t very attractive (mainly because duct tape) but it looked comfortable enough.

Harry wasn’t paying attention to me as he finished up the walls of the fort, but I had already locked the door and started to take off my clothing. I hadn’t promised fort sex, but seeing him stretch up to reach the ceiling, shirt riding up to reveal the smooth plain of his abdomen, had pretty much tempted me enough that now it was a guaranteed thing to happen.

I turned off the overhead light and Harry turned around, shooting me a questioning look, but then he took in my lack of clothing and the look on his face was replaced by a happy grin.

His hands reached up to take off his shirt, but I crossed to him quickly and beat him to it, sliding my hands underneath the fabric as I raised the t-shirt over his abdomen. I dropped his t-shirt in a pile by my feet and then went for his belt buckle, undoing it and popping the button on his pants.

“No clothing allowed in the fort.” I murmured against his skin, pressing a kiss to his collarbone, before pulling away from him, hooking my thumb around the band of my knickers and pulling them off. I sling-shotted them at Harry, laughing at the dumbfounded look on his face, before unclasping my bra and ducking underneath the sheets.

I wasn’t even properly settled on the blankets when Harry came crawling in behind me, now completely naked. He’d even had the consideration to take off his watch.

“You’re feisty tonight,” he observed as he crawled over to me, covering the distance between our bodies swiftly as he pressed me down to the blankets and covered my body with his.

“I had a good day.” I grinned up at him. Because I had. There was French toast and my parents and my favorite parts of New Haven and Harry. I couldn’t remember the last time I had a day this good. School and work and filming were stressful, and while London was nice, I always felt like I was on the move. This was like a mini vacation, a day full of nothing but my favorite things, and now I just wanted to end it with Harry.

“I did too,” he replied, head dipping down to plant a kiss on my lips.

Kissing Harry was never going to get old. Touching Harry was never going to get old, either. It was easily one of my favorite things to do, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine as we kissed and caressed and touched. He dominated the kiss easily, tongue touching and taking from mine, but I maneuvered around him slowly, pressing up against him and pressing on his shoulders to get him to roll over. He wasn’t getting the message, just shifted closer to me and ran his hand down the inside of my thigh.

“Roll over,” I murmured against his lips. He didn’t do anything for a moment, just kissed me deeper, before he carefully rolled us over so he was on his back and I was straddling him. He kept one hand on my lower waist, anchoring me there, and then the other explored, up, up, until he was cupping my breasts and I was moaning into his mouth.

My hands were everywhere – in his hair on and on his chest and running up his neck as I kissed him. I wanted to explore him. I wanted to navigate my way through every inch of his body, kiss my way along the tattoos on his skin and feel him next to every part of me, so I did. I pressed my lips up and down his body, fingers grasping and groping and kissing and licking and sucking. Harry let out moans and groans and sighs as I touched him, body twitching when I took him in my mouth and his entire abdomen tensing as I finally sank down on him, both of our backs arching and mouths opening in moans.

We moved together slowly at first, languidly, and I don’t know what I was trying to convey to him as I moved but it was everything I felt. Adoration and desire and passion and other things that I hadn’t quite figured out yet.

“Holy hell,” Harry gasped out from underneath me, his eyes closing momentarily before one hand shot up and he pulled me down to him, connecting our mouths in a long, slow kiss, the other hand connecting to my hip as he rolled underneath me.

I felt hot, my entire body flushed, and like I was going to explode from the feel of him; like one second I was going to be on earth and the next I was going to combust into a thousand pieces of stardust. I was gasping into the kiss, murmuring and blabbing incoherently, and then suddenly I was there, exactly where I wanted to be, and I let out a long, low sound against Harry’s mouth and my body stilled and then shook.

Harry groaned out against me as well, hand tightening on my hip as he moved faster, and one moment I wasn’t even sure where I was, my body was in such a feeling of overdrive, and then the next moment Harry was pressing his open mouth to my shoulder in an attempt to keep himself quiet and stilling and groaning and then sighing.

I lost minutes collapsed on top of him, head nuzzled into his neck as I tried to regulate my breathing.

He seemed to be having the same problem, chest rising and falling quickly and heavily.

“Fort frick frack might be my favorite frick frack,” is what I said when I could finally get enough air to breath.

“Agreed.” Harry sounded winded when he spoke. “Agreed.”

He reached a hand up gently, cupping my jaw and guiding my head up so my eyes met his.

“I think,” he breathed out, “that you are my favorite person.”

Something inside of me flipped and fluttered. “You’re mine too.” I told him quietly.

“And I think—“ Maybe it was the orgasm or the lack of oxygen or the atmosphere or I don’t know, but it was something and it compelled me to keep talking and not shut up when I should have, because I wasn’t thinking properly, I know I wasn’t, but I was saying it anyway. “—that you should be my boyfriend.”



www.tumblr.com/tagged/hezra

apparently there are pictures of Ezra and Harry in New Haven today??? Where??? Someone give them to me???

He’s in Connecticut with Ezra Callil for Thanksgiving. If that isn’t proof that they’re dating idk what the fuck to tell you all

Why the fuck is he in CT he needs to go back to London I am so sick of this Hezra bullshit she isn’t even cute

You guys can deny it all you want but he’s staying at her house for Thanksgiving they are dating just give it up already.

I met Ezra Callil and Harry Styles today in New Haven and I ship it so hard!!! They were so cute like she was teasing him and when we took a picture he put his hand on her back and I know people think it’s all for PR or whatever but idk, from what I saw, it’s real. Harry just looked really really happy and they were both so nice and I’m still like freaking out afterwards I was shaking like look at the picture we all took together they both just look really good and happy together