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Flawlesshomosexuals

@flawlesshomosexuals-blog / flawlesshomosexuals-blog.tumblr.com

Asher Lee I like Louis. I like Harry. I like HarryandLouis 'dream team'
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A week after the interview, I’m eating lunch in a cafe near my home when someone taps me on the shoulder: Harry. He’s at a table across the room – do I want to join? We talk about the interview, how absurdly hot it was under the lights. He mentions playing five-a-side the night before and we trade stories about the first football matches we went to see. Harry says it was the only place his dad would let him swear – a little six-year-old Styles, gleefully doing “wanker” signs at the opposition fans. It’s a nice chat. Harry’s Nice. A reminder that he’s one of the most famous men in the world comes when a dude slinks over, cameraphone already out, and does the routine: “You know, you look familiar… Aren’t you in that band? One…” He asks for a photograph, so he can send it to his ex-girlfriend. “I want to make her jealous.” I ask Harry how often that happens. How many selfies in his lifetime, a rough figure. The drawl is perfect for his answer. “More times,” Harry says, “than anyone could count.” We say goodbye.

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