Flight A2783

"Sorry for grabbing your hand," I mumble awkwardly as soon as the plane flies more smoothly. Honestly I'm not sorry but I can't tell him that. I mean I could, but it'd be awkward.

Harry shrugs as I free my hand from his. I really really want to grab his hand again. I try not to think about the feeling of warmth that had washed through me earlier as my hand, so much smaller than his, was held by him. "It was nice." I flush and Harry grins. "For a about five minutes it was almost as if you didn't hate me."

"I don't hate you," I say stiffly. "Hate is a strong word." I clear my throat. "Even though I do use it often," I add. Harry continues to smile as he listens. "I just don't understand you."

Harry clasps his hands behind his head and reclines his seat slightly. "What's there not to understand?"

I purse my lips. "Well, for one, I don't understand why you actually answered my question when I asked if you're dating Kendall Jenner," I say quietly. "You could've bullshitted me."

"Bullshitted?" Harry repeats, grinning. I ignore this. Not a word, I know but I often struggle to find words that's express how I feel. I don't know if you can tell.

"You could've refused to answer and I probably would've dropped it. But you answered me, and it was an honest answer too. Why?" I barrel on.

The smile on Harry's face disappears and I desperately want to make it come back, but I don't know how. Harry looks into my eyes with his own haunting emerald ones and I almost falter. I almost want to take my question back. Almost. But I really do want to know. Why would you reveal a secret like that, one that is publicly believed otherwise, to a complete stranger who could potentially reveal this and ruin your life? I wouldn't do this of course because that's fucking low and I don't need to do that shit. But still. I personally would never tell. Ever.

Harry sighs heavily. "I don't know. I'm always being watched by my managers. Always in the public eye, where there's no room for me to do what I want most of the time because I have to keep up a good image. No freedom, and I can't speak my mind," he says quietly. "It's always 'You can't say this' or 'You have to say that' or 'Don't do this' or 'Do that because it'll make you look good'. It's never about what I want. Always about others, and maybe I sound selfish for admitting the I, as a human, would sometimes like things to be about me and what I want, but I'd be lying if I said otherwise." Harry lets out a breath and runs a hand over his face before looking me in the eye again. This always catches me off guard. Always. "Me telling you the truth was my one moment of freedom. My one moment of it being about me."

I'm at lost for words for a moment and Harry smiles a little. "You understand now?"

"That was literally the deepest shit I have ever heard in my life," I blurt, then immediately want to take it back because of how blunt and random that sounds. Harry laughs softly.

"Well I'm glad you think so," he replies, replacing his hands behind his head. "And I have a little hard time understanding you too."

"Really," I say casually. I know where he's headed, but I'll allow it because he just bared his soul to me. And now I'll have to bare mine, even though I don't have a soul. I have a black hole. Everything just gets sucked in and is never seen again.

Just kidding.

"Yeah," he replies quietly. "You didn't need to tell me..." Harry trails off. "...about that," he finishes.

"Yeah," I agree. "But I was drunk," I point out. "I was under the influence of alcohol." I wince. That's sounds so incredibly lame.

"Yeah, I think that was implied when you said you were drunk," Harry says teasingly. "But you weren't that drunk; you could have stopped yourself, but you told me anyway."

I shrug. "Same as you I guess." I bite my lip. "Being raped is a shameful thing to me. It's not something you tell people openly, you know? I can't be all like, 'hey my name's Brandy and did I mention that I was raped?'. I kind of used my supposed drunkenness as my excuse to tell someone." I shift my gaze down to my hands, which are folded in my lap, then back up at Harry. "That someone being you." I smile wryly. "It's insane, I know. Wanting to tell someone. But only two people know. My mom and Lulu."

"Lulu?" Harry asks, confused.

"She's my best friend," I clarify. "Forgot to mention that."

"I'm not your best friend?" Harry asks, pouting.

I give him a flat look. "I've known you for like three hours."

"Yeah, but in those three hours we've bared our souls to each other, seen each other drunk, and held hands. I'm pretty sure we should be best friends now," Harry says matter of factly.

I flush. "Not willingly," I mutter.

Harry's eyes widen. "You do hate me."

"I do not," I protest. "I neither like nor dislike you." That's the biggest bag of bullshit I've probably said so far.

I've bullshitted him.

Harry grins. "You love me." I open my mouth to disagree. "You loooooove me so hard."

"No," I say flatly. "I don't."

"You looooooooove me."

"Shut up," I mutter. "I do not."

"It's okay if you don't say it outright," Harry says cheerfully. "I know you do, and that's all that matters."

I just shake my head and look away, but I'm smiling. "You're an annoying little shit, you know that?"

"An annoying little shit that you loooove."

"God, just drop it, will you?" I bluster, "I do not-" I break off because Harry's face is right there. "-love you," I finish awkwardly, shifting my gaze anywhere but Harry, whose face is about .47389403 millimeters from mine.

My gaze flicks back from his eyes, to his lips to his-

Shit. Shouldn't have glanced at his lips. Everyone knows that's that's the fucking universal signal that a girl wants you to kiss them. Which I do. But I barely know him. Fuck fuckity fuck.

HOLY SHIT HIS FACE IS GETTING CLOSER I CAN'T KISS A GUY WHO'S LIKE A FUCKING GOD JESUS OH MY GOD-

"You have something on your face," Harry murmurs, peering at the edge of my jaw.

"Oh," I say awkwardly. "Birthmark." So. He wasn't going to kiss me at all. Whoops. He moves away. Noooo come baack.

"Cool." Harry grins. "I have this huge one on my left bum cheek."

I cock an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"No," Harry says. I flush. "But I have four nipples."

I snort. "So you're telling me that the same angels who were carving your face fucked up on the nipple aspect of your body?"

"Apparently," Harry replies cheerfully. "Which means if you wanted to give me a proper titty-twist you wouldn't be able to unless you had four hands."

"You seem proud of that particular fact," I remark, trying not to smile at the way he says 'titty'. It sounds more like tit-y. So adorable.

"Quite." Harry sends me a mischievous grin. "Do you have a particular deformity? Breast deformity for example?"

"Oh yeah," I say sarcastically. "My right boob is a C cup but my left is an A." Harry's eyes flick from one of my boobs to the other. "Smooth, Styles," I say dryly. "Real subtle."

"They don't look uneven," Harry says awkwardly.

I give him a flat look. "Because they aren't." Harry reddens. "I was joking."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." I just shake my head at him. "I don't think best friends look at each other's boobs."

"I don't have boobs," Harry points out. "You and Lulu,"-he says her name as if in quotes-"don't look at each others boobs?"

"No, Harry. We don't," I say flatly. "We do not look at each other's boobs, nor do we ever have sex, contrary to popular male belief."

So fucking sexist.

Why do 97.9774848593866% of the male population think that we girl-best friends are up to kinky shit with each other? Like what the fuck led you to believe this shit, you wankers? Sure, we talk about our feelings and check each other's butts when it's that time of month because that's obligatory. No one wants a bloody-ass stain in the middle of their ass. It's part of the Hoe-Code.

Yeah. That's right. Guys have a Bro-Code, we girls have a Hoe-Code. Examples include informing each other if there's something in our teeth, if there's something sticking out of our noses, if Niagra Falls wasn't properly absorbed into our maxi-pads or heavy-flow tampons. It's something you just have to do.

Just because you see two girls on some cheap-ass porn DVD have sex together, doesn't mean that the rest of the female species does it okay? Those girls are paid to do that shit. If that's what it takes to pay the bills then whatever. Whatever floats your boat. Tickles your pickle. Fancies your Nancy. I don't know.

But not all girls have sex together, okay? Okay.

Harry grins. "I never thought you did. But now I do."

"I just said that we don't!"

"Yeah, but you brought it up, which means it might have crossed your mind at one point."

That little fucker.

"You little shit," I hiss, punching his arm. He winces. "We do not have sex."

"Okaayy," he sings, sounding unconvinced.

"I hate you."

"Knew it!" He cries, poking me in the stomach with his finger. "You hate me."

"You were so adamant five seconds ago to claim otherwise," I say flatly. "I thought I 'loooooove you'."

"Well evidently I was..." Harry pauses, making a face associated with tasting something bitter. "...wrong."

"That's right," I say smugly. "You. Are. Wrong." I snicker. "WRONG. W-R-O-N-G."

Harry just looks at me. "So you're one of those."

"One of those what? What is that supposed to mean?" I demand, glaring at him.

"So demanding," Harry remarks. "Are you like this in-?"

"Don't even say it," I growl. I ignore the falter in my heart beat. I haven't had

Forget it. Moving on.

"One of those people who like to rub things in people's faces when they're wrong."

I shrug. "Maybe." I shoot him a look. "And you're one of those who get offended by that so I'll continue to do it."

"You're such a bitch."

"Thanks," I say flatly. "It is my sole purpose in life to be a bitch." I pause. "A bad bitch."

"Sorry, but the only bad bitch I know is Rihanna," Harry says in the same tone. "Nice try."

"You know what?" I glare at Harry. "I take back my earlier statement about your face being carved by angels." Harry looks at me, waiting. He seems to sense that I'm going to continue speaking. Smart boy. "Satan carved it."

A grin nudges it's way to Harry's face. "Oh, so my devilish good looks are affecting you now?"

Shit. Should've chosen something else. Like a cyclops. Or a minotaur or something. Something fugly. Shit. Fuck. Ugh.

The awkward moment when you think of a better comeback after you've already said your lame-ass one. Fuck.

But I guess his devilish good looks affect my nether regions. I told you before. God.

Wow. In the last ten seconds I've used fuck, God, Satan, and angels. Oops.

Watch out guys. I'm gonna get possessed by a fucking demon. And then I'll have to get some random priest guy to do an exorcism on me and be all like,"The Lord commends you!"

But imagine me as Jonah Hill and the priest guy being that other dude what's his name? Lols.

"Whatever," I mumble. I lost. Boohoo. Everything is a big competition apparently.

Harry smirks. "Ooh, what's that? Oh right." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I won."

"Shut up, you little dick." Man, wrong context. Oh lordy baby jesus. Here it comes. I need to prepare myself.

"My dick is not little, let me assure you this," Harry says gleefully.

"Yeah, well judging from the size of your feet it probably isn't," I say. Shit. Did I really just say that? Fuck.

Harry grins. "I'm glad you think so."

It's too late to take it back.

"Attention passengers. We will be landing at Denver International Airport for a check on one of our engines. Please be assured that there is nothing to worry about."

"The fuck?" I gasp, my eyes widening. I can't handle landing and taking off three fucking times. I can't deal, okay?

Ohmyfuckinggod. Agh.

Breathe, Brandy, breathe. You'll be fine, Brandy. Calm the fuck down, Brandy.

Harry grins. "Déjà vu."

"Shut up," I mutter. I really have to stop talking to myself like what the fuck is wrong with me.

Hold up hold up hold up. That airport is in Colorado. I thought were flying the other way around. Whoa. So we're flying over the US? Then earlier when I was talking about being a strong, independent white woman in america and said I wasn't in America, but I really was? That did not make any sense. Okay scratch that entire thought.

God I must've been suuper drunk then. Because my head still a little fuzzy but I'm not like hammered or anything. Because I was under the impression that were were flying over the Pacific towards and over Asia to get to England. Guess not.

"So, Colorado, huh?" Harry says finally. He pauses. "Where is that?"

"I'm not here to give you a geography lesson, Harold," I say flatly. (I don't even know if Harold is his full name. Probs isn't.) I took a world geography class in high school. The most boring prerequisite for AP Euro ever.

"Come oooooonnn," Harry says in a whiny voice. And again. And again. Again. Fuck.

"Shut up," I spit, punching his arm. Harry winces, but looks smug. "Colorado is next to Utah. Which is next to Nevada. Which is next to California"

"Right," Harry says quietly. The idiot is actually thinking about it. Wow. "We left the LAX like four-ish hours ago," he says slowly. "So now we're only three states away?"

"Do you realize how large this country is?" I ask incredulously. "In fact, my country is so large that I'm pretty fucking surprised your country tried to take us over."

Lols. We're the humans and England is an ant that's how much of a difference in size there is.

"Excuse me," Harry says defensively. "You can't blame me for my country's actions."

"Ahh, so you agree with me?" I ask, cocking an eyebrow.

"More or less," Harry replies. There's a lull in conversation and I pull my phone out

Tumblr. Tumblah. Tum-tum-tiddly-kins. Scroll scroll scroll. My dash goes on forever. Like my flow. Oops.

Memes. More memes. Hot half naked model. Cara Delevigne. And a-holy fuck that's a penis. Alright. That's cool.

"I have a challenge."

I look up from my phone to see Harry looking at me expectantly. "A challenge," I say flatly.

"Yes. A challenge," Harry agrees.

"Are you going to tell me what this magical challenge is or are you just gonna stare at me?"

"Right," Harry says promptly. "Pennyboard race. Through the airport." He grins at me raised eyebrows. "Don't say it. I already know; I am a genius."

"No," I say flatly. "You, an international superstar penny boarding in an airport?" I shake my head. "Are you an idiot? And how do you know I have one anyways?"l

"Attention passengers. We will be landing in approximately five minutes."

And before I can even think to panic, Harry's hand closes over mine, his fingers lacing through my own. A warmness spreads throughout my body, and I fight the urge to smile and melt into puddle of Brandy. Ha.

"Don't think about it," Harry says softly, his voice low and gravelly. I nod quickly and let out a shaky breath, shutting my eyes.

When I open them up again, his face is right there. "Jesus," I breathe weakly, my voice shaking. Harry's gaze never wavers as he stares at me.

“Focus on me,” Harry says softly, his voice as soothing as ever as we begin to lose altitude. My stomach drops and I gasp quietly. “Focus.” I nod and try to ignore the stinging in the back of my eyes. I know I’m being a baby. A pussy. But that’s how scared I am. It’s so bad. I struggle to calm my breathing. “Breathe, Brandy. It’s okay.” I flinch on that last part, but push away the bile that’s about to rise in my throat. Stop it.

“Fine,” I breathe. “I’ll do it.” I look directly into Harry’s eyes, my gaze unwavering.

“Do what?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Penny board race.”

A slow grin makes it’s way onto Harry’s face. “It is so on.”