Turquoise

“So… are we all done with being little bitches, boys?” Louis Tomlinson asked, surveying the three other men standing near him on the studio stage. He shot a stern look in Harry’s direction. “Especially you,” he added, singling Harry out for being the crankiest one the day before. It was only fair – he had been.

Harry chewed his gum slowly, adjusting his earpiece. “Yeah,” he answered with a nod. “I’m good. Sorry, mates,” he added sheepishly. He was in a far better mood than he had been the day before, but he didn’t want to attribute it to spending time with Abby. No, it was because he’d gotten a good night’s sleep – a whopping five hours. It had absolutely nothing to do with her and her surprisingly cute giggle and tight sweater. Not a thing.

“What’d you get up to last night, mate?” Niall Horan asked Harry as he fiddled with his microphone stand, the ever-present Irish flag wrapped around the microphone. “Texted you a couple times,” he added pointedly.

Harry shifted his weight. “Erm… oh, yeah… I went over to this bakery by Mike’s house. Yeah… with Abby,” he added in a mumble, mentally slapping himself for mentioning her name. He hoped he was inaudible.

“Abby?” Liam Payne asked incredulously. “I thought you hated her.”

“I never said that,” Harry quickly defended. He hadn’t, but he hadn’t said very many kind things about her. “I just said she was an irritating brat.”

“I think you also said she was a stuck up cunt,” Louis laughed clearly pleased Harry chose to use a word that was usually just part of his and Niall’s vernacular, not Harry’s.

“Well… she kind of is…” Harry said slowly, shrugging. “Sometimes. She’s hot, though,” he told them, as though that would make his company for the evening make sense. It didn’t matter to him – hot or not, she was still an infuriating troll – but Louis would appreciate it.

“All that matters,” Louis agreed with a chuckle. “So are you dating the cunt now or what?”

“No!” Harry exclaimed, aghast. “Never!” Despite Abby’s assets, the thought of dating her made him unwittingly cringe. He couldn’t imagine being stuck with her scowl, her snappy remarks and general hatred for life. Though there was an inkling of intrigue about her, he refused to acknowledge it.

Niall let out a loud laugh. “Sure,” he gently ribbed. “It’s almost December. Is she your next winter girlfriend?” he asked, continuing to laugh boisterously as he teased his friend.

Harry scowled at Niall. “Oh, sod off,” he sighed exasperatedly. It was true – he was almost always caught out with a new girl in the winter months. The media constantly giggled about his routine, but what they failed to remember was December was generally one of the few months out of the year when Harry wasn’t on tour. He couldn’t very well be spotted on casual coffee dates while deep in an arena tour, so December was a good time to catch up with old friends – male or female. They weren’t all romantic outings. Being out with Abby was definitely not romantic.

Niall grinned, gesturing to the other men. “Anyone want to take a bet on how long it is before he’s swooning?” he asked, yelping as Harry backhanded him in the stomach.

“He’s gotta get her into bed before he can swoon,” Louis joked. “I give it a month. She’s hot and sleeps across the hall from you. Kinda disappointed you haven’t fucked her yet, to be honest,” he added, punctuating his vulgarity with a laugh.

Harry sighed again. “Can we just work?” he asked, his irritability at his bandmates showing. He didn’t want to talk about Abby, and he didn’t want to tell Louis to not use that word while talking about her. He didn’t know why, but it rubbed him the wrong way. He turned to the back of the studio, signalling to their musical director. “Jon, we about ready?”

Niall let out a girlish giggle. “He’s got a gi-ii-rl he’s in a hurry to see,” he said, doubling over with loud giggles at his joke.

“Fuck…” Harry rolled his eyes at Niall as Jon held up a hand, indicating five more minutes. He leaned against the wall, sliding down to join Liam before fishing his phone from his pocket. He’d hardly got his password typed before Liam was shoving his own phone in Harry’s face.

“Look,” he stated, showing Harry a blurry picture on the screen. “This the girl?”

Harry peered at the phone. The picture was slightly out of focus, clearly taken from a moving vehicle, of him and Abby outside of the bakery. He was surprised to see that she looked like she had a smile on her face. More accurately, she was likely mid-scowl – directed at him, of course – and in the nanosecond the camera captured, her lips curled perfectly so to emit happiness. He was leaning across the table, appearing to attempt to get closer to her. He was just trying to grab another scone, but he didn’t think the people of Twitter would see it that way.

Niall bounced over to Harry, crouching down to take a look at the photo. “Looks like a date to me!” he joked. “And I go back to December, all the time,” he sang out, making a mockery out of Harry’s past rendezvous.

“I’m gonna punch you in the dick,” Harry grumbled, shoving his hand against Niall’s shoulder, knocking him down.

Niall laughed again. “No, no!” he pleaded facetiously. “I need it! ‘Bout a fortnight and you will too,” he added, looking at Louis to solidify the bet.

“Deal,” Louis agreed, stepping over to shake hands on the bet. “This lad would do it tomorrow, I’ll bet, but she’s got a stick up her arse and it’ll take some work,” he said, gesturing to Harry as he chuckled.

Harry crossed his arms, frowning at his friends. “Sorry, boys,” he said with a shrug. “There is no way that is going to happen.”

~*~*~*~

“You look cute, though…” Jenna said, attempting to be helpful.

Abby looked up from her phone, scowling at Jenna. “Oh, really?” she fumed. She scrolled through the massive amounts of comments on the random Instagram account. “According to LarryKinkXX, I’m a… dumb Muslim slut, and a bitch who should stay away from Harry, and Larry is real… whatever that means.” Abby’s frown deepened as she continued to scroll through the comments. Harry’s fans – the word being used extremely loosely – were a horrid pack of jealous dogs. She’d never read so many mean things about herself before, and while she could try and tell herself they were just a bunch of idiots behind their phones, it was hurtful.

Jenna sighed, reaching over and grabbing Abby’s phone from her hands. “Stop reading,” she ordered, tossing the phone behind her. “These people are disgusting. They’re basing all of this shit on one picture. If they only knew how much you and Harry couldn’t stand each other…” she added with a dry chuckle.

“Then I’d be a dumb Muslim slut for not wanting to be with him,” Abby pointed out. “He has to say something. I mean… he’ll say something to right it… right? I think I’ll ask him to say something,” Abby decided, wringing her free hands together. She looked at Jenna, searching her face for her approval. “He’s doing a slew of interviews… He can just say, no, I’m not dating Abby. Right?” she questioned hopefully.

Jenna was silent, shrugging slowly. “I mean…” she began, her hesitant tone dashing Abby’s hopes. “It’s probably better if he says nothing at all…”

“How is that better?” Abby asked, her brow furrowing with confusion. “He says we’re not dating, so then people know… we’re not dating! If he keeps his dumb mouth shut, they’ll think it’s true.” And keep saying awful things about me, she thought, but didn’t voice. She wasn’t about to let it show how upset the Instagram comments made her.

“And if he says something, they’ll think he’s lying,” Jenna countered. “There’s really no winning here, Abby. His fans are going to talk, they’re going to assume and, quite frankly, they’re going to continue to be dickheads. Best thing to do is just not talk about it.”

Abby frowned. “That’s not fair!” she exclaimed, punching her fist against the sofa angrily. “I don’t want people to think I’m with him! It’s revolting, and it looks like some sick PR stunt! Like, oh, look at Abigail. Her career is floundering, no one talks about her anymore so, of course, she’s going to start shagging Harry God damn Styles! Gotta keep her name in people’s mouths somehow, right?” she retorted sarcastically, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Jenna raised an eyebrow at Abby, her hands clasped in her lap as she patiently waited for Abby to finish her tirade. “It’s not true,” she reminded Abby, words she constantly told Abby when it came to bad press. “So… don’t let it bother you. Just keep doing your thing and I’ll take care of the rest. And don’t,” she added, raising a warning finger, “do anything stupid, like calling up Nick Grimshaw’s radio show to tell the entire country your thoughts on Harry.”

Abby rolled her eyes. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about calling the Breakfast Show until Jenna mentioned it, but as usual, Jenna was right and it would be a bad idea. Not to mention, it would only make people talk more than they already were. She blew out an exasperated breath. “Fucking Harry,” she huffed. She knew the pictures weren’t his fault, but she didn’t know who else to blame. And Harry was a very easy person to be mad at.

“It’s not his fault,” Jenna gently reminded Abby. “You should feel bad for him. He’s got all of these appearances coming up, and now he’s got to field all the questions. You…” she trailed off, stopping herself from saying something that would be taken the wrong way.

Abby cocked her head. “I... don’t have any interviews, because I don’t really have a job, so… I shouldn’t be as pissed as I am?” she wondered haughtily.

“You know that’s not what I was going to say,” Jenna scolded her. “I just meant that it’s pretty shitty for him that he’s going to be trying to promote this new album, something he worked super hard at, and he’ll instead be asked countless questions about you. You know how much you hated personal questions during press junkets,” she reminded Abby.

“So it’s my fault?” Abby snapped, knowing she was unnecessarily being a brat but also not caring. She prided herself on keeping her life incredibly private, and being seen out and about with one of the biggest celebrities in the world didn’t make being elusive easy, or believable.

“Good God, child,” Jenna sighed, standing up. “I’m going to make some tea and have a bath, because you’re driving me crazy. We’ll talk about this later,” she added, tossing Abby back her phone before vacating the living room.

~*~*~*~

Stepping into the Parkes’ house after the end of another long day, Harry already felt tense. He wished he hadn’t decided to renovate his house – he would rather be home, alone, than face Abby after the release of the picture. He had no idea how she would react, but given she got pissed off if the television was too loud, he couldn’t see her being happy about being dubbed his new girlfriend. Not that he was happy about it either, but at least he knew how to be level-headed about the situation.

He kicked off his boots as he let out a loud cough, attempting to rid the persistent tickle that had been present all day. He followed the glow of the television set down the hall to the living room, expecting to see Mike and Jenna zoned out in front of the tube, but the room was empty. He sighed loudly; relieved he wouldn’t have to muddle through a conversation with anyone, before plopping down on the sofa.

“Hey!” Abby yelped loudly, cocooned in the corner of the sofa, the dark room hindering Harry’s ability to see her. He jumped up quickly, whirling around to face her.

“Sorry,” he apologised profusely. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Obviously,” Abby replied simply, tugging the blanket tighter across her knees. Given the internet developments of the day, being alone in the dark room with Harry was uncomfortable. She wondered if he felt as uneasy about the gossip surrounding them as she did. She didn’t want to ask – she didn’t want him to know how unsettled the rumours made her feel.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He knew he could go up to his room and wind down, watch a movie on his laptop rather than the 50 inch flat screen. He felt awkward being in Abby’s presence – no doubt she blamed him for the happenings of the day – but she was watching Drop Dead Fred, one of his guilty pleasures. He stood beside the couch, his arms crossed over his chest, as he tried to decide his next move.

Abby signed exasperatedly. “Are you going to go, sit, or hover like an irritating little bug?” she asked him shortly. It wasn’t as though she wanted Harry to join her – she was perfectly content on her own, and Lord knew he would try and chat through the remainder of the movie – but his crossed arm stance above her made her as uneasy as the elephant in the room.

Harry matched Abby’s sigh, his arms remaining cross as he flopped against the couch cushions. He stretched his legs out, grateful Abby was on the other end of the sofa, her luscious locks feet away from him. “Haven’t seen this movie in ages,” he commented, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it over himself.

“Mm-hmm…” Abby hummed, pointedly turning up the volume. He was so irritating. Of course he had to start chattering away the moment he sat down. He was so self-absorbed—didn’t he know talking through movies was rude and inconsiderate? Then she almost laughed. Of course he didn’t – when everyone thinks you walk on water, you think the same.

Harry shifted his position, trying to find his sweet spot. His movements shook the couch, though he was unaware as to how annoying he was being to Abby. “You know, Robin Williams was asked to play Fred, but he decided to do Hook instead,” he commented. He knew that Abby didn’t appreciate his attempt at a conversation – she made it abundantly clear by turning up the volume a second time – but the tense air in the room was suffocating, and he needed to fill it with some sort of incessant chatter.

Abby let out a loud sigh, pausing the movie before turning to Harry, a dark glare on her face. “Do you plan on talking through the entire movie, Harry?” she snapped. “Because I would actually like to watch it, and not talk to you. I think we’ve spent more than enough time together,” she added under her breath.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Jesus… You know…the picture isn’t my fault,” he reminded her, bringing up the subject Abby wouldn’t. “You chose to come with me; I didn’t force you. So don’t be mad at me just because some idiot took a blurry picture and posted it all over social media.”

Abby puffed out a breath. He always had to ruin her movies. “Yes, well… of course it’s not your fault. Nothing ever is,” she sniffed. “Now, if you don’t mind…” She held up the remote and gestured towards the television with it, an eyebrow raised.

Harry stood up. Even Drop Dead Fred wasn’t worth this. “Fine, I’ll leave you to it then,” he told her with a scoff, shaking his head as he disappeared from the room.

“Thank you,” Abby spat out sarcastically as he left. She let out another quiet sigh as she played the movie, wishing she could feel relief that Harry left, rather than the guilt building in the pit of her stomach.

~*~*~*~

Cough. Cough, cough. Ahem. Cough.

Abby flopped back and forth in her bed, covering her head with a pillow as she attempted to block out Harry’s loud coughs coming from the next room. She groaned, the volume rivaling Harry’s coughs. All she wanted to do was sleep, but he was making it impossible for her to slink into DreamLand.

She pushed away the covers before stomping out of her room and down the stairs, hoping she was loud enough for Harry to hear. She wasn’t stupid; she knew he couldn’t help coughing, but it was just another thing he did that annoyed the hell out of her. She didn’t think it was possible for him to do something that didn’t annoy her.

Harry rolled his eyes as he heard Abby stomp down the stairs like the brat she was. Was she really that stupid to think he was coughing just to annoy her? She was unbearably vain. All he wanted to do was sleep. He coughed again; propping his pillows up higher. Maybe that would work… yes… it was wo –

Cough, cough.

He groaned again, covering his face with his hands. He just wanted to sleep!

Knock, knock. “Harry.”

Harry jumped with a start. Had he fallen asleep? Of course he had – and of course, Abby was first in line to wake him up. Such a nuisance, that girl. “What?” he grunted out, annoyed by the disturbance and her presence on the other side of the door.

Taking his gruff response as an invitation to enter, Abby pushed open the door, stepping into Harry’s bedroom. She walked closer to the bed, surprising Harry when she held out a steaming mug of tea towards him.

“This is more for me than for you,” she told him, her gaze remaining locked on the floor. She didn’t want to tell Harry she felt guilty for snapping at him downstairs. Jenna was right – he had a lot more on his plate than she did, and the picture didn’t just affect her. She didn’t want to tell him she used her grandma’s recipe for cough and cold tea and didn’t scrimp on the ginger, even though she hated the smell. She didn’t want to tell him anything – she just wanted him to drink the tea and go to sleep.

Harry sat up straighter, eying the mug warily. “What is that?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t think Abby would purposely poison him, but he knew he couldn’t be sure.

Abby sighed at him. “What do you think it is?” she retorted as he gingerly took the mug. “It’s fucking tea. It’ll stop your damn coughing so the city of London can actually sleep.”

He wanted to roll his eyes at her cheeky sarcasm, but his surprise took over. “You made me tea?” he asked, stunned by her gesture. He watched her as he took a sip, her eyes still focused on the floor. “Uhm… well, thanks…” he told her slowly, feeling the thick, honey liquid coat his throat. Oh, it was good. He didn’t understand why Abby would do something nice for him, but then he remembered why he made her a grilled cheese – he’d felt bad. He didn’t think Abby was capable of feeling anything but hatred, but maybe he was mistaken. Could she have a heart that wasn’t made entirely of stone and ice?

Abby nodded. “Yes, well…” she said, her lips pursed together. Being nice to him was more awkward than fighting. “Like I said, I need to sleep too…” she added with a shrug.

“You can just say ‘you’re welcome’, you know,” Harry told her, shaking his head before taking another sip. She could say the drink was more for her than him, but he knew it was a kind gesture. He wanted her to admit it.

“You’re welcome,” Abby deadpanned, the words not sounding at all convincing. “Hope it helps,” she added with a shrug, taking a step towards the door. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, wanting to plead with him to set the record straight, but also never wanting to plead at Harry Styles for anything.

He smirked at her. For an actress, Abby was doing a piss-poor job of convincing him she had nothing more to say. “Well?” he asked expectantly, snickering. “Go on and say it.”

“Say what?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know, whatever you’re thinking you should say but don’t want to say,” he challenged her. “You’re white-knuckling the doorknob,” he pointed out, “so just say what you’ve gotta say, because this drink is making me woozy and I want to sleep.”

Fuck him. How dare he assume he knew her, knew that she was struggling to say what she was thinking? Who did he think he was? She glared at him, his smirk infuriating her. Smug fucking bastard, she thought to herself. She exhaled loudly, her hand remaining on the door.

“I…” she began, sighing again. Fuck, he pissed her off. “Look, this fucking picture… I don’t want people thinking I’m dating you.”

He snorted, not surprised by her comment, but slightly taken aback by her bluntness. “Sweetheart, I don’t want people thinking I’m dating you, either,” he snapped back, the term of endearment sounding pleasantly patronizing.

“Good!” Abby retorted, refusing to acknowledge the slight sinking feeling his words caused. “So, tomorrow then… you should have no problem telling the entire country that we’re not… Right?” she asked, her eyes wide as she stared at him.

He knew she was going to ask him that. “Fuck, Abby…” he sighed. “I don’t know if I can. I want to!” he quickly added before she could interrupt. “Lord fucking knows I do. But I… like, I’ve been told so many times to just not answer the questions. To be ‘charmingly vague’, so to speak,” he said with a sigh, his hands making air quotes. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea,” he admitted, preparing for her wrath.

Abby exhaled loudly as he recited the same thing Jenna had said, nearly verbatim. “So, you want people to think we’re together?” she asked him. “I know you’re the fucking womanizer of the group and you’ve always got to have someone new on your arm, but I don’t want to be part of your little game!”

“It’s not a game,” Harry argued. He was too tired for this. “It’s just…” he trailed off, taking another gulp from the mug. Abby wasn’t going to listen to his excuses. If he wanted to sleep, he’d have to appease her. He quietly exhaled. “Fine. I will… do my best,” he lamely promised her.

Relief covered Abby’s face. “Really?” she asked hopefully. “You really will?” She wasn’t sure if she could trust Harry to do the right thing, but, as unsettling as it was, he was her only hope.

Harry nodded slowly. “I will do my best,” he reiterated, not wanting Abby to murder him in his sleep when things didn’t go as she wanted them to. And they wouldn’t, he could almost guarantee it.

Abby smiled brightly, quite possibly the realest smile Harry had ever seen across her face. It was nice. Maybe he could try to do things her way. Maybe she would be more human afterwards. “Thank you,” she told him, grasping the doorknob again. “Good night,” she added before stepping into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind her.

“Good night,” Harry echoed as the door closed. He leaned back against the pillows, sipping his tea thoughtfully. Denying the relationship would have the opposite affect Abby wanted – it would never stop people from talking, but it would make her happy. Charmingly avoiding the question would send Abby into a fit of terrifying rage, but news of the fictitious relationship would disappear into the depths of the internet. Neither outcome was desirable, but as he finished his tea and closed his eyes, Abby’s bright smile was at the front of his mind. If he could do it her way, he decided as he drifted to sleep, he would.

Notes