Harry, Edward and Marcel

Chapter 17

💢Just letting you know there are two flashbacks and if you find them boring you can skip them because they aren't crucial parts of the story💢

CHAPTER 17

Edward Marcel Styles P.O.V

"Y-you ready?" Marcel stuttered as he stood in the doorway, his suitcase on the ground, by his side.

"Wait," I groaned as I tried to close my bag. Since I've lived here Marcel and I have gone shopping and even though he never bought a thing, I had bought tons of things ranging from pants to shirts, shoes to hair dye and so much more (unfortunately though I had used Marcel's money so I feel really guilty about all that. I plan on paying him back as soon as I can).

"Hurry up Edward. We have to get on the bus," Marcel groaned, stomping his foot playfully.

"I don't want to go on the St. Paul's bus. Why can't we take your car?" I wined as I sat on my bag, zipping up the last few centimetres of my suitcase.

"I've told you a million times. I don't want to leave my car at the airport because the airport parking fines are expensive and I don't want to leave my car in public property for ages," he said as I pushed passed him and into the living room.

Today is the 28th, and it's about 7 in the morning. We are on our way to the airport so we can fly to Washington DC which is okay. I want to go because I've never been there but come on, it's 7am.

Since my first night here Marcel and I haven't had a real heart to heart talk. He took me to the gym once and it was fun. He said that he had a trainer and he let me trick him into thinking I was him. Not a very important part of anything, just that I had fun even if my cover was blown in like, the first few seconds.

*Flashback*

I was sitting in his car looking around as we passed through towns and continued to drive.

"Where are we going?" I asked, looking over at him. He was in sweatpants, he had a loose top on, he was wearing his contacts which I really liked because I could now see his eyes, and he had his hair out of the gel he always wears. It now had gentle curls weaving around his head and he had also bought two towels with us. He was rocking the Harry Styles' look perfectly.

"I've told you already. You have a very bad memory," he joked with me. I do remember asking him this several times but I don't remember him answering it. I looked at him and he sighed, smiling a bit.

"I've told you every time you've asked. We're going to the gym. I haven't been in like four days so I need to go," he looked at me quickly then back to the road.

"Fine" I whispered as I crossed my arms across my chest and pretended to be angry.

"You had no choice," he chuckled, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel as he waited for the red light to turn green.

I turned my head and looked at him. He really did look like Harry. I wasn't used to looking at him and not seeing his giant frames and gelled back hair. I wonder how often he actually dresses like this. The only times I've seen him not dress nerdy is the night of my first mass dinner, at night after his shower and before bed (he then strips and sleeps in his boxers as you may know) and to add to the list, when he goes to the gym (even though that is quite often I've never really payed much attention). Every single other time it's all, must wear the vest, must wear the glasses, must wear trousers and not skinnies.

"You do know that there's a gym like two blocks down from where we live and there's no need to drive this far, right?" I asked as the light turned green and he drove off.

"Yeah I know," he whispered. I looked at him meaning to say 'I'll need a better answer than that.'

"It's just that that's the gym people from school use," he said and glanced at me, hoping that that was a good enough explanation.