Perfect Teeth

“Hello again, my little peaches. In place of our normally scheduled Sunday vlog video (that’ll be up tomorrow, just in case you were concerned) I thought it was about time we have another little chat about some things. Or I’ll chat about some questions that I’ve been getting, because man oh man, have I been getting questions. Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, YouTube, carrier-pigeon – they’re coming in from everywhere, in larger quantities than ever before. All of these lovely questions seem to have a reoccurring theme, however, so here it is: Ezra Answers #23: HARRY STYLES EDITION.

Probably the most asked question I’ve gotten in the history of ever is, are you dating Harry Styles? This is usually accompanied by like eighteen question marks and some emojis, really showing me how you guys feel. I think that it’s time that I really address the issue at hand. I’ve been preparing for this moment for a long time coming and I really feel that now honesty is the best policy. It’s been absolutely awful keeping a secret from you guys, so…here it is. The truth. You guys want to know – am I dating Harry Styles?

Yes. Yes I am. We’ve been happily dating for the past thirteen years. We’ve had to keep it on the DL, with my super stardom and all, because I really didn’t want to overshadow his career while he was on the X Factor, but we feel like he’s finally on my level, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem. It’s perfect, he’s perfect, we already have three pugs and a house in the South of France.

But oh my God, NO! If you didn’t catch the heavily laced sarcasm in that, I’m not dating Harry Styles. I’ve spent like, 25 minutes in the man’s presence. I know that seems like really stable relationship ground for some of you, but I like to know a man at least half an hour before I commit to him. I will repeat: I am not dating Harry Styles. I mean, I’m pretty flattered that you guys think I have the ability to tap that, but let’s be real.

Second most asked slash commented thing I’ve gotten on similar grounds is, so much sexual tension between Harry and Ezra in that livestream I ship it HEZRA FOREVER or something else related to ‘sexual tension’. First off, can we please talk about the ship name Hezra? While I feel that Harry is deeply under appreciated in the making of this name – he only gets an ‘H’, I mean really -- I do dig it. It’s quite catchy. It can continue being a thing – not that what I say matters, but whatevs. As for the sexual tension – my ripe little peaches, let me tell you something. There was no sexual tension. I was there. I think I would know. Harry’s a very sweet guy with a very charming personality and I mean, who wouldn’t want to get sucked into a vortex of that? But our livestream was nothing but professional.

Those are the two most frequently asked/commented things, but we’re going to quickly go through some others.

Can you give me/us/the world Harry Styles’ number? No. Mainly because I don’t have it and also breech of privacy much?

How was meeting One Direction/Harry/Liam/Zayn/Louis/Niall? They were all very sweet and professional, especially for nine in the morning. 10/10, would recommend.

Are you creating tension between Larry? Dude I don’t even know how to answer this one except, refer to question number one.

Do you know Liam Payne followed you on Twitter? Yes, I do. I may or may not have screamed very loudly. While on the Tube. Sitting next to an older British man. I tried to explain my excitement to him, but he really didn’t get why I was so jazzed that a boy followed me online. He actually seemed kind of concerned for my safety.

Do you want to kiss/hug/have sex/date/marry Harry? Do I want to? I mean, let’s be real, who doesn’t, at least a little bit? There’s probably a gene that makes it physically impossible to not be attracted to Harry Styles that blooms when one hits puberty. However, this is probably just a transparent way of asking me the next question, which is,

Do you fancy/like/have a crush on Harry Styles? I’m really sorry to disappoint you, Hezra shippers, but I don’t. That is one ship that just isn’t going to sail. He’s a super sweet, super swell guy, but not even Harry Styles can replace Andrew Garfield as my ultimate crush. Sorry, Styles.

I’ve officially been rambling for over five minutes about my non-relationship with Harry Styles, but I figured it was easier to address this now than sludge through the @ replies on Twitter. Thank you for the concern, thank you for the ship name, and thank you for watching, my sparkly little peaches and plums. My weekly vlog video will be up on Monday, so watch out for that. And also, if you’ve gotten all the way through this video and are still wondering why the hell people are suddenly thinking I’m dating and/or romantically interested in Harry Styles, the livestream video that sparked all the controversy is linked below. Watch it not for the supposed sexual tension, but for my awful Toy Story reference to Liam Payne. That’s all for today, folks. Love you all to pieces. Goodbyyeee.”



Tardiness is not within my personality description. In fact, my usual punctuality is a point of pride, because I’m a firm believer that being on time means respect and I was raised to be as respectful as possible. I’ve always arrived to class at least ten minutes early and gotten to movies when the lights were still up and the silly trivia playing. There is a type of control in being early, in being able to feel out the situation and pick the best seat in the theatre.

Moving to London flipped a lot of things around in my life, one of them apparently being my knack for punctuality. In the three weeks since my arrival, I had been late to a very important interview, my mid-morning film theory class, and a meeting I had about future filmings with Daily Mix. I was trying desperately to navigate my way around the city, but public transportation wasn’t something I was used to and even after three weeks I was missing connections and getting all turned around.

I made an effort to get up extra early that Monday morning, because I had to be at the BBC Radio One studio by half past twelve. I was determined not to be late. I showered, dressed, and was out the door at 11:05, figuring that I would have plenty of time to walk to the Tube station, make my way across town, and even treat myself to a garlic bagel and some coffee before I had to be in.

It was now nearing 12:20 and though I had procured the garlic bagel, I hadn’t had time to eat it. I’d taken the wrong train and ended up in Piccadilly Circus, before rerouting back and finally making it to the Radio One offices. I was breathing heavily and sweating underneath my layers. As I waited for the lift, I peeled off my jacket and slung it over my arm, before finally peering into the paper bag from the bakery and pulling out the parchment-paper wrapped treat.

I wasn’t late, not yet, but I was cutting it close. When the lift doors opened, I pressed the button for my floor and took a large bite out of my bagel. I was working on quickly chewing and swallowing when a hand stuck out between the closing doors. They bounced back open and Harry Styles made his way into the lift just as I was licking cream cheese off of my fingers. His eyes flickered from my fingers, which were still dangerously close to my mouth, to the rest of his face.

“Oh, Ezra, hi.” He greeted, flashing me a smile as the elevator doors closed behind him.

I opened my mouth to reply, momentarily forgetting about the chewing that I was supposed to be focusing on, and promptly choked as a piece of bagel lodged in my throat. Harry’s eyes widened as I started sputtering. He moved quickly, his hand sliding along my back as I began to cough.

“Are you choking? Are you okay?” Harry looked at me frantically, hand still beating gentle taps against my back.

I only managed out a nod. Tears pooled in my eyes from the exertion and my chest hurt from the coughs, but a few moments later the bagel successfully dislodged from my throat.

“Here,” Harry uncapped the lid of the water bottle in his hand and gave it to me. I attempted to look grateful as I took large gulps of water, cringing as I felt the bagel scrape its way down my esophagus. I handed Harry his water bottle back and wiped at my eyes.

“Sorry.” I rasped out.

“Are you alright?” Harry moved his hand from my back, shoving it into the pocket of his jeans.

I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Sorry. Piece of bagel got stuck in my throat.”

“Don’t apologize to me.” He protested with a wave of his hand. “I wasn’t the one potentially choking on a baked good.”

“Boiled.” I said, the word slipping out before I could think to say anything else.

“What?” Harry now had his hands to himself, but he hadn’t moved to take a step back, his body still cornered towards mine. I hadn’t seen him in almost a week, but he looked pretty much the same. Same tight pants, same scuffed boots, same stretched out t-shirt, though this time it was underneath a jacket. His hair was once again defying gravity and his mouth was stretched in a familiar smile.

“Bagels aren’t baked, they’re boiled.” It wasn’t the most pertinent of facts and it only loosely applied to our conversation, but it was apparently the first thing I thought of.

Harry only smiled wider. “You would think I would know that, considering I did spend a few of my teenage years working at a bakery, but I didn’t.”

“I watch too many episodes of Unwrapped on Food Network.” I shrugged, trying to calm my racing heart. From the near-death experience or the proximity of Harry, I wasn’t sure, but I could feel it thundering away in my chest. “I can also tell you how animal crackers are formed and orange juice concentrate made.”

“You’re just full of scintillating facts, aren’t you?” Harry teased, just as the elevator pinged and the doors slowly opened.

“I like to think of them as potential conversation starters.” I stepped out of the elevator, sending Harry a surprised glance as he followed me. I’d been too preoccupied with the potential death by bagel to actually stop and wonder why I was suddenly faced with Harry Styles twice in one week, a few days after I posted an entire video debunking our couple rumors. I could now say that I’d spent at least a half hour in the man’s presence, if nothing else.

“Lovely chatting with you, Mr. Styles, but I’m almost officially late to my meeting.” I sent Harry a grin and nod, stepping towards the reception desk in the middle of the floor.

“Lovely chatting with you as well, Ezra.” He grinned. “Please don’t choke on any boiled goods in the mean time.”

“Can’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

Harry left me at the reception desk, one last nod before he made his way down the hallway. I was still staring at his retreating figure when the receptionist at the desk cleared her throat.

“I’m supposed to be meeting Scott Mills?”

“Ezra Callil?”

I nodded.

“Down the hall and to your left. You’ll see him through the glass.”


I’d been invited to Scott Mills for an interview. They called a few weeks ago and set up the appointment, before all the hoopla with One Direction happened, and I happily accepted. I’d done one radio interview before, for Wesleyan last year, all about my YouTube channel and my “up and coming success”, but there was a difference in being interviewed by my friend Greg and by being interviewed by Scott Mills and Chris Stark for BBC Radio One.

My stomach was doing flips as I walked into the room, but I had enough professionalism and faith in my performance that I wiped my sweaty hands on the thigh of my jeans and plastered on a smile.

Things started off pretty smoothly. Apparently I was a part of a segment on unique jobs and my “online personality” was considered a part of that. I was asked about my move to London, how I came into YouTube, and to describe my typical work day. It was pretty straightforward and simple as interviews went.

“Alright, now onto some more fun questions,” Scott started after the next song finished up. I was sitting directly across from him, with Chris Stark sitting next to me, a shared microphone between us. There was a camera pointed in my direction, but I wasn’t entirely sure if it was turned on or not.

“We’ve gotten a few suggestions from Twitter. We’ll do some quick fire questions. Celebrity crush?”

“Andrew Garfield. But he’s just one half of my favorite celebrity couple.”

“Can you play any musical instruments?”

“Not a one.”

“What’s something surprising that you get asked a lot?”

“Fashion advice. I don’t get it. I basically just wear the same two pairs of pants over and over again.”

“Favorite movie?”

“Cannot answer. Pass.”

“Favorite boyband?”

“One Direction, obviously.”

“Worst thing about London?”

“The public transport is a nightmare to navigate.”

“Shag, marry, kill, One Direction edition?”

I paused, running my lip between my teeth in contemplation. “Shag Niall, marry Liam, kill Harry.” I finally answered, giving a definitive nod.

Scott’s eyebrows shot up. “Kill Harry?” He repeated incredulously. “I don’t think anyone’s ever killed Harry.”

I shrugged. “He was the only one left.”

“We need justification for these answers.” Chris demanded, leaning into the microphone. “I need some reasoning behind why someone would kill Harry Styles.”

“So you’d shag Niall because…?” Scott prompted.

I rolled my eyes. “Who wouldn’t shag Niall?” I asked. “Have you seen those biceps? Ask me a week ago and I might have had a different answer, but my friend ZZ has been on a Niall trip for the past week and I’m pretty convinced he’s the most attractive one of them all.”

“So shag Niall because of his biceps and marry Liam because…?”

“He follows me on Twitter.” I laughed. “Obviously we already have a connection. And he just seems like a genuine sweetheart.”

“And that leaves Harry to be killed?” Chris asked. “What about Zayn and Louis?”

“They both have girlfriends. I wouldn’t want to put them through the grief. Harry’s single and he’s left, so he’d have to go.”

“Real solid reasoning you have there.” Chris commented, but he seemed genuinely impressed.

I smiled. “Why thank you. I thought it was spot on.”

“Speaking of Harry Styles—“ Scott started and I groaned.

“Seriously?” I asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow. “You’re going to have an entire fandom after me if you keep it up with these questions. When I get assassinated by a twelve year old, I hope you feel guilty.”

“So you don’t want me to ask you about the alleged relationship between you and one Mr. Styles?”

“There is no alleged relationship. He’s nice. Funny. Got a nice head of hair. But we’re not in a relationship.”

“Which is why you would kill him off in a game of shag, marry, kill.” Chris piped up.

“Yes, absolutely.” I agreed dryly. “I can guiltlessly kill Harry Styles because there’s nothing romantic going on between us. Though with how much I’ve talked about him this week, he probably thinks I’m obsessed with him.”

“Who isn’t obsessed with him in this world?” Chris asked, rolling his eyes conspiratorially in my direction.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Scott laughed. “No more One Direction talk for us. Well folks, that’s all the time we have with the lovely Ezra Callil for today. You can check her out on youtube.com/ezra or on Twitter. We might be able to guilt trip her into a game, but I’ll work on that while you enjoy the newest musical stylings of Beyonce.”

Scott moved one of the headphones away from his ear as he transitioned into the next song. I took my headphones off completely, fluffing out my hair from where it was flat against my ears.

“Would you be willing to stick around and play a game of Innuendo Bingo?” Scott asked, leaning forward across the table.

Instantly, my eyebrows shot up. “Really? Right now?” I asked. “I haven’t brought a change of clothes.”

“It’s a bit last minute,” he admitted. “But we’ve gotten some requests, so I figured I would ask. It’ll be a riot.”

I glanced over at the clock hanging on the wall. It was barely one thirty and I didn’t have anywhere to be until four, when I was supposed to do some promotional filming for Tongue in Cheek. I’d been planning to do some editing at the Starbucks down the road in between, but it wouldn’t kill me to stay up a little later tonight and finish my work then.

“Sure.” I agreed with a nod. “Who am I to deny the people what they want?”

Instantly, Chris was up in a flash, grabbing a tarp from one of the desk drawers and laying it down on the floor, before rearranging two plastic chairs and a trash can in between. All within the three minutes of the next song, water was fetched, plastic cups found, and Innuendo Bingo ready to be played. The camera in the corner was turned on and faced towards the door and another microphone was positioned between the two chairs.

I shrugged off my sweater, leaving on just my denim button up, and figured that if I ended up completely drenched, I could slink around London in a wet bra and semi-dry sweater. I’d never actively played Innuendo Bingo, but I’d been present during a game between two of my other YouTube friends and I’d watched more videos than I could count. They were always funny, but I was never extremely interested in playing. First there was the getting wet, which made me uncomfortable. Then there was the germ aspect of someone else’s bacteria-filled water all over my person. I would rather eat an entire jar of mayonnaise or attempt to swallow some cinnamon, because at least those were relatively germ free.

“Am I up against Chris, then?” I asked Scott, who was lining up the next track.

“I think we’re going to pull in someone else.” He answered cryptically, just as the song ended and he jumped back on the air.

“Welcome back, everyone. I’ve managed to convince Ezra to stay for a game or two, and what better game to play on this wonderful Monday morning than Innuendo Bingo. It’s a bit impromptu, we know, but if you’d like to tune in and watch, we’re already streaming online. We’re going to do something a little different today and bring in another guest to play Ezra.”

“The identity of whom you have not revealed.” I spoke into the microphone. “Which is kind of making me nervous.”

“Who would you absolutely not want to walk through that door?” Chris asked, standing across from me.

“Beyonce?” I guessed. “The Queen? Someone who I would feel really bad about spitting water at?”

“It’s actually someone we’ve discussed today.” Scott prompted, sending a smile over my way.

I leaned forward in excitement. “Oh my god is it Andrew Garfield? Because if it is I will absolutely burst into flames right now. Please tell me it’s Andrew Garfield.”

Of course, it wasn’t Andrew Garfield. I knew it wasn’t going to be Andrew Garfield the second Scott mentioned a special guest, because I was acutely aware that there was someone also in the Radio 1 building who had been a topic of discussion.

My attempts at mockery were cut sort when the door next to me opened and Nick Grimshaw poked his head inside. “I’ve a delivery of one Harry Styles.” He announced, sliding in the room with a grinning Harry behind him.

“Oh, Harry, what a surprise!” Scott laughed, his acting skills really not up to par, before gesturing for Harry to sit down. “It seems that today we’re going to have a special game of Innuendo Bingo between Ezra and Harry.”

“Shall we call it—,” Grimmy interrupted, leaning forward to speak into the microphone. “— Innuendo Bingo, Hezra edition?” He accompanied the statement with ever-appropriate eyebrow leers.

“Holy hell.” I cursed, bringing both of my hands up to cover my face in exasperation. “I’m never going to make it to twenty.”

Harry somehow managed to find a look halfway between cheeky and sheepish, shooting me a very charming grin before shrugging off his jacket and taking the seat across from me. “’Lo again, Ezra. Heard you tried to kill me off a few minutes ago.”

“Hi.” I greeted dryly. “Don’t take my decision to kill you personally.”

“I would never.”

I turned to Scott, shooting him a very bored look, and settled back into my seat. Grimmy was standing in the corner by the door, with Chris standing directly behind Harry, two plastic cups full of water in his hands.

“Log onto the BBC Radio 1 website to watch this came of Innuendo Bingo unfold between Ezra Callil and Harry Styles. It’s bound to be a good one. Now the rules are simple.” Scott instructed. “Both of you will fill your cheeks with water and then we’ll play a few clips that, taken out of context, might sound a little rude. The goal is to keep the water in your mouth and not spit it out on the person across from you, so basically don’t laugh. You can’t use your hands to hold in the water, either. Understood?”

“Sorted, mate.” Harry agreed, before taking the little plastic cup from Chris.

I only nodded, before taking the other cup of water. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks to a request fulfilled by some lovely viewers earlier this week, we have some clips from YouTube videos mixed in with our usual television innuendo.” Scott informed. “So we’ll start with those.”

“Impromptu game my ass.” I muttered, but the dark look I shot Scott was teasing. I couldn’t exactly be mad, could I? So I had to spit some water at Harry when something funny came along. There were certainly worse situations to be in. This would do absolutely nothing to placate the Hezra rumors, but it took too much energy to try and control what went on in the Internet in the first place.

“Ready?” Scott asked.

Harry and I both nodded, before locking eyes over our cups.

“Fill your cheeks with water then.” Chris directed.

I took a gulp of water from my cup, watching Harry do the same. Holding the water in my mouth was actually harder than I had anticipated, because I immediately wanted to swallow it or spit it out. There was also the fact that I probably looked like a chipmunk in front of Harry Styles, though I couldn’t say that he looked much better. The second we made eye contact he screwed up his face, crossing his eyes and flaring his nostrils. My first instinct was to laugh, but I just jerked forward as I tried to keep the water in my mouth. I narrowed my eyes at his foul play.

Scott pressed his finger down to play the first clip. “Oh, I have to squeeze it…I thought I’d just have to twist it, but it’s going in…” a voice that sounded suspiciously like my own played in the room.

It took Harry halfway through the clip before he jumped into action, his entire body shaking as the water previously in his mouth suddenly sprayed all over me. Instantly, I started laughing, trying desperately to keep my mouth closed and failing miserably, hitting Harry with the same amount of water he’d soaked me with. His body was shaking, hands brought together in a raucous clap as he laughed. Water dripped off of my forehead and was soaking my hair, the collar of my shirt suddenly drenched. Harry wasn’t fairing much better, the white t-shirt he was wearing already sticking to his skin.

Grimmy was practically dying in the corner, curved against the wall as he laughed, and Scott was grinning madly.

I brought a hand up to wipe the water away from my eyes as Harry moved his hair away from his face.

“That was so much harder than I thought it was going to be.” Harry admitted with a laugh, reaching for the cup again.

“I think I’m going to need a shower after this.” I muttered, grabbing my cup as well.

“You mean you don’t want my saliva all over your body?” Harry grinned cheekily, quirking an eyebrow.

I’d taken that moment to take in another gulp of water, but the second the words were out of his mouth, I was spitting the water back out. My tongue was pressed to my teeth as I tried to keep the water inside, but all I managed to do was spit the water in a direct stream from the gap between my two front teeth to Harry’s face.

“Did you really just do that?” Harry gasped through his laughter and instantly my hand went up to cover my mouth, the gap between my teeth never feeling so apparent until after I’d inadvertently used it to peg Harry Styles in the face with some water. I flushed, clamping my mouth shut.

“It was brilliant!” He cried, before dissolving into another fit of laughter. “Talk about distance! Do it again!”

The Harry Styles at the interview was introspective and polite, the Harry Styles in the elevator concerned and funny, and the Harry Styles in front of me, face dripping with water, was boyish and carefree. His entire face lit up with his laughter, hands clapping together in delight during the next few rounds of Innuendo Bingo.

He couldn’t even make it fully through a clip of, “My lips feel all tingly and warm—” and both of us lost it during, “Yeah, right there, right there. No, a little to the left, no, down, around the other way, through that hole.”

Twelve minutes later Harry and I were both completely soaked. His hair was sticking to his forehead, his t-shirt almost completely transparent, and his cheeks were flushed with laughter. My sides hurt from laughing so hard and gasping for air, my bra was beginning to get damp underneath my shirt, and I was almost positive that whatever traces of make up might have previously been on my face were successfully gone now. He kept trying to coax me into shooting more water streams between my teeth, but I couldn’t stay serious long enough to concentrate. Scott wrapped up the last bits of Innuendo Bingo and the cameras were shut off just as Chris handed both Harry and I a towel.

Grimmy was still standing in the corner, grinning as Harry swiped the towel across his hair. I patted my face dry and breathed heavily, feeling like I’d just run a marathon or climbed up a few flights of stairs. There had been a point where both Harry and I were laughing so hard that no sound came out of either of our mouths, bodies shaking as I covered my mouth and Harry slapped his hands against the thighs of his jeans.

I sighed into the towel as Scott put the next few songs on and turned to me. “That was exciting.” He declared with a grin. “And it’ll probably be the most watched video on our site within the next two days.”

“How many people were watching live?” Chris was tossing the plastic cups Harry and I had used in the recycling bin and pressing towels down onto the floor with his foot.

“Something like over twenty thousand.” Scott read from the screen.

“Best entertainment I’ve seen in weeks.” Grimmy commented, walking over to stand between Harry and I. “Even if Harold does look like a drowned rat.”

“He really isn’t all that attractive with his hair flat.” I agreed, wiping the last bits of water from my face and smoothing my hair down. “The voluminous curls are what keep the ladies.”

“So you admit to finding me attractive?” Harry sassed right back, before he suddenly chucked the towel on the table and started pulling his shirt over his body. “And yet you’re still willing to shag Niall over me? I’m offended, Ezra, really, heart broken.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Scott protested, just as Grimmy let out a screeching laugh and I pointedly looked away from Harry’s bare chest. “Keep your clothing on!”

“My shirt’s wet!” Harry defended. “It’s uncomfortable!” He threw the wet t-shirt over the back of the plastic chair, before reaching for a white The Breakfast Show t-shirt next to his jacket and shrugging it on quickly. “I was cold!”

“Yes, we know.” Grimmy deadpanned. “All four of your nipples were informing us so.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking my head as I scooped my hair up into a pony tail at the back of my neck. I gathered my sweater and bag from their pile in the corner and folded up the plastic chair I’d been sitting in.

“Sorry for trying to get comfortable.” Harry muttered, but he didn’t look particularly put out as he eyed my warily. “Where are you going? We haven’t finished our discussion.”

“Um, to go change?” I questioned. “Do I need to get written permission first? And what discussion?”

“On why you’d rather shag Niall over me.” He informed me, sending a playful smile my way. “We can continue it when we go to lunch.”

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, confused. “Pardon me?” I asked. “Who’s doing what?”

“Lunch.” Harry repeated as he pulled on his coat. “The meal between breakfast and dinner. We’re going to go get some.”

“Oh are we? And when was this decided?”

“About ten minutes ago, when my stomach growled. And I just spent the last ten minutes getting sprayed in the face with your backwash. The least you could do is buy me a sandwich.”

“Oi!” I protested, already moving towards the door. “I’m not exactly dry over here either. You were spitting like a rabid dog.”

“Then I’ll buy you a sandwich as well.” He compromised. “And I’ll even throw in a cup of soup.”

“Thanks, but no thanks, Styles.” I declared, before maneuvering around Scott’s desk to shake his hand before he had to go back on the air. I said goodbye to Chris as well, before following Harry and Grimmy into the hallway. Both of them took a left outside of the door, while I went to the right, where the illuminated bathroom sign was.

“Are you seriously not coming to lunch with us?” Harry asked, pausing in the middle of the hallway. Grimmy rolled his eyes and laughed, but continued walking.

I paused in front of the bathroom door, one hand already on the handle. “Nope.” I answered, popping the ‘p’. “Things to do, other people to see.”

“All right then.” Harry shrugged his shoulders, but he was still smirking at me. “But you’re missing out on a really great sandwich.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to survive.”

He laughed, before turning around and continuing to walk down the hallway. “I’d been hoping discuss the names of our pugs and where exactly our home was located in the south of France, but I guess we’ll save that conversation for another time.”

I was glad that he was turned away from me, my face flushing with recognition as I realized he’d watched my video. Lots of people had watched my video - it was currently the first video that popped up when you typed ‘Harry Styles’ into YouTube, but there was still something mildly embarrassing knowing that Harry had watched all five minutes of me denying a relationship. I tried to ignore that as I chewed my lip and watched him, a part of me desperately wanting to call out and tell him that oh wait, sorry, I’ve changed my mind. Of course I’ll go to lunch with you. It probably wasn’t a very good idea and I would undoubtedly get photographed out having lunch with Harry and Grimmy, but a part of me still wanted to go. I watched Harry saunter away, eyes focused mostly on his back (and a little bit on his ass).

“Harry!” I finally called out when he reached the end of the hallway, stopped in front of the elevator.

He turned to look at me, eye brows raised and dimples in full effect. “Yes?”

“Pro tip?” I offered. “Next time you want someone to go to lunch with you, ask them instead of tell them. You're much too sweet not to.”

I ducked into the restroom before he could respond.