Diana

“That’s not good for you,” Harry comments as he blows onto Diana’s cigarette from her side.

He pulls it out of her mouth without her permission and tosses it onto the sidewalk they’re standing on.

“Becoming even more forward, aren’t you?” she asks back while putting another one between her lips.

Before she can do so, Harry quickly snatches it again from her and throws it away. Diana gives him a side glance, deciding not to take another one from its pack because she knows that she will just end up wasting it if he keeps doing what he’s doing.

They are currently outside a pizzeria, picking up three large boxes of pizza for the gang plus one lasagna bolognaise for Niall. They were initially going to call for delivery that night, but Diana volunteered to collect them from the restaurant instead, thinking that she could catch some fresh air. Her kind of fresh air. Harry insisted to come as well, saying that he could help pay for stuff and carry things, and the guys were definitely behind the idea of having paid-for pizzas, so there wasn’t much that Diana could do against it. She survived the walk here, they both did, but their walk home is going to be a different story.

“Why do you smoke?” Harry triggers.

Diana looks at him in confusion at the odd question, as she leans against the front window glass.

“Why not?” she questions. “Please don’t start lecturing me about the danger of it.”

Harry clears his throat. “It kills?”

“So does drinking.”

“Well, not in the same way. Why do you smoke?” he asks again, “I believe everyone has a reason for an addiction. ”

Instead of answering his question, Diana goes on to light another cigarette, but Harry lets her do it this time and keeps quiet. The fire at the end of the cigarette is the only thing that glows around them, apart of the distant street lights and the dim pizzeria porch light. The wind blows quite heavily, failing Diana’s attempt at making smoke rings.

When about only half of the cigarette remains, Diana finally speaks up, “I’m not alone. I don’t feel alone when I’m smoking. The light, the smoke, and the hiss of the burning paper make a good company.”

Harry pushes himself from leaning against the window and peeks over to see her face. “You’re not alone right now,” he says matter-of-factly.

Diana purses her lips in return. “It kinda helps me think, too.”

Harry tries to look for more answers inside her eyes, but he gets nothing. They both then stare blankly into the street before them, while she takes another inhales from her cigarette.

“What are you thinking about, then?”

“How to ask Jace to go with me to Liam’s on Saturday,” she says bluntly, “and also why are our damn pizzas taking way too long to get done.”

Harry moves completely away from the window and steps forward to be in front of Diana. “You’ve never asked him to go somewhere with you, before?”

“No, I’ve never asked him to go somewhere with me as a date before.”

Harry almost has his mouth wide open, not expecting Diana’s detachment from relationships to reach that extent. “What? That’s mental. He’s been around for what… a few months, now?”

“Two—almost three,” she confirms.

“Yes, and you’ve never asked him to go on a date properly?”

She answers him by shaking her head.

“Has he ever asked you?”

“I think so. Kinda. It’s never been a big deal for either of us,” she easily claims.

“Ever been on a proper dinner?” Harry continues on his unintended interrogation.

Diana doesn’t answer, but instead she turns her head to look over her shoulder, avoiding Harry’s stare.

“You have too much pride, Di,” shoots Harry, “That’s what I think.”

Her eyes go wide as she hits him lightly on his arm, twice. “And you’re fucking nosy. We’re all flawed, Styles.”

That is exactly when a waiter comes out of the door and tells them that their takeout is ready. Diana inhales off her cigarette one last time before she drops it on the sidewalk and puts it out using her foot. She then goes inside to pick them up, with Harry following her closely behind.

Harry then quickly swoops in to take care of the bill, even though Diana is about halfway through counting her own money to pay for what they ordered. Before she had the chance to debate on the matter, he has finished paying and the waiter is already handing the orders over to both of them.

“So then technically, you’re not dating? Not even according to its simplest definition?” he asks again as he switches the plastic bags that they’re holding, so that Diana carries the lighter one.

“I don’t even know,” she says with a shrug on the shoulder. Shortly after they’re settled with what they’re carrying, Harry gives the waiter a relatively huge tip, says thank you, and pushes the front door using his back. As Diana follows and watches him from behind, she wonders why he seems to be so interested in her life; in her relationship with Jace, specifically. She concludes to herself that maybe he’s only making small talks, or maybe he’s just a curious person like that.

“Probably for the best,” he mumbles to himself, but just loud enough for Diana to hear it.

Diana takes a moment to readjust her grip on the bags she’s holding and looks at Harry. “What? Why would you even say that?”

Seeing her stop walking, Harry tugs on her elbow. “Don’t stop moving. The paps are familiar with this neighborhood.”

“No, now you tell me why.”

“Something about him is a bit fishy. Satisfied? Now let’s go.” Diana complies and continues to walk, but no, she isn’t satisfied with his answer.

“Okay, honestly, what is it about him that makes you people so fucking bitter?”

“I simply don’t like him.”

“Neither does Sadie, but that’s just because they’ve never gotten along from the start. But you—you’ve never even spoken to him. You really have no right to say something like that.”

Without a word for an answer, Harry speeds up his walking pace, creating even more distance between Diana and himself.

“Jesus… wait! Slow down, won’t you?” she says, struggling to keep up while clenching the plastic bags tightly in hand, “Hey. Tell me why or I’ll summon hundreds of fourteen year-olds right now to kick your ass for me.”

“First, it doesn’t matter. Second, there’s no way that you can do that,” he replies without looking back, nor changing his pace.

“I’m on Twitter.”

That’s apparently enough to catch Harry’s attention, as he lets out a heavy sigh and pulls her aside to the take cover below the shadows of the buildings near them. “Look, apparently, you’re obviously into this guy, and I don’t wanna mess with that even more than I already have in the past few days. Okay?”

“You won’t. I could give two shits about what you say about him. I just wanna know so I’m not the only one who’s fucking clueless among you people.”

Harry runs his fingers through his hair and bites on his lower lip, the way he always does when he’s feeling uneasy. “Geez, alright. He— I saw him with a— No, umm… okay. Honestly?”

“Honestly,” she nods.

“Let’s just say that I don’t like the way he treats a girl,” he admits.

“What? What are you basing that on?”

“You. I don’t like the way he treats you.”

Why would he care? she thinks. Diana pinches her eyebrows, her face is covered in wonder. Since when did he even start paying attention?

“Oh come on, that’s not even a valid prove. You don’t even know how it’s like between us. You’re straight-up biased,” she denies, probably trying to convince herself more than him with the statement.

A little smile curves on Harry’s face, somewhat in victory. “So were you, when you first met us.”

“That’s irrelevant. Don’t change the subject,” Diana protests.

Her pout makes Harry slightly giggle, but it doesn’t stay long. “Now, just drop it, alright? Think of it as the simple fact that he and I can never be mates,” he says as he turns around to continue being on his way.

Diana shakes her head in disbelief and starts to reach for another stick in her pocket again. She really wants to throw a dis at him, but she honestly can’t think of a word to describe him or his actions; the closest one is ‘unbelievable’, but that’s not an insult so she doesn’t say anything.

The clicks of an electric match being lit catches Harry’s attention and keeps him from walking. He drops the bags that he’s holding yet once again and gives Diana a hard stare. She grunts in return, because she knows that this is the exact reason why she didn’t want him to go with her in the first place. Isn’t the trip home supposed to be just a ten-minute walk? Why does this nutbag have to make it feel like it takes so much longer?

“What’s your problem now? You’re not even the one who smokes.”

“Being a passive smoker is more dangerous than the actual smoking,” he says, while taking her cigarette off her mouth yet again. “Besides, it’s really suffocating on my side.”

“I offered to come here because I wanted to walk and smoke. You’re the one who wanted to come with me. Your loss,” she claims as she sticks her tongue out.

“Okay, let’s consider about the logic here,” Harry speculates while he plays with his hands, “You said that one of the reasons why you do it is because it doesn’t make you feel so alone. You’re not alone right now; you’re with me. Hence, no smoking. Does that make sense?”

“No.” Diana goes on to take another step, but Harry pulls on her arm.

“Let’s make a bet then, shall we?”

She rolls her eyes, but decides to play along anyway. “What bet?”

“I’ll flip a coin. Heads—you stop smoking when I’m near you. Tails—you’re free to keep smoking, I’ll even stop nagging on you.”

Diana takes a moment to deliberate the pros and cons. On one side, if she agrees to the bet and loses, she knows that she needs to stand by her words and stop smoking. On the other side, she realises that she only needs to do so when he’s nearby. If he’s not around, win or lose, she can still do whatever she wants.

“Fine. Whatever it takes to shut you up.”

Harry grins in satisfaction and pulls a penny out of his pocket. He throws it in the air and captures it with his left hand, his right hand covering the surface on top. Before he opens his hand, he smirks and makes one last comment, “You promise you’ll honor the bet?”

Diana nods in annoyance, “Yes, yes. It’s from a bloody coin flip, for god’s sake.”

As he removes his hand away from his left palm and reveals the outcome, his grin grows even wider.

Heads.

“Perfect. Now as long as I’m around, no matter how long or how often or if it’s with the other lads, you’re not allowed to smoke. Yes?” he says as he reaches his hand out, signalling her to give him her cigarette pack, “Because you’re not alone.”

“Technically,” he adds quickly.

She grunts and mumbles a soft ‘fuck’, but hands it to him anyway. “Why are you constantly giving me more reasons to hate you?”

“You don’t hate me,” he says with another subtle beam.

The comment makes Diana scoff, while Harry is already back on skipping his way home ahead of her. She doesn’t realise it, nor feel it, but apparently Harry’s smile is reflected on her face. As much as she hates to admit it, Harry is right. Diana doesn’t hate him.