CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I look at him carefully, processing what he had said. Once I figure it out my eyes widen, and then I kind of smile because—wow, and then I just kind of awkwardly laugh because—okay.
And then I kind of laugh for real because that’s exactly what Harry would say and I’m surprised I had gotten surprised about that.
He just sits there in front of me with a happy smile on his face and a small twinkle in his eyes. I let out another, smaller laugh just because of him, and then I just kind of sit and stare before the silence is broken with me asking, “Oh, really?”
He nods happily and very quickly, might I add. “I do indeed.”
I kind of want to laugh because he really, actually said, ‘I do indeed’ but I keep it behind a smile and a small, witty shake of my head.
“Favorite band?”
He smiles even wider (if that’s even possible) and then begins to think, placing a hand on his chin and looking at the wall like the dork he is. Then he smiles and says, “It would have to be Arctic Monkeys.” And I just nod because who doesn’t love the Arctic Monkeys, but then he adds, “And The Kooks,” Another pause, “And The 1975.”
“Arctic Monkeys, good.” I confirm, mocking Harry’s previous actions by placing a hand on my chin, “The Kooks, very nice.” He grins, and then I finally add, “The 1975, not so nice.”
His eyes widen and his jaw drops open, “You don’t like The 1975?” He asks, really, really shocked, “What kind of taste in music do you have?”
I shrug and say, “Well, I haven’t ever heard of them, that’s all.”
He’s about to say something, but then makes a face of recognition and says, “Oh, that’s right, their debut album came out in 2012, so you most likely have not heard them.” I shake my head, agreeing with his statement, “Such a shame, they’re a great band.”
“I’ll guess you’ll just have to prove it.” I shrug and he smirks, “One song from their album and I’ll decide.”
He nods, looking as though he’s weighing the options of my offer before he says a term of agreement and goes and grabs his phone from his dresser. It’s pretty large and has the Apple logo on the back so I know it must be a nice phone.
He scrolls through a bit and taps the screen multiple times before he slowly bites his lip and studies his phone.
“Is there a problem?”
He looks up and shakes his head, before rethinking it and saying, “Actually, yes.” I signal for him to go on and he almost looks sad, “I can’t choose a song for you to listen to.”
I roll my eyes and he continues, holding back a laugh, but not exactly succeeding, “You see, this is very important,” I nod, the corners of my lips curving up slowly, “I have to prove to you that I am perfect.” And then almost as a side note adds, “For you.”
“You’re not doing too well at the moment.”
He laughs and then pouts his bottom lip out, before he looks back down at his phone and finally says, “I’ll just play the most popular one—well, one of the popular ones—I mean, it’s popular for a reason, right?”
I show a sign of agreement before he taps a couple more times and finally an eerie beat starts to play, “This one’s called Sex.”
“How fitting.” I say sarcastically and he laughs very loudly at that as a guitar starts to play and then a very soothing, yet unclear voice starts to sing.
