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Turquoise

Five

“Fuck, you’re a bad driver,” Abby spat out as Harry parked outside of the bakery, flexing her fingers that had been tightly gripping the door handle. There wasn’t a yellow light he didn’t run and his jerky braking might have given Abby a serious case of whiplash. Her unsettled stomach reminded her to never let Harry drive again. Not that she was planning on making a habit of going on excursions with Harry.

Harry glanced sideways at her. He was far from a bad driver. It might have taken him a couple – okay, four – times to pass his driver’s test, but that didn’t mean he was a bad driver, just a bad test-taker. “Well, you’re a fucking backseat driver and a control freak,” he countered hotly. He was already regretting suggesting the two of them head out on an after-dinner trek for sweets. He still wasn’t sure why he asked her. It would help album sales, sure, but he was one-quarter of the biggest boyband in the world. He didn’t need Abby’s help to sell albums. He was doubting all of his decisions so much lately, and he didn’t like it.

“Well, first of all…” Abby began, pushing open her door. “A stop sign isn’t merely a suggestion. And secondly…”

“Stop talking” Harry interrupted exasperatedly, pushing open his own door and stepping out. “And you weren’t wearing your seatbelt properly,” he added, having noticed she tucked the shoulder strap under her arm. Some perfectionist she was.

Abby shook her head, falling into step beside Harry before widening her strides and cutting in front of him. “Better call the police,” she advised over her shoulder, pulling open the door and stepping into the bakery before Harry. She didn’t want him to open the door for her, and didn’t want to think about what it would mean if he did – or didn’t.

“Roxanne!” Harry sang out quietly under his breath, following Abby inside. Since it was nearing the end of the day, the smell of fresh sweets had subsided, but the perennial perfume of vanilla and powdered sugar still lightly lingered. He stood in front of the display cabinet, almost drooling over the selection of baked goods. A middle-aged woman stood across from Harry, attempting to wait patiently as he made up his mind.

“Hello!” Harry greeted happily, his friendly tone causing Abby to roll her eyes. He really could turn it on and off like a faucet. “These apricot scones… They’re one-eighty?”

“That’s what it says,” the employee said, the struggle in her voice clear.

“Right,” Harry mused, casting a cheeky smirk in Abby’s direction. She was choosing to ignore him, focusing her attention on the display of happy-face decorated cookies. The sign stated they were a fundraiser for the children’s hospital, so Abby knew she had no choice but to buy a boxful. And if she happened to eat the majority of the box, and hide it under her bed away from Harry, it would be okay because the sick kids would have a nice Christmas.

“Well, I’ll start with five of those,” Harry determined, planning on spending more than Abby allotted him from the moment she gave him a budget. “And… ooh, carrot cake! I’ll take two slices, please. Hey, what’s a kugelhopf?” he wondered, pronouncing the name wrong but not caring. It was expensive.

“I don’t know, some cake,” the cashier told him, sighing exasperatedly. “Think it has raisins in it.”

“Gross,” Harry commented, making a face. “One, please.”

Abby exhaled loudly, stomping over to join Harry. “Dummy, your math is way off,” she pointed out to him. She didn’t care about how much Harry bought, but she found it more than a little disrespectful that she told him to spend ten pounds, and he was well on his way to at least doubling that. But Harry and disrespect went hand-in-hand, so she shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Shhh…” Harry shushed Abby, holding a finger close to her lips, careful to avoid actually touching her. “I’m perusing.”

Abby slapped his hand away from her, glaring at him. “You’re a gross pig. I’m going to make you eat every last morsel of this, you know,” she told him. “No leftovers. This is your punishment for being disgustingly greedy.”

“Thank you,” Harry replied, sarcastically sweet. “Do you think we need a whole cake? I think we do.”

“I think we don’t,” Abby argued, not wanting to think about how delicious the white chocolate cheesecake would taste. She hated the treadmill, but after tonight she may have to make it her best friend.

“We Abba-dabba-do!” Harry disagreed in a sing-song voice, flashing his perfect dimpled smile at the cashier. “She’s drooling over the cheesecake, love,” he stated, nodding towards Abby, who responded with a loud huff. “Best box that up before there’s a flood in here, yeah?” he laughed loudly.

“Oh, for crying out loud, Harry!” Abby groaned. If he wasn’t so annoying, he might be funny. Maybe. He just laughed, nodding when the cashier silently indicated if she was boxing up the cake or not.

“Anything else?” the cashier asked, adding the cake to the growing pile near the register.

Abby knew she didn’t need the cookies now, not with Willy Wonka’s entire factory about to come home with her, but she really wanted those cookies. “Uhm… a dozen of those cookies,” she said grudgingly. “The fundraising ones,” she added, justifying her purchase.

Harry thumped Abby on the back. “Atta girl,” he cooed bitingly. “Join the Fat Cow Club with me.”

Abby frowned at his words – and the sudden drop in her stomach she felt when he touched her back, though far from a delicate touch. She pushed the thought away, telling herself she was just taken by surprise when he touched her, nothing more. Why would it – how could it – be anything else?

“Oh, and two coffees,” Harry added on a whim, extending the bakery trip. Abby shot him a curious glance. “I’m tired,” he reminded her.

“I’m not,” Abby argued. “Coffee at this hour? I’ll be up all night.”

Harry shrugged. “Then you can let yours get cold while you tap your foot impatiently like the brat that you are, while I slowly drink mine and make you wait like the annoying dick that I am,” he suggested, flashing her a cheeky smile.

“That’s… not entirely inaccurate,” Abby admitted, stepping to the cash counter as the cashier finished ringing up their copious amounts of baked goods. Harry really took her ten pound limit and blew it right out of the water.

Harry laughed, hip-checking Abby out of the way as he thrust his credit card towards the cashier. “I want to be the one who helped the children’s hospital, not you,” he told her, though he gaze dropped sheepishly. He didn’t want to tell her he intended on paying for their sweets the entire time. It would mean her company wasn’t necessary. And while maybe it wasn’t – no one was even in the bakery to take pictures of them together – maybe it was.

“Okay…” Abby answered slowly, curiously watching Harry as he completed the purchase. “Why did I come, then?” she wanted to know. Surely he didn’t invite her along just so he could spend time with her. The idea was almost laughable.

Harry rolled his eyes at Abby, looping the white bags over his arms. “Just get your coffee,” he instructed, sticking his wallet back into his pocket. He didn’t know what to tell her.

Abby picked up the mug, realising the coffee was not in a to-go cup. Apparently they were staying. She didn’t know how she felt about that, but she followed Harry out the door to the sidewalk seating area. The bakery had a few electric heaters set up outside the door, creating a welcoming outdoor space even in November.

He plopped down in a chair, setting the bags on the cement beside him. “Definitely need to tap into these scones,” he announced, pawing through the bags until he found the right box. He set it on the table and pulled out a treat before pushing the box towards Abby. “You know you want one!” he taunted, tapping the box even closer as she hesitated.

“Fuck…” Abby sighed, taking a scone. “I’m going to get massively fat.”

Harry scoffed, finishing his scone in a matter of just a few bites. “Oh, bull… you’re hot,” he told her, his eyes widening after a moment as he realised what he said. Fuck. Fuck, shit, ass, damn. Of course, it was true, but he didn’t need Abby to know he thought it. “I mean… isn’t that what the Teen Choice Awards said?” he added with a strangled chuckle, attempting to right his wrong.

Abby knitted her brows together curiously. Hot? He didn’t just say she was hot. They couldn’t stand each other! How in the world could he think she was hot? And why would he say it? Dumbfounded by his comment, Abby remained speechless.

“You do talk some shit, though, don’t you?” she finally managed to say, attempting to seem blasé about his comment.

Harry flushed darkly, feeling the heat crawl up his neck and settling on his cheeks. He silently willed the crimson away but the more he focused on his red face, the hotter he felt. He took a gulp of his coffee, avoiding Abby’s eyes and her curiously raised eyebrows. He scowled into his cup. “Whatever,” he managed to spit out, rolling his eyes. “You ought to learn how to take a compliment.”

Abby laughed incredulously. “Seriously,” she asked, snickering. “You think calling someone hot is a compliment? It’s a sexual innuendo, not a compliment!”
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered into his mug. “You’re so fucking uptight. It’s not a sexual innuendo. Believe me, I’m not trying to have sex with you,” he scoffed, ensuring he kept his eyes north of her tight shirt. Fuck that sweater.

“Good!” Abby answered, ignoring the unsettling feeling of disappointment creeping into her mind. “And I’m not uptight,” she argued, though it was something she’d been told all of her life. She knew she was, but it didn’t mean she liked hearing it.

Harry laughed loudly. “Right, and the Pope’s not Catholic,” he chuckled. “Seriously, like what would happen to your face if you actually cracked a smile or” – he gasped facetiously – “laughed? Would it crumble? Would you turn to statue? Would the sun blow up?”

Abby sipped her coffee primly. “Maybe if you said something funny, I’d have a reason to laugh.”

“Hey!” Harry protested. “I’m very funny!”

“Mm-hmm,” Abby hummed, unconvinced.

Her disbelieving hum deeply aggravated Harry. He was funny! He always made people laugh – unless said people were uptight stones, like Abby. He frowned at her, his grimace deepening as she reached for another scone. “Those are mine,” he told her, sounding like a two year old.

“You are such a child,” Abby told him, taking a small bite before licking the entirety of the top of the treat and placing it back in the box. Maybe she was a child, too.

He rolled his eyes. “If you think that’s going to stop me, you’re very wrong,” he replied. A little spit wasn’t going to deter him from his scones. “Where’s your cookies at?” he wondered, rummaging through the bags for the box of cookies. He placed it on the table, grinning triumphantly as he made a disgusting sound in his throat, mimicking a cat coughing up a hairball, preparing to spit in the box.

“Don’t you dare!” Abby yelped, reaching across the table and snatching the box from Harry’s hands. “These are mine,” she reminded him, holding the box close to her chest.

Harry pouted. “I shared,” he pointed out.

He did. With a sigh, Abby opened the box. The cookies were so pretty, but she supposed she didn’t need all of them. Hesitantly, she pulled a single cookie out of the box and held it towards Harry. “I suppose… you can have one…”

“You’re too kind,” Harry smirked, reaching out and taking the cookie from Abby. He felt a slight jolt in his stomach as their fingers touched, the electric shock throwing him off-guard. He gave his head a quick shake, as though to erase the feelings. Clearly, the wrong head was at the helm of his feelings. Didn’t his mini-man realise how irritating Abby was?

“Good?” Abby asked with a snicker, watching as Harry devoured half the cookie in just one bite. For a skinny guy, he sure could pack it away. She glanced across the street as she heard a car door slam, a woman and her daughter – a pudgy preteen – crossing the street. As she approached, her eyes widened at the sight of the celebrities sitting outside of the bakery.

Harry chuckled to himself; realising he was looking forward to being approached by a fan in front of Abby. He knew fans were old hat to her, but now he would be able to prove to Abby that she was the only one who thought of him as a douche or dickhead.

“Cover your ears, she may scream,” Harry muttered under his breath to Abby. “Just follow my lead. I’m sure I’ve got a bit more experience in this than you do,” he added with sass as the girl came to a sudden stop in front of their table, leaving Abby no time for a quick rebuttal. The girl’s jaw was nearly on the ground, her eyes as wide as saucers.

“Oh!” she finally yelped out, startling Abby. Preteens had a certain octave about them, and this girl was no exception. Her chubby hand clamped over her mouth, and Abby could plainly see her hands were shaking. If the reaction wasn’t for Harry, it would have been rather cute.

Harry smiled his annoyingly dimpled grin. “Hello, love,” he greeted smoothly.

The girl quickly glanced back and forth between Harry and Abby. “Hi…” she greeted after a beat, sounding questioning. She turned to Abby, her hand grasping the back of the chair for support. “Oh, my God!” she shrieked, centimeters from Abby’s ear. “You’re… you’re… you’re… Ryia Lero!” she cried, her voice wavering with tears as she came face to face with Abby Hajjar, not Harry Styles.

Harry’s jaw visibly dropped, and Abby couldn’t help herself. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach as she let out a boisterous laugh at his expression. He was such a cocky asshole, and seeing his shock over not being recognised was the best thing Abby had ever seen. “Look at your face!” she exclaimed through gales of laughter. He scowled at her, which only made her laugh harder. After a moment, Abby managed to compose herself, turning to the young girl.

“Sorry, dear,” she said to the girl, her voice still high with giggles. “You can call me Abby,” she added pleasantly, offering her steady hand to the girl’s shaking one. Abby wasn’t usually overly friendly to fans – she took pictures, but rarely smiled, she said thank you, but said nothing more. Being bombarded by overzealous teens was overwhelming for her private self, but having Harry close by made it easier – not because he comforted her, no! Because it gave her a chance to show him she wasn’t the uptight bitch he thought she was.

“Abby!” the girl squeaked out. “I just love you so much! I read all the books in one weekend and I saw all of the movies the day they came out and I saw them all a bazillion times and I bought all of the special edition copies and I have your face on my backpack and I bought the shampoo and I even have the French and German editions of the books even though I can’t read them because I’m such a massive fan!”

Jesus, Harry thought to himself, attempting to maintain a disenchanted face. He didn’t want to look like he cared that this girl didn’t know who he was – lots of girls knew who he was – but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him, just a hair. Or a whole head.

Jesus, Abby thought, attempting to keep up with the girl’s rambling. As she trailed off, Abby realised it was time for a response, though she wasn’t entirely sure what she was responding to. “Well… thank you very much,” she said, being sure to smile sweetly. “What’s your name?”

“Emma!” she practically shouted. “You’re just… oh, my goodness, you’re so pretty!” she exclaimed, pulling her gaze from Abby for just a moment, looking to Harry for confirmation.

“Oh my, yes… she’s completely out of this world,” Harry agreed, sounding sarcastic but not lying. He rolled his eyes at Abby the moment Emma looked away from him to quash his statement, but as he called her hot earlier, he couldn’t be sure if Abby believed his sass.

Emma hopped from one foot to the other, glancing inside the bakery. “Would it be… I mean, can I… Can I please have a picture? Please?” she begged, staring at Abby hopefully.

Abby really hated this part. She always felt so awkward in pictures, even those with friends. But she realised she couldn’t tell Emma no – she was certain the poor girl would cry if she didn’t get a picture with Ryia Lero. So, she obliged, nodding at Emma.

“Sure,” she agreed, standing up. Emma excitedly pulled out her phone, setting it to selfie setting. Abby shook her head, taking the phone from her. “No, no. We have a photographer right here. And he’s not doing anything, so…” She smirked at Harry, gesturing for him to stand.

Harry sighed at Abby. “I’m eating,” he pointed out, evoking a glare from Abby. “Alright, fine… At your service,” he said obediently, standing up and taking the phone from Abby. “Not doing anything…” he repeated in a scoff, shaking his head at her. “Emma, love, I’m just going to take a selfie. Show your friends.”

Fuck, he was vain. “Tell them all about the homeless guy I bought dessert for,” Abby piped up, not about to let Harry steal her thunder. “Harry, stop fucking around – I mean, stop messing about with the poor girl’s camera,” she scolded him after he posed for more than a couple selfies.

“Fine,” he huffed, aiming the camera at the two girls. “Smile like you love life!” he quipped, raising an eyebrow at Abby before taking the picture. “Abby. Smile like I got hit by a bus!” he told them, taking another picture as Abby laughed. Why did he think she looked adorable? He handed the camera back to Emma, who immediately reviewed them.

She smiled brightly at Abby. “Thank you so much!” she squealed. “I read on a bunch of Tumblr blogs that you weren’t very nice, and it really made me sad! But you’re so nice and kind! You’re just the best!”

Abby smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She knew Emma didn’t mean to be insulting with her comment, but Abby didn’t like to hear that a bunch of blogs discussed how mean she truly was. “Well… thank you, for that,” she stated, her voice stiffer than she intended. “You’re very kind as well.”

Emma’s mother exited the bakery at that moment, relieving Abby. “It was so amazing to meet you!” Emma told Abby, though seeming to be stuck in her spot and not wanting to leave. Abby suddenly had a horrible realisation that Emma wanted to hug her. She winced at the thought – she abhorred hugs.

Harry eyed Abby curiously. She went from being jovial and bubbly to Emma – albeit fake, but the young girl didn’t know – to being stiff and quiet. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her body, as though to protect herself from the imminent hug Emma would be asking for. Harry could practically write a dissertation on teen and preteen girls – they always wanted hugs. Abby was a massive pain in his ass, the most annoying person he’d ever met, but he knew if Emma tried to hug Abby, the experience would be ruined for her, and Abby would be even more miserable than she already could be.

Abruptly, he stood up, positioning himself slightly between Emma and Abby. “Emma, it was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, smiling at the girl. He reached across the table, grabbing the box of Abby’s cookies. “As a parting gift… from Abby… She picked them out, you know. Might have even touched one or two,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows. He thrust the package into Emma’s hands. “Go on and enjoy them with your friends.” He turned to Abby, nudging her to sit in her chair. “Your phone’s ringing,” he told her, staring at her as he silently told her to follow his lead. “Might be Margaret!”

Abby furrowed her brow at Harry as a couple of beats passed. “Oh!” she finally exclaimed, catching on to his ploy. “Right, Margaret! So sorry, Emma, but I must take this call from the Princess! Enjoy the cookies!” she added gaily, turning her back on Emma and rummaging through her purse. A few moments later, Harry let out a loud guffaw, falling into his seat.

“The Princess!?” he choked out between chuckles.

“Uhm… Princess Margaret!” Abby retorted. “The Queen’s sister? Idiot…”

Harry cracked up, his eyes squinting shut as he giggled at Abby’s retort. She was so sassy, and so wrong, making it all the more humorous. “You dolt, she died like… fifteen years ago!” Harry exclaimed, banging his fist on the table as he laughed.

Abby stared at him. She wasn’t sure if she knew that or not. He could be wrong. “Well… who the fuck is Margaret then?” she demanded.

Harry shrugged grandiosely. “Fuck if I know! Just a name!” he answered. “But it worked, anyway…” he pointed out. “I could kind of tell she was wearing out her welcome,” he admitted to Abby. “Thought… y’know, since I wasn’t doing anything…” he jibbed lightly.

Abby pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to admit it, but she sort of liked how Harry picked up on her social queues and stepped up to protect her from the excitable Emma. “Well… yeah,” she confessed. She didn’t tell Harry she was scared Emma had been about to hug her – she didn’t think she needed to. “Thank you,” she added, quite possibly the most sincere statement she’d made to Harry. “But not thank you for giving her my cookies,” she pointed out.

Harry grinned at Abby. Hearing her thank him felt nicer than he thought it would. “Mine,” he corrected. “I paid.”

Abby rolled her eyes at his argumentative statement. “Well… if you would have just played by the rules, they would have been mine,” she countered.

“Fine… next time, you can pay for the revolting amount of sweets,” Harry promised her. Next time… he thought to himself. For some unsettling reason, it didn’t sound as bad anymore.

Notes

Comments

Lmao louis and niall are hilarious

Oh these boys...I love them taking the piss out of Harry. Poor guy. LOL and H using the C word...wow...why is that soooo hot?

Making tea for him when she hates him....wanting to sleep or not... I can't take it!

Kammy. Kammy.
9/6/17

L M A O
this was gold

LivinLikeLarry LivinLikeLarry
8/26/17

Awwww poor Harry's ego a lil bruised lol
he got his wish though...she laughed
the tension is killing me though...."get a room already!"

love this!

Kammy. Kammy.
8/25/17

@Kammy.
It's a lot of fun writing him this way! Glad you like it!!

harambejtrump harambejtrump
8/23/17