“Harry, mate, have you seen this?” Mark asks me with a laugh, leaning over the couch to show me something on his phone. I’m with a group of friends and we’re just hanging out at his place in LA while I’m here for the weekend.

I chuckle and take a sip of my drink, leaning closer with a curious look to watch the video playing on his phone, quickly noticing the millions of likes it has. There’s an interviewer standing on a sidewalk interviewing people who pass by, and he stops a girl on the street. “Excuse me, who’s your favorite rapper?” he asks, holding his microphone out. You glance between him and the camera, almost sheepishly, before speaking. “I don’t really like rappers, I like Harry Styles,” you shrug.

Mark pulls his phone away, him and the rest of my friends cackling like hyenas. “What you laughing about?” I chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “The girl likes Harry Styles,” I shrug, grinning smugly.