We’re sitting in the car at the McDonald’s drive-thru because I refused to let you cook tonight after what happened last time with the burnt pasta. You’re in the passenger seat scrolling on your phone while I lean out the window to order.

“Hi, can I get twenty chicken nuggets, a large fries, and… babe, what do you want?” I glance at you.

You shrug. “Just chips.”

“Another large fries, please,” I say, nodding to myself before adding impulsively, “And a strawberry milkshake.”

“That’s everything,” the voice crackles, giving me the total.

We pull up to the window and the girl working there does a double take when she sees me. Her eyes go wide, and I can tell she’s trying to keep it together as she hands me the card machine.

“You… you look like Harry Styles,” she blurts out, cheeks flushing.

I glance at you quickly, smirking. “Yeah? D’you think so?”

She nods vigorously. “Yeah, like… exactly like him.”

You’re covering your mouth to hide your laugh as I swipe my card. The girl hands back the machine, still staring in awe.

“You could be his twin,” she says again.

I grin at her as I take the receipt. “Thanks, love. I’ll tell him you said that.”