Flicker 》Harry Styles x Kennedy Walsh {COMPLETED}

11: Time To Compulsively Clean The House

Watermelon Sugar MV out now! 🍉

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Cory had been annoying the hell out of me for the past five minutes.

"It didn't go that way," I say each word with a clap, a smile threatening to break through my lips. "He's gay, obviously, and so was the chancellor's son. He just hasn't realized it yet!"

"How do you even not realize you're gay?" Cory asks, scrunching his nose.

"How the hell would I know?"

"Exactly," he leans forward. "Maybe he's not then."

"Are you really debating a fictional character's sexuality with me right now?"

Jesus Christ. Cory and I had been bantering for around five minutes about Sex Education. Apparently he's not a big fan of the tandem Eric-Adam. Nope, he's not a homophobe. He just thinks that Adam is just curious about certain things. Huh, makes two of us.

I bring my attention back to Cory as I wait for his response.

He rights himself. "How're things with Styles?"

I'm so thrown off by the spontaneity of the question that an automatic "what?" escapes my mouth. I pray to the heavens that the chuckle that followed didn't sound nervous.

"Good. Great—why do you ask?"

"Curious," he shrugs. "How's the life of a celebrity?"

"Idiot," I stand and make my way to Mom's bedroom, a smile playing on my lips. I hear his low chuckle as I pass by him. Brandon and Nick are playing by the couch.

I check my phone again for any notification, and my heart immediately deflates when nothing new has come up. Harry and I hadn't been in contact for almost two days now. His last reply had been after I told him that painting has never been my forte.

He replied, "Well, maybe it's your fifty?"

I swear I laughed for a full three minutes before I even mustered up the stability to type out a reply. It's been two days since that and I haven't heard a peep from him.

He's currently in Pittsburgh, the tour's still on the move, and I'm a loser for waiting for him to reply. This is so frustrating. I've never been one to helplessly be on the waiting end of a conversation—but I've never talked to a world-famous celebrity either, so there's that.

Jesus, all this waiting is giving me anxiety. 

Claudia barges into the room. "I swear they're all idiots."

"Like I didn't already know that," I answer with a smirk. 

"What happened?" Mom asks. 

She rolls her eyes, clearly irritated. "They were playing with flour, splashed it all over the kitchen."

"They did what?" Mom was fully out the door before she finished saying that.

"Oh, they're so dead now," Claudia says with a chuckle, closing the door after Mom and effectively blocking out the screaming match about to ensue. 

"Honestly, they're all just children in adult bodies," I turn my attention back to Animal Crossing, reminded about the video we shot earlier. "Who even thinks playing Animal Crossing is my personality? It's fucking not."

"You're one to talk. What's with walking like a duck as an impression of me?"

We burst into laughter. "It's called creative representation."