Fiction: You’re So Golden

Read More: A Q&A with Shayla Frandsen

My new Harry Styles arrived in the mail today. He is as beautiful as the others.

I didn’t expect anything different, of course, but the sight of him still makes me want to slip onto my loveseat like I’m watching a documentary about the ocean. A new Harry is still a special occasion. An event. I’ll never recover from the striking green of his eyes, those full lips, that smirk of mischief he’s had since his earliest days in One Direction and in all the music videos, too.

Tenth Harry seems to get along with the others, which is a good sign. The one I ordered six months ago didn’t take so well at first. A few hours after he arrived, he started bickering with my very first Harry—I call him Alpha Harry when we’re alone together, he’s the one I insist stay clean-shaven—over the shrimp cocktail. Soon the bickering turned into shouting, and I was so surprised that for several moments all I could do was stare. Normally, Alpha Harry is as gentle and tender as a toddler.

The two Harrys were shouting and swearing about who got the last shrimp and I dripped sauce onto my new dress in the pandemonium. New Harry shoved Alpha Harry and the others had to separate them, but then some of them started pushing each other, too. I soaked the dress and went to bed by myself. Ignored their knocks at my locked door. I love you, I could hear them say. I’ll be good. I love you. I was so mad at all of them.

Usually my Harrys get along very well. I can shop or sleep in and they’ll stay put all day long. The morning after the fight, I called CloneStar. The technician they sent walked with the spatty Harry into the back of his service truck. Forty-five minutes later the two of them emerged, chuckling like two dads catching up at a barbecue.

I know what you’re thinking. Is there sex and if so, how is it? […]

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