#like I don't get it. We all mock the people who take selfies with art at the moma with the caption 'paintings we think we could do'

[undead-moth]

Honestly there's nothing wrong with chicklit as a genre. There's nothing wrong with romance. Nothing wrong with smut or erotica. Nothing wrong with incorporating common tropes, even "fan fic" tropes. Nothing wrong with reading purely for entertainment. Nothing wrong with books not being literary, or with people not reading literary books -

But what's frustrating is the moment a writer criticizes booktok for the impact it's had on the current market, or tries to discuss the implications of there being so many writers right now who can't write becoming six-times New York Times bestsellers or whatever just because they write chicklit and have a lot of followers on tiktok, or laments the fact that these same writers are being handed a list of tropes from their editors to design a novel around meanwhile other authors who will never be published have stories they've been working on, trying to perfect and dying to share for years or even decades, or wishes literary writers weren't struggling so much to get published despite their stunning work just because so few people appreciate that level of craft -

People assume you're a pearl-clutching puritanical pretentious snob who hates women for wanting to read about sex and love and is probably a fascist who thinks declining literacy is the downfall of the west or whatever anyway.

It's so depressing.

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (III)

Chapter 3: Hydrangeas And Rain

 Here we go with a third chapter! As I've written ahead with this story (unbelievable coming form me, I know…) I'm gonna try to keep on posting every 48 or 72 hours :)

No warnings in this, except for tooth-rotting fluff!

Word Count: 2429

Harry and you had spent quite a lot of time together for the past few weeks, and over the course of the last couple of months you had grown to be good friends. He made you laugh like crazy, and the more time you spent with him, the more you were certain that your first impression had been right. He truly was a nice person.

And Harry found your kindness radiant, as well as your wits as hilarious as he had hoped for.

It was easy for the two of you to become friends. The universes you evolved in were different, yet your views of the world were similar. You could spend hours listening to him telling you crazy stories about his tours across the world, and you told him about the stupidest questions your customers asked. He taught you about music, and you taught him about flowers. You had never thought to find curiosity towards this field, yet kept on asking Harry questions about notes and guitars and his favourite songs. Maybe you had underestimated the interest you would find in this art, perhaps it was also because Harry made it so interesting. And he asked about all the flowers you had in the shop, and remembered your favourite ones, and was eager to learn more about plants. If he were to be completely honest, he hadn't thought that he would ever want to learn so many details about plants, but maybe it was only because you were teaching him all these things that he was so curious.

It was Thursday, and for the last 4 weeks, some kind of tradition had settled between you and Harry, where he would pick you up at the end of your shift and you would spend the evening together, either going to the cinema or simply talking around a pizza or walking along the beach near L.A as you had planned on doing tonight.

You were running late though, and Harry was walking around the shop, smelling flowers and admiring vivid colours, his hands clasped behind his back, his sunglasses resting upon his head, and he was biting on a chewing-gum.

The sight of Harry in the shop was so normal by now that none of your colleagues asked him if he wanted to buy anything. They gave him a polite smile, and left him alone to patiently wait for you to be done with your day of work.

Your hand was mostly healed and your days had taken back their crazy pace. You found it refreshing to spend time with a new friend, someone who didn't make a living in selling flowers the way you did. Your determination to become a successful florist had left you with only one or two friends who didn't work in your field of expertise. But spending time with Harry made you realize that maybe you had been missing out for the past few years. Perhaps you had narrowed your life too much during your studies, closing your vision to only keep whatever was linked to your big dream. You were reminded these days though that there was a broader world out there to be listened to and experienced. Which was why, despite your busy schedule and demanding job, you still made time for Harry these days, and if you were honest, were eager to see him again once you parted.

"Just two minutes!" you told him for the fifth time since he had passed the door, rushing across the store to add a new bouquet to the bucket next to him.

He chuckled in response.

"Take your time. I don't mind."

"I just need three… four minutes… four minutes!"

"I love how time expands whenever I'm around you," he joked, making you laugh.

"Shut up! I'm feeling bad for making you wait already."

"Good. I do hope you're feeling terrible to let me with nothing to do but admire these hydrangeas."

You gave him a proud smile.

"Mr. Styles, we might make a florist out of you yet!"

He winked at you, a playful smile on his lips.

"Maybe my teacher is just very talented."

"Oh, I know it's all thanks to me!"

You disappeared to the other side of the counter again, your two laughs filling up the shop.

When you came back in your casual clothes again, Harry was taking a selfie with a perfect stranger, who seemed overexcited. He excused himself when he saw you though, but gave the three fans a little wave as he walked out of the shop with you.

It wasn't the first occurrence of fans spotting Harry and asking for a picture while the two of you were together, but you had to admit that you weren't used to it for now. Perhaps it was because you hadn't really grasped the whole concept of fame just yet.

You had listened to some of his songs by now, and recognized some of them, although you had no idea at first that he had been the one behind them. You liked his records, but you still hadn't fully realized how big his band had been.

He gave you a kind smile, while you headed for his car, a silent way for him to ask if everything was alright and to reassure you, if you needed. You nudged his arm in response, and all was fine.

It was the end of the afternoon, and some dark clouds hovered above the city, menacing and drenched in what promised to turn into heavy rain. You studied the sky, a frown forming on your face.

"It doesn't look so good."

"Should we give up on the beach idea?"

"Yeah… what about a boardgame?"

"Sounds nice to me! Your place or mine?"

"Your Scrabble is in much better shape than mine," you reminded him, and he nodded as you climbed in his car.

"Then mine it is."

You had been driving for no more than five minutes when the first large drops of rain started to explode on the windshield.

"Yep, no beach for today," Harry sighed.

"I like rainy afternoons though. They're meant to be spent in pyjamas drinking hot cocoa."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. Sometimes you spoke without thinking, just like this, and it was always to let out the most adorable thoughts.

"It's kind of true," he admitted.

"It's a tradition we had with my mom when I was little," you went on, a tender smile on your lips.

You turned to Harry, with a face that revealed that you had just had a brilliant idea. Or a particularly silly one, generally, the two were related.

"We should do that."

"Do what?" Harry frowned.

"Spend the afternoon in our pyjamas, and drink hot cocoa."

Harry exploded with laughter.

"While I beat the shit out of you at Scrabble, of course," you added.

"In your wildest dreams, I'm winning this time," he replied. "But sure, you know what? That could be fun. Let's drop by your flat and grab your pyjamas then."

It was a silly idea, but Harry humoured anyway. He drove to your flat first, let you grab a few things, and once at his house you both changed into more comfortable clothes.

But once you were both settled, sitting cross-legged on the floor around his Scrabble board, with two cups of hot cocoa, some chocolate chip cookies and the fall of rain pouring outside echoing through his large house, Harry decided that it wasn't a silly idea at all. He was wrapped in his favourite bathrobe and some oversized clothes, his hair a mess but he didn't care. And across from him, you were dressed in some adorable pink pjs with a unicorn on your t-shirt.

It felt nice. Relaxed. Despite the cold that he had imagined coming from the raindrops outside, he felt warm and happy. You reckoned that it was a reassuring thing indeed, to sit so comfortably with him.

"What about your music? Any news for that?" you asked before reaching for your third cookie, and Harry couldn't help but notice that you seemed to particularly love the biscuits.

"Yeah, I'm gonna go to London for a few weeks, get a band. See some friends who might help with that."

You nodded, and recognized the small change in his posture as his shoulder bent forwards just an inch or two.

You gave him the warmest and most reassuring smile he had ever seen.

"You're gonna be fine. I'm sure you'll find the right people, and make a great record."

"I trust your professional insight," he mocked, huffing in response.

"Don't be like that! You're gonna be fine. Just don't… put too much pressure on yourself. You're talented, if you find the right people to surround you, then nothing can stop you."

He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Have you been secretly listening to my music?"

You shrugged.

"I wouldn't say secretly. We're friends! I reckoned that I had to listen to your stuff. And I like it!"

"Thanks," he finally smiled, his dimples creasing his cheeks, and he lowered his eyes, blushing a little.

"I really do. Which is why I truly believe that… if you do what you love and don't try to go back to the past, but listen to your heart and to who you are instead, you're going to make some amazing songs."

His shoulders straightened once more, and when he looked up at you his smile made his eyes shine a little greener.

"That sounds like an awfully good advice."

"I know," you joked, letting out a chuckle. "When are you leaving?"

"In a couple of weeks."

"You… you'll call me while you're there, right?" you asked in a changed tone, that turned from warm to hesitant, doubtful even.

He looked at you as if you were being ridiculous.

"Of course, I will. And I count on you to call me too. We're friends, right?"

"Yeah, we're friends. And us being friends… does that mean that I get like… a first glance to your future masterpieces or something?"

Harry replied with a bright wave of laughter.

"Haa… I get it now! You just want the VIP seats, huh?"

You joined his own laughter.

"I mean… I'm now friend with a singer, it has to mean I get some privileges! You get the bouquets for your girlfriend, I get private concerts and first looks!"

"Private concerts too? What? You want me to start a show right now?"

"I wouldn't say no…"

"I'm dressed for the occasion, clearly," he answered while dramatically pulling up his hoodie, making you double with laughter.

You were laughing so hard your stomach was aching and your lungs burnt. It was far from a rare occurrence these days though. You guessed it was just an effect Harry had on you, or perhaps on everyone, you weren't sure of that part yet, it didn't matter though.

Harry too was holding his stomach, your laugh was too contagious for him to stop.

Once you had eventually calmed down, you guided the conversation towards a more serious tone again.

"How did Jessica take the news of you leaving though?" you asked, and Harry heaved a sigh.

"Probably as you expect her to."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah… I don't know, she's been giving me the silent treatment for the past two days."

"She's just sad, she's gonna be missing her boyfriend."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting a little tired of it all, to be honest."

"Of it all?" you repeated. "What do you mean?"

He didn't answer, and placed his letters on the board instead. You were used to it by now though. Harry was a rather quiet person in general, and he often fell silent when he felt uneasy or sad.

You had learnt not to push, learnt to simply wait for him to answer or choose to skip to another, completely different subject. You let silence fill the room, the clapping of the rain on the roof and against the windows playing a timeless melody.

He didn't dodge the question though. Simply took his time to think of his answer, weight his options: should he tell you or not?

"She doesn't like us spending so much time together. She's a bit jealous, I think."

Your head shot up from the board to his eyes, but Harry was writing his score on a piece of paper, and deliberately avoiding your gaze.

"Oh," you let out. "Would that help if I talked to her? Tell her she has nothing to worry about?"

He shook his head.

"No, no… I'm… I try to reassure her, she's not convinced. If I can understand jealousy to a certain extent, I can't seem to shake the thought off her head, and I'm getting a bit tired of it."

You nodded, your movement slow and reluctant.

"Would it be better if we spent less time together."

But Harry frowned hard.

"Why would we do that? You… you want to do that? You… think we're spending too much time together?"

"No, no! I… I don't want to, I'm glad to have you as a friend. But… maybe it could help you and Jessica…"

"I'm not going to be sorry for the friends I care about, and I'm not going to yield over some stupid nonsense and lose a friend."

"She's your girlfriend."

"Yeah, and she should trust me when I tell her that there's nothing between you and me, and we're just friends, and that I would never cheat on her, period," he went on, his voice getting angrier.

"What are you going to do about it then?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "There isn't much I can do. She chooses not to believe me."

"And I'm guessing that you going away is not making things easier between the two of you…"

"Not exactly."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you can pull it through with her."

"Yeah… I hope so too. But what about you?" he finally chose to change the topic and to redirect the conversation towards you. "Anything you? Anyone new?"

"Nothing new about me. And nobody new either," you answered with a chuckle. "I'm just thinking about what kind of treats I could ask my friend to send me from England as he goes away."

Harry's laugh was finally lighting up the room again, and it felt right. You reckoned that it was exactly how things ought to be: Harry laughing on a rainy afternoon in a room that smelled like cocoa. How could there be anything more reassuring and soothing in the world?

**************************************

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