#1dff updates

But finally it was Sunday and it was my day off. A part of me wanted to go back to my nans house, stop in and say hi. Then I remembered Sunday’s were her brunch and bingo days and she went out with all her cute old lady friends. I was starting to feel extremely lonely.

So I was left to myself in my little cottage. It was pretty relaxing, but all the time cooped up in here was becoming boring and repetitive. And to think I had 4 months left of this. Just sitting in my bed scrolling through shopping sites putting tons of clothes in a cart I’d never get around to purchasing. Even being payed around the clock wasn’t enough to buy a whole new wardrobe.

So yes, I was starting to get a little antsy that I heard nothing from Harry or Jeff. I sneakily biked by Harry’s cottage multiple times to see if he was still there throughout the two days, and his car was still parked in the driveway each time. I hadn’t seen him even around the premises at all doing anything. Or anyone from his group for that matter. I tried to tell myself by the end of the first day that they were all just super hungover. I knew that was a stretch but it eased my mind. Then yesterday rolled around and I had no comforting excuses for why I hadn’t heard from them.

I expressed my worry to Eve and she insisted that they were probably just getting settled. Okay, I’ll take that. That’s got to be it, right?

As I continued to worry in my head about what may have gone wrong I reached for my phone. Nope, no messages. Fuck. This was quickly becoming a bad habit, constantly checking my phone. Bravely I pressed Jeff’s contact, hovering my thumb over the call option. Should I try to reach out? Eh. Sighing, I locked the phone and tossed it to my side. If they needed me, they would act on it. I didn’t want to be a nuisance and bother any of them.

Focusing my attention back on my laptop I popped open a new tab on my Safari browser. I began typing his name, enter and then search.

Instantly an endless amount of brand new and just days old articles displayed across my screen. Harry Styles this, Harry Styles that. There was one recurring theme throughout all of these article titles though, a girls name - Camille.

“Camille Rowe, ex lover of musician Harry Styles states that he’s ‘overly jealous and begged her to stay when they broke up!’ Oh no, poor H. Read more here.”

“Apparently Harry Styles is a Freak in the Sheets! Ex Girlfriend Camille Rowe recollects on her sex life with the pop star in her new book ’Truth Be Told.’”

“Feeling bad about getting cheated on? Don’t feel bad,Harry Styles has been in your shoes too...his ex girlfriend opens up about the mistakes she made that ultimately led to the lyrics of Harry’s sophomore album, Fine Line.”

I couldn’t help but let out a gasp, all this couldn’t be true, could it? I exited out of the tab quickly, afraid to go on and read more of those terrible headlines. I honestly felt bad if all that was true, and if Harry’s ex girlfriend really did that, then I could only imagine how he might be feeling.

I could tell Harry really valued his privacy, why else would he be out here in the middle of nowhere in complete hiding? I thought back to him telling me how he had a disdain for California, I was now beginning to think she had some sort of connection to it. Poor Harry. Almost instantly I was feeling guilty, like I invaded Harry’s privacy by seeing all of those headlines. Imagining what the whole world most think and know of him right now is extremely unsettling. To bring up how he has sex and his most vulnerable moments and just like everyone know about it, it’s beyond fucked up.

Ting.

The world has a funny way of working making connections sometimes. Deep down in my gut I had a feeling it’d be Harry or Jeff who left me a text, it just had to be. Before I even reached my phone I saw the capital H, I knew it was Harry. Of course, he was texting me now, after I saw all that and felt so fucking bad. If he was any other person I’d ask if he wanted to have a nice chat, bring over some ice cream and wine and help him relax.

I wasn’t slow to swipe up on the message and see what he wrote.

‘Hiiiii Colette. Hope you’re well, it’s Harry. Have a huge favor to ask you whenever you get the chance. X”

Hah, he’s acting me for a favor as if I’m not getting paid to help him with whatever he needs. He’s too nice. I didn’t hesitate to start typing back.

‘Hi, Harry! How are you? I’ve been just well! As for the favor...sure anything :)”

Not even five seconds later my phone was vibrating and ringing at the same time, Harry’s name flashing across the screen. Ah, so he’s one of those people who have to make phone calls for everything. My hands felt like jelly as I went to accept the call. Even though we had a great night, him not talking to me for a couple days made me rethink how great that night might’ve actually been. Maybe I was just super tipsy and thought it was amazing when it was just subpar.

“Hello?” I chimed, placing the phone to my ear.

His deep Americanized-British accent greeted me, “Morning Colette!” He sounded extra chirpy this morning.

“Harry! Haven’t heard from you in a while..” I replied nervously.

There was a small pause. “Sorry ‘bout that just keeping busy and what not. I meant to text but, I was so preoccupied I forgot. ‘M sorry, won’t pull something like that again.”

My heart felt like it was being squeezed, my intention was never to make him feel bad but I could sense that I did. I wondered how stressful it was on him always being so kind to everyone, literally everyone. At all times of the day.  I had a feeling that most of the time he was putting on an act when deep down he was just having real human problems that he had to keep tucked away.

“Don’t apologize,” I rushed. “It’s fine, seriously. What’s up?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” He joked. I could hear his soft chuckle from the other line. “Sunday’s.”

“The most relaxing day,” I noted, it was true.

“Relaxing enough where I feel like I should take some time and start a book.”

Oh, fuck. There wasn’t much enthusiasm in his voice anymore. I had a feeling I knew where all of this was heading, and I didn’t like it.

“Any day is a great day to start a book,” I suggested trying to hide my nerves. The universe really was one giant head fuck.

“Actually the favor I was going to ask you,” Harry drawled, a slight tinge of hesitation is his voice. “I really want this specific book.”

Yep, this was his heading right where I thought it would.

“Ooo which one?” I questioned excitedly, like I didn’t know. I was really hoping he’d take me by surprise and say that new Twilight book or something.

“It’s called Truth Be Told. Actually, bet it’s sold out everywhere. Can’t even Amazon fuckin’ Prime it.” He laughed. Maybe he was taking this a lot lighter than I thought...?

“Y’ know what. I don’t need it. Um, do you have any book recs?” Harry rushed.

“If you want that book I’ll go out in town and look for it, but if not I do have some recommendations,” I offered.

“Okay, how ‘bout this? I’ll lend you my car and could you get me that uh, Truth book or whatever and also, get me a book you recommend for me and I have one I recommend for you.”

“You trust me in your car? I just only started to learn to drive on the opposite side of the road,” I admitted with a smile, not like he could see it.

“If ya crash my car, I wouldn’t even try coming back...avoid the wrath of Harry Styles at all costs,” He countered.

“Uh-oh I’m scared,” I fake gasped.

“Hm, should be. I’m not like the papers say, ‘m actually a real diva.”

I was starting to really like this conversation.

“A lot of work, huh?”

“You think you can handle it?”

It’s like I could hear his smirk through the phone. This conversation went really, might I say flirtatious, really fast. I knew it was just his personality and I shouldn’t over think it. But if there is one thing I loved in life, it was a good flirt. And Harry, he was good at it.

I must have been zoned out for a moment because I heard Harry awkwardly clear his throat when I didn’t reply back to his flirtatious line.

“So ‘m gonna pick you up actually. We’ll go back to mine and then you can head off to get those books? Sound good?” He spoke into the line.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“See ya soon.”

With a click, the call was finished. As much as I wanted to sit back and recollect on what the fuck went down in that call I knew I needed to get out of bed and make myself presentable. He didn’t give me an ETA so I assumed I didn’t have much time on the clock.

I ran to my overflowing duffle, with all the time on my hands I really needed to get around to unpacking it. Was it bad that I wanted to try to look a little more dressed up than just jeans and a tee?

Yep, it was probably bad because I shouldn’t care how I look in front of him.

“Ugh!” I exclaimed, rummaging through all the wrinkled clothing. I settled on black jeans and a black blouse. It looked a bit funeral-esque, I’m hoping it came off as chic. I’d look like a rag doll next to him anyway, the least I could do was try.

He really wanted to go and get his ex girlfriend’s book, huh? I don’t know why he’d want to do that to himself, either way I was going to play dumb as rocks when he gave me the list of the name and author of the book. It’s not entirely an act though, I just read a few headlines. Correction, I just google searched his name and scrolled throw a bunch of headlines about how you have sex and cry — how terrible that would sound if he knew it was true. I will be taking that one to the grave with me.

I swore not even 5 minutes had passed by and the purring of Harry’s engine was already echoing through my house. He was only up the hill after all, but he gave me absolutely zero time to fix myself up. I just had to suck it up and go out there with my frizzy hair and oily skin and tough it out.

But that wasn’t even my biggest concern, my biggest concern was the fact I, a shit driver in the first place, was now being trusted to drive Harry’s extremely fancy Range Rover to a book store of some sorts somewhere. As soon as we traded off the car my plan was to start Google mapping a place and praying that it was close. The quicker I’m in and out of that vehicle, the better.

My phone pinged.

Harry.

“Should’ve gone to the bathroom before I left. Can I come in for a quick wee? X”

I just couldn’t get a break, my bathroom was cluttered with skincare products and dirty clothes piling on the side. I ran to the bathroom swiping up the dirty clothes and tossing them in an empty drawer in the dresser. He’ll just have to excuse all my beauty products, I didn’t want to keep him waiting too long.

“Come in!!!” I texted him back.

The sound of a car door slam was almost instantly followed by a polite knock at my door. Although the cottages were spread far apart I rushed over to the door, not wanting him to stay outside too long, afraid he might get noticed.

I peered through the peephole and was blessed by the handsome looks of Harry. He was tapping his foot against the cobblestone, the hood of his Nike rain jacket pulled over his head completely, while his hair was covered by a black beanie. Even being so covered up he was still so good looking. I opened the door for him, allowing him inside.

“Hi there,” He grinned as I welcomed him in. I’d love to chat but ‘m actually bout to wee my pants. Give me a moment please.”

Harry then fast walked his way over to the bathroom, obviously familiar with the floor plan. He must’ve stayed in one of the smaller cottages before. The smell of his heavenly cologne suffocated the room instantly. I knew I’d still be smelling it lingering in the air even later on tonight.

All the rushing to get ready and let him in, I wasn’t even focused on my stomach which was knotting like crazy. It felt like it could explode from nerves at just any minute. I don’t remember ever feeling this nervous when I had to see him. Granted I’ve only seen him those two times, but I played it off so cool then. I think I was just working myself up over nothing right now.

I heard the sound of running water and momentarily the steps of his shoes making their way back over to me.

“Can we redo the greeting?” He questioned with a big smile.

“Ok..”

“No, ‘m actually just going to pop outside, knock again and everything,” Harry insisted seriously.

“I’ll pretend like you didn’t just rush to the bathroom like a toddler who hasn’t gone to the bathroom all day,” I agreed, going along with his little act.

“Great.”

Harry popped open the front door, shutting it behind him and going back into the hazy morning air, doing a quick spin before making contact with the door once again.

Knock.

I couldn’t help but giggle as I opened up the door for him the second time.

“Morning Colette, how are ya doing on this fine September morning?” Harry asked me extra cheerily, creeping in for a hug. I embraced him back, the scent of his cologne engulfing my senses once again.

“Doing just fine Mr. Styles. Could I offer you some tea?” I asked in a proper tone, putting on my best imitation of a British accent.

Harry rolled his eyes, breaking the act...”That’s the best you got? You’ve only bloody been staying in England for a whole month.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked appalled.

“Terrible.”

“Better luck next time.” I sighed jokingly.

“Don’t even try. I like your voice just how it is naturally, anyway,” He spoke honestly. The second it left his mouth he too looked taken aback at the compliment he had just thrown at me.

“Want to go get those books?” I suggested awkwardly, dismissing his compliment and changing the topic. Back to business.

Harry seemed surprised by how I brushed it off and maybe even a little embarrassed, his finger began fiddling with his bottom lip. I was starting to pick up that was a little thing he did when he was nervous.

“The books. How could I forget,” He replied dully.

“If i’m being honest I don’t even know where a book store is around here,” I huffed.

“I do,” He smirked.

“Well that’s no help considering I’m going by myself,” I rolled my eyes back at him playfully.

Harry was leaning his body weight on the wooden table by the entrance, a huge smirk painted on his face.

“Guess you’re outta luck then.”

“Would it be bad if I asked for you to come with and guide me?” I asked bravely. I was taking myself by surprise with how upfront I was being towards him. It was just so hard not to be when he was just so normal.

His face dropped a little. I couldn’t tell what sort of reaction he was feeling towards my question but he looked upset. I instantly regretted it because I know my request was about to be rejected.

“As much as I’d love to...” Harry began. “I can’t.”

“Stupid of me to ask,” I replied casually brushing it off. I wanted to change the topic.

“No, it’s not. Maybe I’m better off ordering books online, anyways.”

“I mean, I could still, go get it for you. Something to do.”

Harry brushed it off, shoving his hands in his sweat pockets. “Nope, don’t want you to anymore..the ratings weren’t even that good.”

Oh wow, Harry has some pettiness in him. I couldn’t blame him though. I think anybody else would feel the same way. I wanted to just reach out and tell him I knew why he wanted that book, and that it’s not even worth a bother. I really felt for him. I too had a bad ex, as we typically all do. I can’t say it was as bad as Harry’s past relationship, but mine was bad in it’s own unique way.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled before turning his gaze back towards me. “Let’s go get them books.”

I was surprised, “Really?”

“I hate to do this and act like a macho pop star  but ‘m really gonna have to go incognito. Can’t even step out the car with ya unfortunately, but I’ll drive us.”

My heart warmed at his offer, I knew he was probably going against what his strict hiding rules were in order to go through with this. If he was just driving a heavily tinted car though, was there still a way for paparazzi to notice him? I was excited, I think he could tell because he let out a small giggle, shaking his head.

“Let’s hit the road then!” I exclaimed.

“After you,” He grinned, holding the door open in front of me and leading me to his car.

_________________

The ride with Harry was going well. He had a incognito get up of sunglasses, a beanie and his hood up, making sure there was no way someone could detect it was him. His car smelled like fresh leather and mint, there was an abundance of chewing gum packets stashed in the front compartment of his car along with miscellaneous receipts. Lucky for the both of us, the roads were almost completely clear and there was no traffic heading into town.

Harry was just as attractive looking while driving as I thought he would be. To be fair there was something so enticing about having any guy drive all manly and taking control. But especially Harry driving was a beautiful sight to see. The background music of the radio was humming in the background as the two of us chatted along casually.

“How are you going to recommend me a book if you can’t even come in?” I questioned him.

He turned to me, “Who said I’m not coming in?”

“You did!”

“Might just be your lucky day then,” He smirked. “Do you have a good recommendation in mind for me? Shall we surprise one another?”

I nodded my head, “Sounds like a plan.”

“No soppy romantic books, please,” He scoffed.

“But those are my favorites!”

“Don’t care. I’ve probably read all the best of them anyways,” Harry argued back, a huge smirk painted on his face.

Deep down I knew already which book I was going to pick out for him if it was there. I didn’t care if it was a romantic one or not because I had a feeling he hadn’t read it yet and I had an ever greater feeling that he’d fall in love with it.

The two of us went back and forth chatting to each other another until we began to reach a cobblestone path that led to a small selection of shops. The plaza was secluded and had just a few small buildings overgrown with ivy unevenly placed amongst one another. I’d say there was a max of 5 or 6 cars in the whole parking lot. To be fair, we were pretty far out of town I’d say we had been driving for at least 20 minutes.

“You ready?” He questioned. I could tell there was a hint of nerves in his voice. He was awkwardly fiddling with his wallet and pushing his hood down. He was now just left with his oversized black beanies and sunglasses as his ‘disguise.’

“Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to,” I insisted earnestly. I didn’t want to push him to be in a situation that could get messy really quick.

“I’ll be fine here,” Harry reasoned, turning his gaze to the entrance of a little shop by the name of ‘Greg’s Books and More.’

“If anything goes bad, it wasn’t my fault!”

I didn’t want to be responsible for anything that might ensue, after all Harry was the one who insisted to walk in the shop with me. I had a good feeling that we’d be set though, there was literally nobody around and we were far from any major city with large amounts of people.

The two of us hopped out simultaneously shutting the car doors together. Walking side by side with him in the bright daylight made me more aware of the height difference between us, one I had barely ever noticed before. His single strides were equivalent to almost double mine and his shoulders were just a slight amount higher than my eye level.

“Good morning!” A sweet old man, short and stout greeted us from behind a counter of the shop. Harry and I both waved back.

“Morning sir, how are ya doing today?” Harry asked kindly, stopping short to stand and talk to the man.

“Just having a cuppa, enjoying the Sunday,” The man replied. “Let me know if you two kids have any questions.”

I shot the man another small smile before turning to Harry. “May the best book picker win?” I joked.

“You’ve got 10 minutes.”

“1...2..” I began counting down, but before I could even reach the number three, Harry was already rushing to the rows of books, an agenda already on his mind. He seemed so confident in what he was going to pick that I soon began to re think what I was going to choose for his book.

I hurriedly rushed to the other side of the bookstore, scanning the shelves with my eyes. The shop was small and I could hear Harry rummaging through shelves on the opppsite side. I had 10 minutes to find the book I had in mind, something I loved that I wanted to pass on to Harry.

The thought of trading off books to someone who a very intimate gesture, an invitation to be apart of another’s brain. I still couldn’t believe I was here right now with Harry Styles, a now friend, spending my Sunday out and about the town. I knew it was my day off but I knew when I arrived back to my cottage I’d want to inform Eve.

As my eyes panned over the endless covers and names of authors and titles a familiar bright blue and green cover popped up. Ah, I knew what this was. Before I had even fully removed it from the shelf, the yellow cursive script was already showing.

Love is a Mix Tape.

Given his career in music I knew right away this would be the perfect book for him. I had read it months ago, but the impact it left on me remained the same. A story not specifically circled around romance, but hints at the struggles of love and loss. It was funny and a joy to read.

I looked over the book making sure there were no imperfections, torn pages or bent covers. Luckily there was none, I angled it to my side hiding it just in case he’d pop out of of nowhere.

Walking up to the cash register there was no sign of him, he was probably still amongst the jungle of books so I took this as my invitation to check out.

“Hi,” I chirped to the old man who sat behind the desk, his glasses almost falling off his face as he read through the book in front of him.

“Hello there love, you all set?” He asked, walking over to the vintage-like cash register.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” I put the book down between us already beginning to reach in my purse for my wallet. I really hoped Harry hasn’t read this one yet.

“Can I just give you money to cover both my book and the other customers? Like, pass it on..” I spoke handing the man almost triple the amount of my single book. He looked at me inquisitively and then began to smile.

“I’m sure that young man will appreciate it,” He smiles, a glimmer of knowingness in his eyes.  I knew the gesture was small and i knew money was not a problem for him but I had such an urge to just do it anyways.

I thanked the man as he wrapped up the book and placed it in a brown paper bag, graciously taking it from him. Harry was still amongst the jungle of shelves and I didn’t want to prowl or cause attention so I decided to wait outside the store. The air was fresh and crisp, the sound of chirping birds and whistling trees engulfed my senses. I’m almost sure Harry had reached his 10 minute mark, but I wasn’t going to rush him. I had a feeling it was a rare occurrence for him to be able to aimlessly shop around, crowd free.

“Ya ready?” His voice erupted behind me, the bell of the door pinging in the quiet air. I turned to face him, his paper bag tucked underneath his arm.

“Not really,” I joked, it wasn’t a complete lie though. I wouldn’t mind shopping around with him in little hideaways all day. Harry caught up to me and we began the short walk back to his car in quiet. As my hand began to reach the handle he quickly swooped in front of me, opening it himself. I looked at him with a stupid look on my face, in awe of a gentleman.

“Oh thanks,” I spoke sheepishly.

“My pleasure.”

I hopped in and moments later Harry was back in the drivers seat beside me pressing the car on and pumping up the heat.

“Thanks, by the way.” He gestured to the paper bag.

“Oh, not a problem at all! Random acts of kindness or whatever,” I brushed it off.

“Not used to someone covering the bill,” He admitted. “Not like that type of stuff matters to me.”

“Well don’t even worry about it.”

“I’ll get you back next time,” He noted.

Next time. So there’s going to be a next time? A next time of us going to the book store? A next time of us hanging out? A next time of what?

“Should we swap these books or what?” I questioned, changing the topic once again.

“So eager, huh?” Harry laughed.

“Well we’re just sitting here in a empty parking lot, you have any other suggestions?”

“You’re right,” He quipped. “Here you are then.”

The two of us exchanged the bags. He lifted it to his ear, shaking it as if it was a surprise gift and he was trying to guess what it could be.

“Just get on with it!” I exclaimed.

“Hush, hush.” He began opening it, very carefully, soon revealing the book I had chosen for him.

“Lucky for you, I’ve never read this. Thank you,” He seemed very grateful as he looked over the front cover, going back and forth between the pages quickly. “I’m excited.”

“Thank God,” I huffed. “I was nervous you’d have read it before.”

“Nope, never. You did good,” Harry compliments, his eyes falling back to my unopened bag in my hands. “Now it’s your turn.”

Oh, yeah.

“I hate when people watch me open stuff,” I admitted. My hand was toying with the bag as I looked at him nervously. I didn’t like people watching me because I was afraid that I wouldn’t give off the right reaction to whatever they may have given me. It was too much pressure, and especially Harry watching me so intently it made me nervous.

“Want me to turn away?” He offered earnestly. “I know people like that, my sister.”

“Maybe just like causally look out the car or whatever.”

Immediately he began fiddling with his windshield wipers, intently focusing on them as if they were some sort of puzzle. I wanted to tell him not to use them when it wasn’t raining and it’d damage the car, but I’m sure he knew that. I took that as my queue to quickly unpack-age the book, afraid he might cause damage.

When I opened it up it revealed not one but two books. The one on top made my heart sink, I recognized the title right away. It was his ex girlfriends book. Why would he give this one to me? Should I act like I know what it is and what it’s about? No. Play dumb. Underneath it though, was a book by the name of ‘Betting On The Muse’ by Charles Bakowski. Ah, poetry.

“You done yet slowpoke?” Harry interrupted  my thoughts, the two books sat between my lap.

“You can look,” I complied. “Are they both for me?”

“Yes,” He replied simply. “But, I have some stipulations.”

“This wasn’t a part of the deal.”

“I would like if you read the Bukowski book first. It’s poems, I want you to read them and guess which one is my favorite when you’re finished,” He instructed sweetly. Although there was direction in his tone, it came off so kind. “As for the other one..” He paused and then let out a huff.

“I don’t even want you to touch it,” He continued. “Don’t look it up, reviews, synopsis...anything.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I was confused but I didn’t want to let that on.

“One day, if I give you the ‘ok’ I want you to read it. If you want. You don’t have to listen to me by any means, but yeah,” He finished awkwardly.

“So just hold onto it?” I asked, holding up the Truth Be Told book. His eyes glimpsed down to it before quickly shooting back up to meet my gaze. The cover was what I was assuming to be her, his ex. Her hair was messy, lips full, topless with her arms covering her breasts in shades of black and white.

“Yeah, just hold on to it,” He stated.

“You’ve got my word,” I smiled. I could feel the tension in the car and I didn’t want it anymore. This was supposed to be a lighthearted excursion and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Great, well thank you for the books. I’ll start mine right away,” Harry began as he started the car once again. “You ready to take back off?”

The vacation that Harry and I had planned for after the album was quickly approaching--but the mere thought of it sent a wave of nausea through my stomach that I couldn’t quite ignore. 

Now, he was staring at his phone. His eyes fixated on whatever it was that he typed. A joke to his sister. A message to a friend. I didn’t really care. These days, it felt like his eyes were anywhere but on me. 

“So, everyone will be up at in the hallway for 7am tomorrow?” Their manager looked around the room, waiting for nods of confirmation from all of us--including me. 

Liam was next to me, his arm on the back of the couch as he let out a monotonous ‘yes,’ but then he looked over to me and raised his eyebrows. “A week right?”

“One week,” Harry replied for me, his tone much less enthusiastic than Liam’s. He brought his eyes to mine, offering what seemed to be a hopeful--yet timid--smile. 

But I didn’t know if I’d make it. 

I didn’t know how many more times I could wake up and wonder how to convince him that I was still here--I was still in it. I’d spent years acting on TV and now I didn’t have an ounce of pretending left in me. 

Which is why, later that night, I called Sinead and I called Cara and I told them that I couldn’t do it anymore. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to--it’s that I couldn’t.

Neither of them knew what to say. They wanted me to be happy, but they both felt that my happiness meant a life with Harry by my side. At this point, I disagreed.

NOW  - Day 1834

I sat across from Nick Grimshaw with a microphone in front of my face. It’d been a while. I only had one condition--which Grimmy was happy to hear: don’t ask about the guy from Tennessee. 

Claire and Nick had worked hard to make it blow over. A few photos of me out to dinner with famous friends created a decent buzz that seemed to lessen the blow of my biggest scandal to date. I mean, that’s if you don’t count me disappearing for a year and a half and breaking up with Harry.

But Grimmy was okay with it--such an off-limits question meant that he was free to ask what he wanted about Harry. But he also knew that it meant I was free to answer however I’d like. 

He asked about the album, my decision to drop it with minimal promotion, my time off, my writing process. But it didn’t take him long to get the to key points. 

“So, I mean, let’s face it. You’ve been spotted back with Harry Styles and now you’ve got this new album--with a lot to say on it,” he prompted. 

“Yeah,” I nodded--Sinead watched from her seat from behind a glass window. Nick was standing beside her and Hilary was in the back. 

Harry was a thirty minute drive away, still at home, likely in his pajamas and maybe drinking a cup of tea. I wondered if he was listening. 

He’d begged to tag along but I wasn’t up for dealing with the optics, as Hilary would say. I didn’t have the energy to deal with the questions and the photos and the rumors. There were enough already,

“So is it safe to assume that you and Harry are back together?”

Nick knew the answer--but his listeners didn’t. 

“You know--sometimes people need time apart,” I laughed. “And I think there are songs on this album that really explain where I’ve been and where I am now. So I’m happy to be spending time with Harry and to have had time to reflect on my job and my life.”

“A nice, vague answer from Miss Margot Jones, a classic Friday morning special we’ve got here, folks!”

Everyone in the room laughed, and when I rolled my eyes at Nick, he only egged me on more. “But seriously, we’re all excited that you two are back together--the fans are wild about you both. But this album must have been hard for him to hear.”

I didn’t quite know what to say. Yes. It was. He was mad at points and we talked a lot about it  and there were moments when I feared that it wouldn't work out this time, either. 

I opted for something more concise, a need to defend myself bubbling in my chest as my thoughts became words. “Well, you know, I wanted this album to be honest, if anything. I wanted to explain my side of things and, I mean, he got to tell his side, which wasn’t easy to hear either.”

“What’s that life like? Hearing your significant other’s album and then writing one in response?”

“Exhausting,” I laughed, setting us up for a commercial break. Nick took us out and smiled when he removed his headphones. 

“Can’t hide it for long, love.”

THEN - Day 1155

Harry wasn’t really one to get mad. He never raised his voice or called me names. Instead, he shut down. 

His assistant, Emma, stood by the door, her voice calm and steady as she read over his schedule. She knew that neither of us were listening. I’d asked a question about whether or not I really had to go to one of their events. Harry said yes, I said no. Emma stayed silent. 

Now, as her eyes scanned down her phone and Harry’s seemed to glaze over as he looked out the window, I wondered if now was my moment. 

Emma would leave the room, I could tell Harry that this wasn’t working. I could use this as an example. A simple question, a small disagreement, and we were staring in opposite directions as if our lives depended on it. 

I didn’t know how he expected us to have a whole week together, uninterrupted. Nothing but the beach and the sun to ease the tension. 

After a few more minutes of talking, Emma excused herself and told us she’d be back in 15. I wondered if that was her way of giving us a time limit to whatever was about to explode. 

“What’s wrong with you?” I finally asked--likely the most direct I’d been in months. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He turned around suddenly, his eyes wide with confusion--his phone limp in his hand when he abandoned whatever he’d been staring at. “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been--I dunno--weird for months now.”

“I’m not being weird,” my voice was quieter now. I wasn’t any good at responding to remarks about my mood. I didn’t need him to remind me that something was seriously wrong. I had the aching in my chest to remind me every night. 

“Margot--what is going on between us?” He stood from his spot on the couch and made his way towards me, his pace slowing considerably when he got closer. He looked me up and down, almost as if he didn’t quite recognize me. 

“Nothing, I don’t know,” I lied. He knew it was a lie. 

He was quiet for a moment. 

His eyes were distant and he looked tired. Tired of traveling, of performing, of smiling, of singing, of me. He’d admit all of that. He was weeks away from the end of an era. His band was done. He didn’t know it yet, but we were, too. 

He kept his eyes on the ground, his hands clasped together as if he were about to suggest a company merger. 

“Margot, I love you, and I want to make things okay, but I can’t if you don’t let me.”

I thought on his words for a second. Where did I start? How did I tell him the secrets I’d been keeping for a year?

I’m tired. I’m upset. I’m angry. I’m bored. I’m scared. I’m anxious. I’m depressed. I wonder what it’d be like to quit and move to upstate New York and buy a small house with a field. I can’t handle the attention, I can’t handle the pretending. I can’t handle your fans who love me and hate me and want nothing to do with me but want to know every single piece of our lives. I hate your job. I hate my job. I don’t know what else I’d do. I don’t know if you’d love me if I wasn’t the girl in the poster. What if I’m broken? What if I’ll never be the 17-year-old in the driveway that you fell in love with? What if I’m washed-up? What happens when people stop buying my albums? What happens when you leave the band? What happens when I’m 30, 40, 50? How do you know that you’ll love me forever?

He let a gust of air escape his lips when I didn’t reply. He got up from the couch, headed for the door, and closed it behind him. That’s when I knew he needed space. 

THEN - Day 1155

Margot had a temper. That was never news to me. She was loud and energetic and she had no problem letting me know when I fucked up. 

Maybe that’s why things felt so out of whack. 

She wasn’t saying anything. She didn’t seem to have anything to say. 

Emma slipped out of the room and I counted the seconds it took one of us to say something. She spoke first. 

“What’s wrong with you?”

I turned my head at record speed, my eyes wide as they met hers. She had deep circles under her eyes--her skin was pale and she made minimal effort to smile these days. 

“What’s wrong with me?” I stared at the girl I once knew--the girl who had turned into a shell of herself before my own eyes. “I should ask you the same thing. You’re the one who’s been--I dunno--weird for months now.”

I didn’t know how to be more direct. I’d asked what was wrong. I asked how she felt. I asked if she was sick. I asked if she needed help. I asked if she wanted to hurt herself. 

I tried and tried and tried to figure out how to help the girl with a big smile and make her feel okay. I knew she knew how. I’d seen it. 

My question startled her. She did the thing where she tried to retreat into herself--if she were a turtle, she’d be gone inside her shell until she knew it was safe to reappear. 

“I’m not being weird,” her voice was quieter now, the usual tone of defense replaced with one of fear or uncertainty. 

“Margot--what is going on between us?” I stood from my spot on the couch and made my way towards her. She flinched a little at this, sinking deeper into the cushions in the hotel room that she refused to sleep in. 

There was once a time where we got one room. One bed. One bathroom. Just us. Now she seemed to bruise under my touch and watch me with eyes that were constantly teary. 

“Nothing, I don’t know,” she shrugged her shoulders, reaching for her phone as if the conversation was that simple--as if a quick redaction of her words would undo the last few months. 

The new year brought me a new Margot. One that was sad and cold and distant. It’d been eleven months with the new version of her, but I still couldn’t pick her out of a crowd. 

I didn’t know how much longer I could take it. I could ask as many questions as I wanted. I could try to have a conversation and offer support. If she didn’t want it, she wouldn’t take it. It was that simple. 

So I’d get mad. I’d get mad and drop it and pretend--just like she was--that everything was fine. Maybe that wasn’t the right choice. Maybe I didn’t care. Maybe I just didn’t know what to do or who to be or what to say or how to love her. 

She stared at me with cold eyes now--more angry that she’d been a few moments earlier.

I wanted to tell her I knew. I wanted to tell her that I knew how she felt even if she didn’t have the words.

This is hard and scary and miserable, at times. We’re up early and up late and we’re tired and sick of doing this but what else do we do? Who am I without the band--who are you without your music or the show? Who are we without each other? What comes next? What comes in 10 years? Where do we go from here?

I didn’t know how to say all of that to her, and I wasn’t about to lie. 

So I decided to go with the truth. “Margot, I love you, and I want to make things okay, but I can’t if you don’t let me.”

She dropped my gaze when I spoke. I gave her a minute. Sixty seconds of silence to see if she’d say something. 

She didn’t. 

So I left. 

NOW - Day 1840

Margot shifted on the cushion beside me, turning her head slightly to signify that she wanted me to answer the therapist’s question: when did you know the honeymoon was over?

I cleared my throat and shrugged my shoulders a bit. When did I know? Had it ever begun? I didn’t really know the answer, and even if I did, I’d be worried about saying it in front of Margot. 

But my skull must have been transparent, because Margot let out a laugh and shifted again beside me. “Just answer, Harry, it’s okay.”

I blushed at this--embarrassed that I was so predictable and embarrassed that she’d called me on it. “I mean--I know they don’t typically last two years, but, I guess in 2014. We had a great summer, but we were both on tour.”

She nodded and the therapist did, too. “That was your second summer together?”

“Yeah,” we both said at the same time. 

“Mine was seventy-something different cities from May to October. Yours was…” she trailed off when she looked towards me for my answer. 

“Sixty-something spread out from April to October.” 

“It was fine at first,” Margot said, she stared out the window in Hilary’s office and a small smile came over her face. “Busy and a lot of travel but I think we were both excited to be on the road and visiting each other and whatever. It was kind of a high point in both our careers, I think.”

“So what changed?” Hilary asked, her question was directed towards me since I was the one who’d pinpointed that summer. Margot brought her eyes to mine again and waited. 

“I mean, it just wasn’t as easy. The summer of 2013 we were both still so excited, I think. I was just in love with her and nothing could really bring me down.”

Margot’s eyes stayed on my face even though I didn’t look at her. Hilary nodded for me to continue. “But by the end of 2014 I think,” I paused, unsure how to label the look of defeat in Margot’s eyes that winter. “She was tired. Emotionally, physically, all of it.”

“And you didn’t know what to do,” Hilary spoke for me, her eyes curious as I tore mine away. 

Instead of looking at either of them, I stared at my hands. I twisted the metal on my fingers and shrugged my left shoulder. “Not a clue. And when 2015 came it just got worse I asked and I tried to understand but,” my voice was higher pitched now, a desperation present that I hadn’t quite expected. 

It caught Margot off guard as well, she’d turned her whole body towards me on the couch and waited for me to continue. I could feel the water blur my vision, but I wiped quickly at my eyes to dispose of the evidence. 

You’d think I’d be okay crying in therapy. Margot said she’d done plenty.

“She wouldn’t tell me, she didn’t want my help and she didn’t seem to care that seeing her crumble was breaking me, too.” 

I wasn’t sure if I’d said it so pointedly before. The air in the room didn’t seem to shift like I’d expected. Instead, I heard Margot draw in a deep breath and then exhale. Hilary, who sat in her brown armchair across from us, turned her attention to Margot. 

“What does that bring up in you, Margot, hearing that?”

She mirrored the gesture I’d made ten times already--a shrug of her shoulders and another deep breath. “Bad, shitty. I didn’t mean to be so--difficult. I didn’t know what to do either. I was losing my mind and had no clue if anyone around me could handle that.” 

Her voice became more emotional as she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I thought if I told him that I was depressed and anxious and having a mental break down that he’d just leave.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” I said--the words had been said a thousand times before, but this time she nodded and looked up at me. 

The last time I said those words to her she got upset. After a glass of wine at her house I’d brought him up--the kid at the facility who touched her skin and knew how she tasted. I hated the thought of it, but then the guilt washed over me when I remembered that I’d taken things a step farther in Jamaica. 

She defended her secrecy regarding the incident and told me that she was afraid it’d do this: make me upset and create more space between us when we were just learning how to build a bridge. I told her over and over that I needed the truth from her, no matter how tough it would be. 

If we were going to do this, we needed to be honest. This time, she seemed to understand that more.

“I thought I was going to bring you down with me,” she said quietly. “I got it in my head that the only way to save you was to break up with you and spare you from my tragedy. But I just--I didn’t know how to communicate all of that.”

Margot didn’t know what to say or how to tell me she was miserable. I didn’t know how to tell her that I saw through her lies and that she needed help. We’d spent hours in studios writing lyrics, yet both of us had lost the ability to use our words when we really needed them.

I didn’t have to say this, though, because Hilary said it for me. 

She adjusted in her chair and offered a sympathetic smile. “Sounds like you both didn’t know what to do. And that you both wanted to help the other but wires got crossed.”

THEN - Day 2

I walked onto set the next morning and didn’t know what to expect. A part of me felt like I needed to apologize for how obnoxious my family had been. 

Sorry that Pete makes dad jokes. Sorry that Maya is so excitable. 

Maybe I needed to apologize for even thinking they’d want to eat dinner with my family and be entertained by pick-up games of driveway basketball. They were in a band. They had all the girls they wanted. They probably would have preferred a club downtown and hot models. 

So when Harry showed up in my dressing room as I on the couch with the script in my lap, I offered him an apologetic glance. 

“Came to say thanks for last night,” he smiled a bit, an air of nervousness seemed to come from his figure in the doorway. 

I closed the book and squeezed my eyes shut in embarrassment. “Sorry it was so lame--I hope you didn’t feel pressured, I know Maya was super excited--it was probably sort of be like hanging out with a fan.”

“It wasn’t lame,” his eyebrows dropped as if he were confused. “I really do love a good burger and I got to watch Niall act like an idiot.”

I laughed at that, wondering about the space between us. There were probably ten steps between where he stood and where I was on the couch. I heard voices from the hallway as production assistants passed. There was enough buzz by the coffee table when I’d arrived that I’d headed straight for the safe reprieve of my dressing room. 

“So when does the sightseeing begin?” He asked casually, taking three steps forward and standing directly in the center of the room. The makeup counter behind him was a mess. I had books on the coffee table and an array of sweatshirts sat atop a chair in the other corner. My laptop was on the cushion beside me, haunting me with the leftover homework from my on-set tutoring. It felt, for a second, like he was in my bedroom. My work bedroom. 

I had an idea of where he was going with it, but I didn’t want to seem too eager. “What do you mean?”

“Your hidden gems. You’ve talked them up quite a bit.”

I tried to hide the smile on my face--he seemed intrigued and interested but casual and confident. Dating at my age was hard enough. Add my job and life on top of it and it felt next to impossible. 

I would look at someone on the street and then there’d be an article about our raging romance. A previous break up in the spring had left me reeling, and I decided that I wasn’t about to date another person of notoriety. Something about Harry felt different. 

He seemed normal. Nice and human and suddenly thrust into the world that I was trying to stay afloat in. I felt like he would get it. 

NOW - Day 1908

Making an appearance in public with Harry wasn’t a new thing. There’d been plenty of red carpets and award shows where we’d walk arm in arm. 

There were more pictures of us on the internet than I could count--and whether they were actual shots of us at events, paparazzi grabs, or leaked selfies, it didn’t seem to matter. The world wanted more of us and so did we. 

Except for now. 

The car was being pumped full of cool air--the winter day in LA was hotter than either of us expected, and the heightened heartbeat in my chest didn’t help. 

“You’re actually shaking,” he laughed a little, his voice loud enough that Sinead lifted her eyes to check on me. 

“I’m fine,” I told him, my knee bouncing up and down beneath the red fabric of my dress. 

I was fine. I was nervous, of course, to be making our first appearance at an event together since 2015. Being seen going in and out of a coffee shop is way different than posing on a carpet and walking by old friends and new friends and seeing all of the people with cameras elbowing each other beyond the metal barricade. 

The Jingle Ball was being hosted at The Forum. I was only glad that it was a familiar location. 

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Sinead said quietly, her eyes still on her phone as the car slowed in line behind other black SUVs. We were in the drop off line--only a few cars in front of us until we’d climb out and smile, a motion that still seemed so robotic. 

But I was excited. I was just nervous, too. 

“S’gonna be fine, really. It’s not like people don’t know we’re together.”

“I know,” I said quietly, my eyes flickering out the window as I saw event managers pass by our car. “Just hope people don’t ask shitty questions or make things more awkward than they need to be.”

“So we divert and give them a vague answer,” Harry shrugged, his hand coming to rest on my thigh, his fingers gave me a quick squeeze before Sinead spoke. 

“Or you tell them to fuck off,” she laughed.

“That too,” Harry looked down at me, fighting a toothy grin. He ran a hand through his short hair and seemed to break eye contact for a second before looking down at me again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I told him. 

“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

Sinead buried her head in her phone, pretending to give us privacy. 

“For doing all of this. For coming back even though it was hard. For going to counseling, for working things out.”

I didn’t have snarky or sarcastic reply. I didn’t have a negative thing to say or a worry in my brain that he didn’t mean it. 

“Thank you,” I said quietly, leaning into him when he pressed his lips to my forehead. Our car had slowed to a stop now, a woman with a headset stood by Harry’s door as Sinead climbed out. When the door was shut behind her, a moment of comfortable silence passed between us.

“Niall will be inside,” Harry nodded his head in the direction of the venue. “Probably has a snack waiting for you.”

“Didn’t we eat those ridiculously good corndogs here a few years ago?”

“Yeah--they’re out of this world,” he nodded seriously. The woman with the headset knocked three times on the door, giving us a signal that she’d soon open it. 

“Hey,” I said, pulling on his arm to make him look back at me for a second. “I’m happy we’re doing this.”

“This?” He motioned out to the crowd again, but then motioned a hand between us. “Or this?”

“Both.”

NOW - Day 1963

January was mild in Malibu and the sun rose like pink flower petals across the sky. Harry’s tour was on pause for a bit--a deserved break from the madness that had consumed our fall. We’d decided, right after Christmas (with the help of Hilary), that it would be the perfect time for him to bring his things to my house in boxes, a certain sign that we were on the right track. 

Sinead stood in the foyer with a clipboard like she had the day I moved in. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was dressed casually: leggings, a t-shirt, Nikes. “Where are you putting that one?” She asked some of the movers who left dirty footprints on the marble floor. 

I wasn’t completely involved. Harry was in the driveway as the first check point. He asked what each box was labeled as, then told whoever was carrying it which room to put it in. 

Sinead was serving as back-up, which I think gave her more anxiety than anyone else. 

So I was in the kitchen, sat at the counter on my laptop going over possible wardrobe designs for an upcoming endeavor: a fifteen-date tour. 

It wasn’t really my idea. I mean, it was, and it wasn’t. Nick was patient and kind and told me that I didn’t have to do one at all for this album if I didn’t want to. And at first, I didn’t know if I would. I needed time to see how people would react. I needed to see if they’d be as patient and kind as everyone close to me was. 

The fall was busy and the holidays came and went with home-cooked meals and mulled wine at Anne’s house. We took a trip with Gemma and her boyfriend and even let Ben and Sara tag along. Maya was super jealous but claimed she’d get us back one day by going on a trip of her own without all of us. 

I think it was good for us to spend some time away from Malibu and Los Angeles altogether. Even though I’d been relatively inactive, I was still accessible just by being here. Even when I was quiet, my name was making headlines for just that: No news is bad news from Margot Jones?

So being in the UK was a nice break and spending time with our families felt safe and secure.

“Okay, we have one problem,” Harry appeared in the kitchen, his arms folded over his chest as he leaned against the doorway. 

I looked up, raising my eyebrows as a non-verbal cue to go on. 

“I brought three acoustic guitars--you’ve got four up there as well as that electric that Nathan got you one year.”

I laughed, closing the colorful designs on my laptop and shutting the computer altogether. I let my elbows rest on the counter. 

Those weren’t even all of our instruments. The baby grand that slept in the music room took up most of the space--scattered guitar stands were likely the least of our concerns. “I can keep some at the studio, s’fine.”

I walked over to him and let him drape his arms around me, my head fitting against his chest with ease. He smelled like cardboard and laundry detergent--a fitting Saturday around the house mix. 

“Or, one day, we just buy a house big enough to keep all of our shit.”

My lips twitched up at that. He’d been using more future-focused language--a term that made us giggle every time Hilary used it. “Yeah, that’s a good plan.”

My house wasn’t big enough for us forever. It was fine for now, especially seeing as the next few months it’d still be just me. Harry would be on the road and then I’d head off on my own tour, flying home for low-key weekends and take-out on the couch. 

It made more sense though, for us to label the same spot as home, seeing as he’d already been sleeping here more than anywhere else in LA. 

So he went back to unpacking and I went back to wardrobe questions via email. I headed to my mom’s that afternoon for a while when I got sick of all the people in my house. Harry and Sinead could handle it, and I think the fact that I was willing to let them handle it was a sign of growth. I listened to Maya talk about her upcoming Spring semester and I laughed at obnoxious pictures from our trip that Sara had finally uploaded to her computer. 

When I came home that night and keyed into my front door, I was greeted with music floating in from the kitchen. Beside that was the smell of something delicious--lemon chicken? Maybe even veal? I could hear Harry humming along to the song, and when I dropped my keys on the counter and rounded the corner, he wiggled his hips next to the stove as he used a spatula to move things around inside the pan that he watched closely. 

The house was quiet--the dust settled after a busy day with a lot of commotion. In the corner of the living room, his favorite guitar sat on a stand near the window and the two books he most recently read were on the coffee table between the two couches. 

I didn’t know it yet, but his toothbrush was beside mine in the master bath upstairs and a framed picture of his family was on the nightstand by the bed. Our bed. And something about all of that felt right. 

NOW - Day 2049

New York was beautiful in the spring, the green leaves a sign of triumph. The scene of our wintry break up had blossomed into a colorful portrait of ings. Trying. Talking. Hoping. Working. Doing.

Harry and I couldn’t promise each other the moon or the stars or the sky. We couldn’t avoid fights or disagreements like we couldn’t avoid the puddles on the sidewalks on a rainy day. 

But we could promise the ings. Talking. Trying. Making it work even when it felt like things were broken. After all, that had been the entirety of 2017. 

So 2018 felt different. He was on tour and I was on tour and both of us knew that our living room on the cliffs in Malibu was a sanctuary we’d always return to--no matter how dark the night seemed. 

But this weekend, one that we both had off, was the perfect time for a trip back to the city we’d ended things in. The sidewalks were still stained and sirens still blared. Cars clogged the intersections and the skyline stretched up to the sun. Nothing had changed in New York, but everything in us was different. 

He didn’t tell me where we were having dinner. Instead, he told me to meet him after I got off my flight, the wings of the small plane dipping as we circled the busy island below. An address flashed on my screen when my phone reconnected to service--somewhere in the Village. 

So I sat in the backseat of a car excited to see him. I watched the scenery change from the suburbs of the airport to the crowded streets, and when I got to the address he’d sent, I recognized it. 

A small boutique hotel I’d mentioned three months earlier. Owned by a family that we knew. The elevator in the lobby brought me and the security detail trailing behind up to a rooftop garden. 

“I’m fine,” I told man in a dark grey suit, allowing him to hang back when I noticed the rest of the roof was empty. Just Harry, peonies, and a bartender behind mahogany counter. A table near the edge of the roof, his back was turned to me as he looked out over the city. 

“Very chic,” I said, slowing my pace a bit when he turned around. His lips faltered for a second, a smile overtaking the hesitation when he let his eyes meet mine. 

“You look beautiful,” he said, his hand finding the small of my back when he closed the distance between us, meeting me in the middle of the empty rooftop. 

“S’quiet up here,” I said, looking around at all of the colors. The blue and pink sunset, the different reds and oranges of flowers. Green leaves and shades of grey below. “Just us?”

“Just us,” he nodded. 

A waiter brought us champagne--two flutes with bubbles clinging to the sides. There was dinner and conversation and he told me about the past week. He told me about the ways he missed me and when we finished dessert, I pointed north and asked if he saw it. 

“See what?”

I pointed a finger and closed one eye, the shine from the windows in the distance blurring into an orb of light now that the sun had sunk below the horizon. “That’s The Langham.”

He leaned his head over to rest on mine, I wondered if he was thinking about the interior of the room. The words I said, the way he looked so distant, the sound in my voice when I told him to leave. 

If he was thinking about that he didn’t say it. Instead: “We’ve come a long way.”

I nodded, thankful for the separation from the city below. Twenty-two floors stood between us and the rest of the world--like the rooftop was a private space where we were untouchable. At least I could pretend that we were momentarily. 

“Marg,” he said suddenly, pulling away from me slightly. He shoved a hand in his pocket and fished out a black velvet box. 

“I, uh,” he lifted the box and set it down twice, a thumping in my stomach had me hanging on his words. “I have this.”

I looked down at it, his left hand reached up to open it, a small light inside reflected off of the stone, my eyes flew up to his for an explanation. 

He sunk to one knee, the way you do when you tie a shoe or pick something up from the ground. He told me he loved me, his voice soft enough for only me to hear, and he asked me to do this forever, as messy or as hard as it might be. 

I muttered out some type of yes of course oh my god are you serious I had no idea I’m so excited I love you so much yes. 

He hugged me and brought his forehead to mine and we swayed like that in the dark--I wondered where the rest of the people were, inevitably watching but pretending they weren’t. Two more bubbly flutes, phone calls to important people, then more staring at the skyline that blinked and buzzed--but this time, in a hopeful way.

It wasn’t about the ring. It wasn’t about the people on sidewalks below who’d soon know. It wasn’t about the champagne or the rooftop or our tours or the hotel that was fifteen blocks away where I’d watched him walk away. 

In fact, it wasn’t about the past at all. 

It was about now. Forward motion like the changing tide in Malibu that rocked me to sleep when I was alone. Like the sunrise I’d watch on the deck while I wondered where he was. 

The best part of now was that I didn’t have to wonder: he was right beside me.

Seeing her made Niall’s heart speed up, but the thought of them alone together at night in her house made Niall’s heart stop. What if it led to that? Was he ready?

It was early Saturday morning on a crisp November morning that Niall decided that he was ready to move on with his sex life. There had been enough rosey palm and her five friends with lotion and pornos to last a lifetime. He decided that whatever happens, happens.

He grabbed his tool belt from the passenger seat and climbed out of the SUV. With each step, his heart beat faster- his palms sweating and his knees felt like Jell-O.

Rachel had opened the door before Niall stepped onto the porch. The bushes of Hydrangeas and Forsythias colored the front yard. Rachel stood in a floral short robe with white bunny slippers as she held a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Her robe was falling off her tanned shoulder exposing her white tank top, and her blonde hair lay a messy bun on top of her head.

“Want some?” Rachel held up her coffee cup as she took in the scent of Hazelnut. She had been awake maybe thirty minutes before, but she only got out of bed to pee and make coffee; however, when she heard the sound of tires hitting her gravel driveway, she scurried to cover herself up. She hadn’t expected him this early. The only reason she was up was to grade papers.

“Would love some, actually.” Rachel turned and headed towards the kitchen letting Niall walk himself in. Daisy was asleep on the wooden floor of the hallway, but when she caught the familiar scent of Niall, she jolted awake, shaking her head and walked over to her new friend.

“Hey good girl. How ya been?” Niall asked Daisy as he rubbed behind her ears. He pulled a treat out of his tool belt and gave the dog it before she walked back to her place in the hallway and fell down to sleep again.

Niall walked to the kitchen and he leaned on the doorway as he took in the sight of Rachel hunting for a clean coffee mug.

“Honestly, at this point, I’ll take an empty milk carton,” Niall smiled as Rachel teasedly flicked off her beau. She crossed the kitchen, opened up the dishwasher, and bent over to get a plastic cup from the drain. Niall’s eyes went wide as Rachel did this. Her hips, wide, were up in the air for a moment and he saw everything. Her pajama shorts hid nothing and spared nothing for the imagination. He bit his lip, imagining what it would be like to grab Rachel’s hips, she righted herself.

“Cream? Sugar?”

“Black.”

“What a weirdo.”

The first sip of the hazelnut coffee sent Niall’s mind racing. He laid out the plans of the new kitchen in front of Rachel as she overlooked. She couldn’t help but smile as Niall talked on and on about how it would be better to move the refrigerator away from the stove due to electrical problems and how having the sink and dishwasher next to each other would be ideal. She didn’t care how her kitchen turned out honestly. She just wanted to have an excuse to be around Niall.

She nodded her head and said, “Whatever you think is best.”

Rachel and Niall began packing up the few dishes and cooking utensils that Rachel owned by placing them on the dining room table. Everything had to be gone so when Niall ripped out the cabinets, everything was safe from the destruction.

Rachel moved the three bottles of vodka to the living room coffee table to make sure that the important stuff was out of the way for sure,

“Can I help?” Rachel asked. She quickly dressed herself in yoga pants and a t-shirt while Niall moved the cleaning supplies onto the floor of the eating area.

“Um, sure. If you want. But don’t think because you’re helping, you’re bill will be cheaper.” Niall winked at her before handing Rachel some gloves and a mask.

“Guess I’ll have to take that up with HR then.”

They spent the entire day ripping apart cabinet doors, counter tops, and stepping over drill bits and screws that they didn’t realize the day had washed away from them. Niall sat on the back porch watching the stars twinkle when Rachel slid the glass door open. She was towel drying her her wet hair when she sat down on the wooden deck beside him. She leaned her head onto Niall’s shoulder. Her wet hair sank onto Niall’s shirt and he felt the coolness of Rachel’s shower soak through to his hot skin.

Rachel and Niall had sat in silence for a moment before she spoke.

“I need a drink. Want one?” Niall nodded and Rachel stood up and walked into her home. The glass door was in the archway to the outside and the dining room. She grabbed two maroon and gold plastic FSU cups and walked into the living room.

With a snicker on her face, Rachel handed Niall a cup full of vodka. She had filled it to the brim almost. She took a sip and chuckled as Niall let the aroma of the alcohol fill his nose. He took a large sip despite the burning feeling running down his throat. He felt warm once the liquid settled into his stomach even out in the cool night air.

“You should probably go inside...before you get sick,” Niall said, running his fingers through the wet blonde tendrils.

“That’s such a myth.” Rachel pulled out her phone and began to take pictures of them- some cute and silly with them making funny faces into the camera, some normal where their smiles beamed, and the others… their lips locked against each other and Rachel could tasted the vodka on Niall’s lips. She became drunk off Niall.

When Niall pulled away from their kiss, he asked Rachel to send those to him.

For the next few hours, the couple watched cat videos on Niall’s phone while they drank the distilled liquid. The alcohol burned Rachel’s throat and she could no longer speak coherent words. She asked for Niall’s help to get up.

“I...need….I need...to….pee…” Rachel reached up for Niall’s hand as he stood feeling the buzz floating around in his head. He felt light and care-free. He grasped Rachel’s hand and helped her up. But instead of walking to the bathroom, she felt sick. Her stomach churned and her throat felt swollen. Her mouth watered and felt the alcohol coming back up.

Rachel was drunk.

Niall held her hair back from her face as the smell of the vomit hit his nose. He felt like throwing up too, but that wouldn’t help either of them. Rachel wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and looked up at Niall, her eyes gleaming. He forgot that he was almost forty and Rachel was younger because in this moment, they were just there.

It was in that moment that he felt something for the first time in a long time.

“Let’s get you to bed?” Niall half-asked. It was more of a statement than anything. “Can you walk?” Rachel shook her head.

Niall cupped his arm under Rachel’s knees and lifted her up. The glass door was still left open from when Rachel got the vodka. Daisy met the couple at the door, her tail wagging. Rachel hushed her by putting her finger to her lips and loudly whispering, “SHHHHH!”

Niall carried Rachel to her unmade bed. When he laid her body down, Rachel was softly snoring. Niall pulled the covers across her body and gently kissed her forehead.

“I love you.”

He said it. Niall said the words out loud. Was it the vodka that had made him so brave or was it the fact Rachel couldn’t hear him?

“I love you so much. I think I’m in love.”

He said it again. He wanted to say it over and over until his mouth fell apart.

But he didn’t. He looked at Rachel one last time before turning to leave the bedroom. In the doorway, he heard a quiet, “Stay.”

Niall slept on the couch in the living room, his mind racing. Had Rachel heard him? Was that her way of saying it back? When he finally had fallen asleep in the early arms of the morning, he dreamt of Iz.She was floating in air surrounded by white light. Could it be? She smiled at her young lover and Niall felt a hand wrap around his arm. He turned from the angelic face of his dead wife to see the blonde tendrils of an unknown face. “Go,” Iz said, and suddenly Niall was awaken by Rachel letting Daisy out.

He sat up, realizing that it was Sunday morning. It was pancake day at his house. He had to go. Rachel smiled at Niall as he stood up and walked over to her.

“I got to go. The kids, they need breakfast.” Niall’s voice shifted. He wasn’t sure how to take last night.

“Pancakes?” Niall nodded his head and after he kissed Rachel goodbye, she yelled across the room as Niall was leaving. Her heart was pounding, but she had heard him last night. She had heard clearly.

Mia is running late. Today is her first day working at her dream job, and she’s running six minutes behind schedule. Six minutes isn’t a lot, but for Mia, it feels like six hours, because she’s wanted a job like this for as long as she can remember. She’s been a numbers geek since she learned to count. She fell in love with baseball as a kid, watching it on television and going to games with her dad, and she fell in love with statistics in college. Putting everything together seemed completely natural, and when she landed this job, she was, in a word, ecstatic.

Somehow, the traffic is light on her route to the stadium, and she makes it there nine minutes ahead of schedule. But she gets lost on her way to the statisticians’ office, and arrives there at 8:33am. She feels a pang of guilt for being three minutes late on her first day, but there’s nothing she can do at this point, so she shrugs it off as best she can. She’s supposed to be there thirty minutes before the official work day begins in order to be shown around the office and for some administrative stuff, anyway. The man who interviewed her for the position is waiting for her. He’s middle-aged, with thinning brown hair and a wide, friendly smile. She can’t remember his name, but she hopes that it won’t be an issue.

“Amelia Simon?” he asks.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replies.

“I don’t know if you remember my name from your interview. You seemed a little overwhelmed by the idea of working here. In any case, I’m Andrew Green, and I’m your new boss. Let me show you around the office.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mr. Green,” Mia smiles at him.

“Please call me Andrew. We’re all friends around here, Amelia.”

“Well, then, please call me Mia. It’s what I prefer.”

“I’ll remember that,” he pauses for a moment for dramatic effect, “Mia.”

Andrew first shows Mia her cubicle, then the break room, followed by the location of the bathrooms, and finally the conference room, where she’ll be for major meetings, including those with players. She fills out some paperwork at her new desk, and brings them to Andrew in his office.

“You seem eager to get started,” Andrew says. “I can already tell you’ll fit in quite well. You’re our newest, fresh out of graduate school. I can’t wait to see what you can do for our statistics team and for the players themselves.”

Mia grins. “I really can’t wait. It’s been my dream to work for a baseball team, any baseball team, for as long as I can remember, and you’re my hometown team. I’d hoped I’d be able to work for this team, but I wasn’t sure there’d be a position for me to take here. And I can be close to my family too! I can’t believe this is real.”

“Well, it is. Take a moment to soak it in, and then we’ll head to your first stat team meeting.”

Mia takes a deep breath in, and holds it. She releases it slowly. “I’m ready,” she tells Andrew.

They walk together to the meeting room, where the rest of the team’s statisticians have gathered.

“This is Mia Simon, everybody. She’s the newest member of our little operation here,” Andrew introduces her, and she waves awkwardly at them.

They go around the room, introducing themselves to Mia. She doesn’t remember any names because she’s nervous meeting so many new people at once, but she tells herself that it’ll be okay and that she’ll learn their names quickly enough.

“Today is a big day!” Andrew announces, once they’ve finished the introductions. “Pitchers and catchers report for their first official Spring Training workouts on Wednesday, and we have lots to do before they get there, because the rest of the team will be arriving on the following Monday.”

Mia puts her hand up, and Andrew points at her to speak. “Will we be meeting with the players during Spring Training at all?”

“Only the senior members of our stat team will travel to Florida to meet with the team during preseason workouts. However, our junior statisticians -- and, yes, that includes you Mia! -- will remain here. You will be meeting with some of the players throughout the regular season, though, again, you will not be traveling with the team at all. You’ll each be looking at and analyzing the stats for several players who are on the roster, or some minor leaguers and non-roster players invited to Spring Training, or a combination of the two. That’ll be all of you, junior and senior statisticians.”

“Okay,” Mia nods her understanding. Another hand goes up, that of a young man who looks to be around her age.

“Yes, Niall?”

“Which cubicle did you give to Mia? The one next to mine?” Andrew nods. “Okay, good.” Niall seems pleased.

The meeting wraps up with instructions on what each statistician should be doing for the next week to prep for the preseason, and they are all given player assignments. Mia is assigned to look at the stats for a couple of non-roster minor leaguers who were invited to Major League Spring Training to compete for a spot on the team, along with Harry Styles, the face of the franchise and star slugger of the team. She thinks this must be wrong, and she goes to approach Andrew, but he is preoccupied with one of the senior statisticians, so she goes back to her cubicle and asks her new cubicle neighbor, Niall.

“It seems like Andrew gave me the wrong instructions,” she tells him, and passes over her papers.

“Nah,” Niall says. “Someone else is ‘actually’ assigned to him. This is just a test to see what you’re made of.”

“Really?” Mia says, relieved. “Thanks for the heads up. I was really worried. I mean, Harry Styles? He’s amazing and I couldn’t help him get better if I tried.”

Niall laughs. “That’s what you think, but even the best players benefit from our help. That’s why we have a job at all. By the way, I’m Niall Horan. I’m the second-newest member of the stat team. I asked if you were in the cubicle next to mine because I wanted to make sure you had somebody young to help navigate you through the first few days.”

“Thanks, Niall. I really appreciate that. I’m Mia Simon, but you already knew that.” She extends her hand, and they shake hands, an unspoken agreement to be friends.

***

One week later, on Mia’s second Monday at the job, she and Niall are sitting in the break room, chatting and finishing their lunches, when Andrew walks in.

“Ah, good. Just the two people I wanted to see,” he says, and clears his throat importantly. “Two of our senior statisticians are really sick. They both have strep throat and are very contagious, and they’ll be out for at least a week. In any case, I need two more people to fly to Florida tomorrow with the group to help explain some stuff to the players and coaches. I was hoping you two youngsters would like to come along to see what Spring Training is all about. In addition, I was hoping some young faces would help the players pay more attention to what we’re saying.”

There is a silence, while the two process what Andrew told them. Then, once it hits them, their mouths drop open. The two look at each other like little kids who were just told by their parents that they’re on their way to Walt Disney World.

“This has to be a mistake,” Mia says after her heart rate slows a little. “Why us?”

“Because you are the only two junior statisticians on the team who haven’t been through any part of the preseason or regular season yet. Niall was hired in October, right after the season ended, since we didn’t make the playoffs. And you were obviously just hired. We wanted to give you an opportunity to see what it would be like, if and when you become senior statisticians. Besides, you two are our best and brightest new additions anyway. I saw what you did with Styles’ stats, Mia. You’ll do great. Don’t worry too much.”

Andrew smiles encouragingly at them. “I’ll let you two go home when you’re done eating and pack. I’ll see you bright and early at the airport, all right? Eight o’clock sharp. We’ll be there for four days, including tomorrow, so keep that in mind.”

***

Back at her apartment, Mia is riddled with anxiety. She doesn’t know what to pack, because she’s never been on a trip quite like this one, so she calls Niall. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey! What’s up?”

“Hi Niall. I have no idea what to pack for this trip. Do I pack business casual? Or do I pack team apparel? Or do I just pack regular clothes? Help me!”

She knows she sounds a little crazy and desperate, but she doesn’t care. She’s too wrapped up in her own anxiety about meeting members of the team she’s been rooting for as long as she can remember.

“Whoa,” Niall says, a little taken aback. “Calm down a little. It’s just a business trip. I would say pack business casual and maybe put a jersey or two in there as well if you really want to. We’re meeting the team as statisticians, not as fans, you gotta remember that.”

“Right,” Mia grounds herself. “Of course. I’m so dumb. I’m just so excited that I let my emotions get ahead of my logical self. Okay.”

“You gonna be okay now?”

“Yeah, Niall. I think I’ll be fine. Thanks. Bye. See you tomorrow at the airport, eight o’clock sharp.” Mia smiles into the phone, despite her nerves.

“Bye Mia,” Niall says, and hangs up.

Mia tosses a couple of her favorite jerseys into her bag, including one that reads STYLES with a number 10 on the back. He has been her favorite player since he was called up to the majors a few years back. She’s a little overly anxious to meet him, she thinks. She tells herself to calm down. He’s just another person. They’re all just people. Why is this so intimidating?

***

Bright and early the following morning, or rather, dark and early at 6am, Mia rolls out of bed, exhausted, but with a big smile on her face. She’s going to fly down to Florida! She’s going to meet some of her favorite players! And best of all, she’s doing it in an official capacity as a statistician for the team,so they have to listen to her. Admittedly, this makes her a little more nervous, because she has no idea what she’s supposed to say, but she’s too excited to let it bother her.

After showering and getting dressed, she tries to eat a light breakfast, but she’s too nervous to eat. She only manages a few bites of food, so she grabs a banana and a couple of granola bars to take with her. She calls Niall on her way out the door, and gets his voicemail. When she arrives at the terminal at 7:40,  she’s greeted by Andrew and two other senior statisticians from the office, Daniel and James. Niall arrives at the gate five minutes before their boarding call, super out of breath, but with a wide smile on his face.

“My alarm didn’t go off,” he says by way of explanation for his sweaty, disheveled self. “In all the excitement yesterday, I must’ve set it for 6:30pm somehow. If it hadn’t been for Mia calling me when she was leaving her apartment, I don’t think I would’ve made it. I’m lucky I live relatively close to the airport.”

“Well, Niall,” Daniel clears his throat and smirks at him. “We’re, um, glad you’re here.” He glances at Mia, who narrows her eyes at him.

“Me too!” Niall agrees, oblivious to the clear venom in Daniel’s voice.

Luckily, their boarding number is called then, before Mia can say anything to Daniel that might damage her career. They are sitting in business class, which is a first for both Mia and Niall. They’re assigned seats are next to each other, which they appreciate. The looks that they’re getting from Daniel and James are unpleasant, to say the least. Mia is a bit uncomfortable when she realizes that she’s the only woman in their group, but then she remembers that it was supposed to be Andrew, James, Daniel, George, and Sue. There aren’t that many women in the office, she realizes, and somehow that calms her enough that she falls right into a deep sleep that carries her all the way to Florida.

***

“Wake up, Mia!” Niall whisper-shouts into her ear.

She sits bolt upright, obviously startled, and then slouches a bit and swats at him. “You scared me!”

“Sorry. I guess I had too much coffee. We’re about to land in Florida, by the way. That’s why I was waking you.”

“Oh, okay, cool.” Mia says, and turns to snuggle back into her comfy seat. But then his words register. “What?! We’re here?!” she squeals, and then, realizing that she’s in public, quiets herself. She’s still bouncing in her seat a little when the pilot announces the time, the weather, and that they’ve arrived.

Mia and Niall catch up with the rest of the group at baggage claim, as they’d rushed off the plane as soon as they could. The two friends get stuck behind a family of six who were blocking the end of the gangway to the plane by taking a selfie with the “Welcome to Orlando” sign. The family is clearly headed to Disney World, but Niall and Mia still think they have the better end of the stick. Once everyone has their luggage, the group gets into a set of two waiting cars. Daniel and James get into the first one, and Andrew insists on getting into the second with Mia and Niall to prepare them for their first full-team meeting.

She’s nearly asleep after just a few seconds, but manages to muster up enough energy to retrieve her phone from the pocket of her sweatshirt. Setting an alarm to get up is the responsible thing to do even though the mere thought of waking up sets Hanna’s lower lip into a pout. But, with classes starting in almost two weeks and a fifteen page paper due for her interim course, she doesn’t exactly have time to waste. 

After checking that the clock read exactly noon, she sets an alarm to go off in two and a half hours. Perhaps she will wake up groggy and annoyed, but she has an inkling that waking up at any point will leave her just the same. Hanna tosses the device on her bedside table and not even five minutes later is she snoring beneath the quilted fabric of her comforter. 

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Hanna wakes up to a wash of light purples and reds that paint her white walls a muted version of the colors. She can feel a stiffness in her neck as she shifts to her back on the bed and her face scrunches up with the discomfort. Hanna already knows that she has slept well past her alarm, but she can’t bring herself to care. She feels far too well rested and surely that can’t be a bad thing. If anything, it should make her much more productive. 

She pushes herself to sit up, pressing her back to pillows and leaning her head against the wall behind her. Her hand rises to cup the junction between her throat and neck, rolling her neck to relieve the tension. The other hand reaches for the phone that has shifted toward the edge of the table with the vibrations that accompanied her alarm. 

After turning off the do not disturb feature, her phone is flooded with notifications. She checks her voicemail first, seeing two separate calls from her mother and father. 

“Hi, Hanna. I’m glad you are home. Please give your mother and I a call when you’ve settled back in. Love you, kiddo.” 

“Iha. Call me when you are able to. I love you.”

They are both simple messages, but it has been more than two weeks since Hanna had heard the voice of her parents. Her mother’s silvery tone fills her with warmth and her dad’s sparks a yearning to be home that, in reality, always resides just below the surface. She holds off on calling them back, though. She hardly thinks that calling them at 5:36am on a Saturday is a good idea. Instead, she figures calling them after she has unpacked and begun settling back in would be much better.

She continues to look through her notifications. She reads through missed text messages from the group chat she has with Imogen, Tyler, and Sonam. It is an assortment of half finished thoughts, capital letters, and promises to go out the first week they are all back. (Hanna misses them something fierce. She absolutely cannot wait until Imogen returns to their shared apartment and Tyler and Sonam essentially move themselves in alongside her). 

Hanna types out a quick message to let them know she may or may not have slept for over twelve hours before switching to her social media accounts. Twitter has hardly anything new to offer after she had spent the better part of the flight scrolling through it, but Instagram is littered with likes and comments on her most recent picture. 

She scrolls through the notifications, reading each comment and liking the few that are from friends. There are even a few direct messages that have gone stale in her inbox after having been sent more than a week ago. But, there is one that was sent shortly after she had posted a picture of her arrival at LAX. 

niallhoran: you left so soon ! wish i would’ve known. i could’ve shown you the real sights to see in london. 

niallhoran: sorry if that sounded creepy at all, didn’t mean it if it did !! 

Hanna laughs quietly to herself at Niall’s messages. She hardly thinks that he sounded creepy, but she is not above engaging in some light teasing. 

hannarey: might’ve been a little more than creepy

hannarey: lmao i'm kidding! sorry i didn’t let you know when you dropped me off. i would’ve liked that. 

She doesn’t really expect a response right away, but her phone vibrates with a message only a few moments later. 

niallhoran: shit, sorry! but, would’ve liked to have gotten to know you better.

And Hanna doesn’t know it, but Niall is nibbling at his lower lip as he types out each message. She makes him more nervous than he can even describe and it’s almost embarrassing. Especially when Liam comes in, hair wild after his lie-in and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, asking him why he looks so pensive. (Really, Liam asks why he looks so constipated). 

“Remember those two American girls that we had over?” Niall asks, glancing away from his phone for the first time.

“Hanna and Ira, yeah.” Liam nods as he moves to make himself a cup of tea, raising his mug as if to ask Niall if he would like his own.

Niall nods silently before continuing, “I was thinking about asking Hanna ‘round, but she’s back in the states, I guess.” 

The disappointment that sticks to every syllable is impossible to miss. Niall had felt that they had hit it off pretty well while Ira and Liam slept. He learned quite a bit about her love for literature and how she sometimes worried that working in the field would diminish her passion for it. She supplemented those vulnerable moments with retellings of fun nights out with her core group of friends. 

And Niall had been just as forthcoming with his own stories. He had told her of the year that he had taken off to travel around Europe because he had never left Ireland before then. He even allowed himself to delve into the insecurities that still plague him despite the fact that he has been offered more than one position as a producer following graduation. 

“Oh,” Liam doesn’t sound all that bothered, but he knows that the pair had grown closer in the few hours that they had known each other. “Did you at least manage to get her Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I messaged her just a little bit ago.” Niall says, glancing back to his phone to see that Hanna had messaged him back.

hannarey: sorry! could message me on whatsapp or whatever, if you’ve got it. 

hannarey: look who’s being creepy now. oops. 

A broad smile tugs at the corner of Niall’s lips when he reads it. He sends her a short message with his information for the app. His thumb hovers over the screen as he contemplates sending her his contact information for Skype. The screen name is typed out, but the digit circles momentarily. He squeezes his eyes shut after an internal pep talk and presses send. Thinks that it would be a bummer if she is put off by it, but he figures that it is the worst thing that could happen. 

hannarey: a little forward, aren’t we? kidding, i’ll add you in just a second!

True to her word, Niall receives a notification from Hanna a few minutes later. He receives another one shortly thereafter, but it comes from WhatsApp. He accepts both before typing out a greeting on the latter application. 

“Then it’s going well, I take it?” Liam chortles, having come back into the living room to offer Niall his cup of tea. 

“Thanks,” Niall says, typing a message with one hand and accepting the hot mug with the other. “Mhm. She asked me for my contact information.” 

He hopes, at the very least, that Hanna’s forwardness is indicative of their mutual enjoyment of each other’s company. Especially because Niall has never once connected with someone as quickly as he had with her. She emanated a warmth and sense of reprieve from the demands of everyday life. Even with five and a half thousand miles between them, the feeling envelopes Niall. And that has to mean something. 

.     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .     .

Hours later, Hanna and Niall have maintained fairly consistent conversations. They are only ever interrupted by Hanna’s unpacking, a long call with her parents, and Niall’s short trip to do some food shopping. It was easy to fall in and out of conversation with one another. Neither bothered by periods of absences, but equally as thrilled to see a message light up their respective phones. 

However, Niall’s eyelids begin to droop as the time easily slides toward a quarter past one in the morning. He is already beneath the deep gray and navy blue duvet cover on his bed, his head cradled by two flat pillows that sit one on top of the other. His bedside lamp and the dull glow of his phone are the only things to illuminate the room. 

He almost feels too tired to continue talking with Hanna despite the fact that their conversation has strayed far away from anything interesting. Hanna is only telling him about her plans to stay in for the remainder of the night. He could practically see the pout on her face when she had grumbled about being bored without the company of her friends. And the conversation hadn’t moved much further than that. Partially due to the short responses on Niall’s behalf, his body finally fatiguing after fighting off his exhaustion for the last few hours. 

But, Niall really doesn't want to stop messaging Hanna. Even with his thoughts becoming incoherent and thumbs hovering over the keyboard as he attempts to configure an appropriate response. And he knows sleep is far more important than staying up late to talk to some girl over five thousand miles away. But, he has an inkling that Hanna isn’t just some girl. 

Especially when she is the one offering to video chat with him, if he’s comfortable with doing so, after he had insisted he was exhausted but would fight it a little longer just to keep talking. 

Niall is greeted by a cream colored wall adorned with various different types of framed artwork. Hanna is nowhere to be seen, but he can hear a faint rustling from somewhere beyond the view of the camera. 

“Thought I would be talking to you and not the wall.” Niall begins, voice thick and heavy with sleep. 

“Sorry! I’m just grabbing a snack from the kitchen!” Hanna’s pops up behind a wall that sits to the left of the screen. 

She raises her hand in a wave before being obscured once more. Niall is grateful for the moment to collect himself. It had only been a few days since he had seen Hanna for the first time and during that time, she had been done-up for a night out. Now, she appears to be in a pair of black sweatpants rolled at the top to keep them from falling even further down her small frame. The gap between the top of her sweats and the end of a tank top is hard to miss, the sliver of tanned skin hard to miss when it contrasted so starkly against the all black outfit.

Hanna emerges from the kitchen after flicking the light switch off and she settles herself in front of her laptop. A bowl of cereal sits in the palm of one of her hands while she tilts the lid of her computer down to put her in center view. 

“Hi,” she greets Niall with a smile. “Sorry, I just haven’t really eaten much today.”

Niall rolls over to his side, tucking his free arm between his pillows and extending the other to hold his phone further out. 

“No worries. Thought you said you went shopping earlier, though?” His brows furrow in confusion as he recalls a piece of their conversation.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. But, s’just the corner store at the end of my street.” Hanna speaks around a mouthful of cereal. “Too jet lagged to go anywhere else.” 

Niall nods in response. He is only capable of imagining what it would be like to spend ten or so hours traveling across the globe. He’s never really stepped foot outside of Europe, unless you count the trip to Disney World that he took with his parents when he was only two years old. Obviously, he has absolutely no recollection of the long flight over the Atlantic, but he is sure that it was worse for his parents than it was for him. 

“Can’t blame you there. What are you planning to do now?” he asks, a yawn following shortly after. 

“I’ll probably outline the rest of my paper. That way I have it finished before my roommate moves back in.” She pauses, “You should head to bed, though. You sound like you’re ready to drop.”

Niall shakes his head, “I’m not that tired.”

“Oh, bullshit.” Hanna giggles, bringing her legs up to sit criss-crossed. “You sound like you did a few days ago. And I know you were exhausted then.” 

Niall can feel a slight swell in his chest at her words. The simple fact that she had observed so much about him within the few short hours they had gotten to know one another made him soft, if he’s honest. It downright would’ve turned him into a puddle, if that were physically possible. 

“Please, Niall. Get yourself some sleep.” She says, stern chocolate brown eyes staring him down through the screen. “You can even call me again tomorrow night, if you’d like. Can’t promise I’ll be any more enthralling than I am right now, though.”

Niall knuckles at his eyes, heaving a sigh as he does so. He misses the way Hanna scrunches up her nose at the sight. Niall is just so cute and her attraction only strengthens as she gets to see small glimpses into his life.

Niall would much rather spend the entire night talking with Hanna, but the possibility of just hearing her voice again tomorrow is enough for him to justify going to sleep. He doesn’t voice that, though. At least, not in so many words.

“I’d like that.” He mumbles, ocean blue eyes concealed as his eyelids become even heavier. “Just call whenever you’re free, yeah? Liam and I will be ‘round all day tomorrow.”

“Alright, I’ll do that.” Her giggled response lands on Niall’s ears, albeit distorted, it still pulls the corners of his lips into a tired smile.

“Goodnight, Hanna.” Niall yawns, opening his eyes only to narrow them at the bright screen.

“Goodnight, Niall. I hope you sleep well.”

And he does. In fact, Niall is convinced that it is the best sleep he has gotten in weeks. Eight hours spent without a dream or nightmare to challenge the suddenly beautiful reality he was living in.

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