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She did keep in touch, like she’d promised.
He’d half expected them to return to dead silence after she’d left his house that morning. That was always what happened with the two of them. Like, the pressure of speaking to each other was just too much to carry.
Taylor sends a joke here, or a song recommendation there. Not much further than that; but it was more than before, and they could carry out a semblance of friendship.
So, that mid-morning, when Harry slowly blinked his eyes open and reached for his phone to check the time, he was only half surprised to find a text from Taylor. There was no context outside of the link she’d sent him; and he rubbed the sleepiness out of his eyes as he clicked it and it redirected him to a recipe. He chuckled and exited out of the page, fixing to text her back.
Text to: Taylor Swift
> oh you think you’re funny
> who gassed you ??
He laughed again and locked his phone, contemplating a shower. He’d been out the previous night, and just collapsed in his bed when he got home, leaving him feeling gross and sticky. Taylor had messaged him over two hours ago, and he didn’t expect her response to buzz in his hand as he carried his phone into the bathroom with him.
Text from: Taylor Swift
> What, the guy who makes spinach brownies isn’t interested in zucchini cookies?
He rolled his eyes and quickly shot back a “you just wouldn’t get it” complete with a sad emoji, and cracked on with his morning routine, picking his toothbrush out of its holder and pressing play on a podcast to listen to while he got ready.
It was almost half an hour later when he got the notification that she’d liked his message, and he assumed that was that. He and Taylor spoke, but it didn’t happen particularly often or go on for very long. He was surprised to receive the follow up text of, “BTW, I saw you out yesterday! I didn’t know you were in town.”
He didn’t know she was either. And he really didn’t know where she had seen him yesterday that he hadn’t noticed being noticed. Sure, the bars that he’d been at most of the night with his friend was dark and loud, but he was sure he’d have realized she was there. When Taylor arrived anywhere, she floated into the room on a cloud, and eyes gravitated to her – she had an insane aura that caused everyone’s eyes to snap immediately towards her and had people buzzing with excitement. He wouldn’t have missed her. Harry had acknowledged that were some pretty girls out with him last night – but none of them were her.
Taylor stared at her phone after she’d pressed send. She doesn’t know why she sent that, really. He’d been stepping into the back seat of a waiting car when she happened to pass by in her own dark-tinted Mercedes. It was barely “seeing him” when it was only a glimpse. However unexpected.
But she felt like she had to share the serendipity, and she knew Harry would understand. But when he didn’t reply for almost an hour, she stopped jumping at every notification that came through, and got busy with some baking she had planned on doing. That was what she was planning on doing when she’d found the recipe that she’d sent to Harry that morning.
Harry, freshly showered and fully dressed in his outfit of choice for the day – a bright, colourful jumper, jeans, and a pair of matching rainbow Nikes – finally opened up their conversation, after mulling over it for most of his morning.
Text to: Taylor Swift
> sorry, i was just in the shower
> where did you see me?
She was in town. The idea of being close-by and not seeing her felt like he was wasting an opportunity, and Harry barely let himself think before adding:
> got a new place not far from yours tbf. you wanna come over?
They hadn’t seen each other in person since that day they’d fallen asleep on Harry’s couch and certainly hadn’t made plans to see each other since they had been seeing each other. And that was years ago. Friends made plans together, right?
Taylor jumped a little at the text tone as she pulled a piping hot cookie sheet out of the oven, and almost burnt her hand at the surprise of the sound, and at having to step over a cat walking in between her legs.
She unlocked her phone. He hadn’t texted back in over an hour while he was supposedly in the shower and she blushed a little, her mind wondering to all the things they used to do in the shower. And the things she’d caught him doing alone in there a few times.
Text to: Harry S.
> Long shower...
She chuckled to herself, adding a winking face. Taylor was never going to pass up an opportunity to tease Harry. She hadn’t expected for him to invite her over, though. While she didn’t have any particular plans that day, she still dithered over her next text.
“What do you think Benj?” she cooed, “should I go see Harry, hmm?”
Her littlest cat stalked off around the corner, not even acknowledging her. She smiled.
Text to: Harry S.
> Of course. Send me your address.
Harry, it turned out, lived less than fifteen minutes from her New York apartment, which was wonderfully poetic – and she was gonna be sure to make fun of him for that one. It was most probably a coincidence, but she wasn’t going to let the truth get in the way of a good joke. It was quiet out front, and he buzzed her in without anyone spotting her. Not that many people spotted her all that much these days.
Once out of the elevator, she only had to wait a few moments before he opened the door with a stupid grin on his face – and she couldn’t help but plaster a stupid smile on hers. Harry just made her feel so exhilarated – by simply being.
“Nice shoes,” she began, looking down at how boring her own plain white Nikes looked next to his. He was always the more lively one. He thanked her bashfully and led her into his place.
“Did you move recently?” she asked, looking around the large open plan living space and dropping her purse on a beautiful leather barstool at his kitchen island. Harry’s apartment was beautifully decorated, with contemporary furniture and plants and patterned rugs and knick-knacks everywhere. The kitchen was on the left of where she’d entered, with a dining area on the right of them and the living space with comfy looking couches, a massive television, and a corner with some musical instruments in front of a large floor to ceiling window. It bathed the room in wonderful mid-afternoon light and Taylor could imagine the view was insane.
She could hear music playing softly in the background and she smiled when she identified it as Dave’s new album. Being a Londoner for most of the year had its perks, she supposed.
“This is like, a proper place Harry,” she mused, turning to where he had disappeared into the kitchen to fetch them something to drink.
“Yeah. I’m a big boy now,” he said, joking, but with a genuine sadness somewhere in his eyes. He sometimes yearned for his younger years back. At times like these, Taylor was genuinely surprised when she recalled what he was like when their paths had first crossed. The gangly long-haired kid who seemed a little too confident for this own good. He was a man now. And she was in her thirties. And yet, here they were, still orbiting around each other like they were fucking teenagers.
Luckily, at this point, both Harry and Taylor had become experts in dancing around their past feelings and what might or might not still be there. When they crashed on one of the couches, beers in hand, Harry asked how she was, and she answered truthfully.
“I’m good, Harry,” she admitted, and added, after a slight pause, “really happy.”
She’d just been in London; spending a blissful couple of weeks with Joe while he was off from work – long drives in the countryside, spending afternoons getting lost in department stores and going to pubs to watch the football. She’d had a good time and felt refreshed returning to New York for some of her own work.
She was Happy and Harry knew her boyfriend was a huge part of that, so he couldn’t help that pang of jealousy he always felt. Yes, of course, he knew he had no right, and that they were friends. He knew all that. Harry just struggled not to turn into a jealous little green-eyed monster sometimes.
Their friendship was still tentative at times – which was understandable after all that had happened and not happened and almost happened between the two of them. It was mostly like old times, but also so different from when they had been dating. And messing around. And that other time they were messing around. And then messing up.
Harry sighed and tried to hide what he was thinking of from Taylor, but she knew him too well.
“Don’t look so hurt,” she smiled at him teasingly, and he grunted, taking a sip from his drink. “Did you think I was here to take you back?” she giggled, and Harry rolled his eyes, angling his position so he was facing her on the couch.
“No,” she smiled coyly, “I respect myself now, Taylor. I’m no longer a booty-call,” he announced proudly.
“Oh, look who’s grown some self-esteem!”
“It was about time. Plus, it‘s not hard when you look like I do,” Harry added smugly.
“Oh, is that right?” Taylor pretended to squint and study his face.
“Do I need to come closer so you can see a bit better, blindy?” he retorted, and that earned him a slap on the shoulder.
And just like that, they were back in that safe, warm place where they bloomed and pretended that friends looked at each other like that. Where they didn’t have to sidestep their romantic feelings for each other – instead just sat with them in proximity and never acted on them. They could get caught up in each other’s presence so easily that it was almost second nature. In this place, their chemistry and potential to be best friends was the most obvious.
They reminisced on their movie night as they mused about what they might want to watch today. They didn’t acknowledge how they’d woken up together the last time, even though Harry had thought about it, more than once. Often late at night in bed when he was deep in his feelings. That was a regular occurrence these days. He often wondered what life would be like if Taylor was his to kiss good morning whenever he wished, and how it would feel to live with her and enjoy this warm comforting energy that currently enveloped the two of them every single day.
He had been spotted with another actress in the past week, but he knew it wasn’t really going anywhere. The other day Harry had FaceTimed with Kendall, but he also knew that wasn’t going anywhere. It never did with Kendall. He silently cursed Taylor very often for ruining him. Nothing he had felt for anyone else was ever coming close to what he felt for her. That all-consuming, addictive, passionate shit wasn’t easy to find with anyone else.
“You sure you don’t fancy getting back together?” he let slip, only half-joking.
Taylor laughed. She could tell Harry was a little out of it and a bit emotional. She got like that about their relationship too. Not that often these days, though. He was glad she didn’t get annoyed when he was being silly like this. “I’m very sure, Harry,” she pinched his cheek between her fingers, “Thanks for the offer. Again.”
Harry scowled and shrugged, as if to say, “Can’t blame me for trying.” He downed the rest of his beer.
“I really love him,” Taylor said after a small lull, with the music streaming softly from Harry’s phone the only sound in the room.
Harry knew this. But it didn’t stop the words from hitting him square in the chest as she said them. It hurt every time. Because Harry really loved her. Of course, she loved her boyfriend. They’d been together for a stupid amount of time now, but he hated hearing it. He dreaded to find out what he’d do when they eventually got engaged.
Maybe he’d finally move on.
They needed to close that chapter at some point, instead of sitting with their legs dangling at the edge of the chasm of their feelings every few of months, as they cosplayed friendship. Teetering on the edge of being friends and being something more was a tough balancing act sometimes, and he wanted to let go, and just love her. But he had a feeling Taylor wouldn’t ever love him like that again. Not in the way he did her. Not any time soon.
“I know you do, Taylor.” He met her eyes, the sadness in his, unmistakable. “I’m so happy for you,” he lied. “You deserve to be happy,” that part was true. Harry was, indeed, a big boy, and he liked to think he was mature but, fuck. He didn’t want her to be happy without him.
Taylor mirrored his sad demeanor and sighed, “You deserve to be happy, too, H. I want that for you. For us both. We deserve to be happy, even if we couldn’t manage it between the two of us.”
“Yeah, well.” He shrugged, contemplating another beer, and trying not to sulk like he was prone to doing. Alcohol and thinking about Taylor had never been a good combination for him.
Taylor was quiet and then poked, “You’d do well in the girlfriend hunt by trying to find someone who doesn’t look like me?”
“I just have a type innit,” he snapped playfully.
“Yeah. Me,” Taylor was giggling again. They seemed to be going round in circles today – neither of them quite willing to talk about something else.
“Exactly.” Harry deadpanned. “I can’t wait for when we’re old and like, 46 and no one cares about us. So, I can finally get you back, after your divorce.”
“Oh my God—”
“I’m sorry. Second divorce,” Harry clarified.
“Watch it, you’re getting cheeky,” Taylor warned him.
“I’ve always wanted to do a marriage pact, to be honest,” Harry said, gesturing to her to join him in the kitchen as he retrieved another beer from the fridge. She perched on the countertop while he rummaged in the cabinets.
“Of course, you have,” Taylor rolled her eyes, “Which is what? Like, if we both reach a certain age and we’re still single, we just go fuck it?”
Harry beamed. “Yeah, we go fuck it,” Harry chuckled. He’d offered her something to eat but they ended up ordering a pizza so as to not drink on empty stomachs. Harry’s mood lifted a little at the minuscule hope. He’d quite like to get married to Taylor, he thought briefly.
“Well, we could never set the date any time soon,” she thought aloud, after they’d settled back on the couch with their full drinks, “I’m already thirty and no divorces in sight.”
“Don’t worry about that one,” Harry winked and brought his lips to his bottle, taking a sip. “I love older women.”
“Oh, fuck right off,” Taylor grabbed a nearby cushion with her free hand and hit him upside the head with it. She was somewhat comfortable with her age, but all these young men around her knew which buttons to push when teasing her about it.
“So, no marriage pact then?” Harry grabbed the cushion from her and held it threateningly in the air.
Taylor was already ducking away from his raised pillow, “I’ll think about it!” she laughed.
He lowered his arm and put the pillow down as his phone dinged to indicate their lunch had arrived. “I was made to agree under duress,” she muttered as he made his way to the door.
“Yeah, as if. You’re Miss we-come-back-every-time. We’ll be back one day,” he winked.