Last night is such a blur. The last thing I remember... I can't even remember. I know for certain I was with Berkley. We got dressed at work, dropped my car off at home, and went to the club and after that...nothing.
Everything on my body feels heavy and every movement of my eyes stings like I'm blinking glass while my brain feels like it's pounding against the walls of my skull, searching for a way out. My gaze foggily lands on the floor where a semi-familiar black dress and silver shoes are strewn carelessly across the hardwoods. Panic shoots through me like a lightning bolt, forcing my eyes wide to take in my surroundings.
I'm in my house, that's a good sign.
I hold my breath as I turn over in bed hoping against hope I'm in bed alone and thankfully I am. I let out the breath shakily and finally call Berkley's name. When he doesn't answer I call for him again only to be answered with the same silence as before.
Thanking the Lord I didn't do anything I'll regret last night I throw the covers back and ease out of bed. My head feels as heavy as the rest of my body like it's full of bricks rather than brains, making me immediately want to lie back down. I must've drank my weight in alcohol last night judging by the pungent smell of vomit in the air. I'm not sure where it is but I'm sure it's not in the toilet, I wouldn't smell it if it was.
Stepping one foot onto the floor the mystery of the rogue puke is solved as I slip and slide forward until I land in the gunk. I nearly vomit again seeing God knows what all over me but I hold it in.
"This day couldn't get any better," I grumble to myself sarcastically turning over to get up from the floor. My back, butt, and now hands and knees are covered forcing me to shower before I can clean anything up.
After a longer shower than I deserve I drag my cleaning supplies from my hall closet praying I haven't warped the floors leaving my... liquid on the floor all night. I'd never forgive myself if I lost my deposit because of an idiotic drunken mistake.
As I clean it seems my luck may be changing since the floors appear to be fine. It doesn't take me very long to free my room of the rancid smell and sight and inspect the rest of the house for anymore puddles.
Placing my cleaning supplies back in the hall closet I sigh deeply. I hate not being able to remember what I did after a night of partying. They don't say watch the shy girls for nothing, I can get a bit crazy. I normally never allow myself past two or three drinks, four if I ate heavily that day. I can't imagine what got into me but the thought crosses my mind as to how I could find out.
Drying my hands from the warm soapy water I rush to my room in search of my phone. The first thing I notice is it's not on my nightstand where I usually put it so I know the hunt is still on. I rack my brain trying to remember what purse I carried and where in the hell I put it. Memories of my silver clutch float through my mind in smoky wisps sending me in search of the infernal thing. As I hunt every crevice of my home I recall exactly why I normally carry huge purses. If I'm looking for them I damned sure can't miss 'em.
"Ah ha!" I yell out triumphantly, pulling the silver contraption out of the freezer. I don't even want to think about why it's here I'm just glad to find it. The metal casing is freezing but at least it isn't frozen shut.
Opening the clasp I find my phone face up as if it's staring back at me with disdain. With a push of the unlock button I key in my security code and unleash hell on my life.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that I was a drunk dialing fiend last night. One quick scroll through my outgoing calls reveals around ten phone calls to my various contacts as well as a lump sum of text messages, some of them in an indecipherable language.
The phone calls weren't so bad. I didn't call either of my parents, thank God, but I did call my siblings. From the look of the call times however none of them answered which only makes me wonder about the psycho voicemails I probably left them. I shudder at the thought. Amita and Damien, the last victims on my drunk dial spree, got a few calls a piece each lasting a bit longer than the last. I can only imagine the crazy things I said let alone the silly stuff they replied with. I notice the icons for missed calls and voicemails at the top of my screen but ignore it to get the rest of my humiliation over with.
My heart sinks as soon as I get to the text messages, my skin growing more and more heated as I read. Off first glance I see I've texted the 1D boys, each of their names in big bold letters yelling at me for my stupidity. As I read the texts I settle down a bit but mentally swear off drinking. I must have sent a group message because each of the conversations start out the same. I thank them for giving me their number and tell them they're music Gods and how much they deserve an Emmy.
I smack myself in the head for that one. I guess my drunk brain doesn't know musicians win Grammy's.
Their responses however are cool, all of them laughing and asking me in some variation if I'm drunk to which I answer with a simple yes and a smiling emoji. At least I'm honest, I guess. The conversations pretty much stop after each of them tell me in their own way to stop drinking and call Harry. I frown at their responses until I look down and see the number fifteen in bold beside Harry's name on the list, signaling I have fifteen unopened texts from him. Every fiber in my being sets ablaze reading the messages.
They go from him responding "Wait? What?" in response to me possibly calling him Sir to him asking if I changed my mind about coming over. I'm assuming I started drinking after his first response out of nervousness and drank so much I forgot to respond to his second.
Not long after his second response he apologized in case he offended me and let me know he was joking about the "Sir" thing. Apparently that set me off because I went off on a tangent about him playing with the feelings I have for him and how he's not being nice. He then responded by apologizing again saying he didn't mean to toy with my feelings because he didn't know I had any. I then yelled at him about being blind and asked him if his hair was so long it blocked his eyesight.
After that he must've called and I must've ignored it because he texted saying so and asked me to pick up the phone. I didn't respond so he sent another text asking if I had been drinking and begging me not to drive home in my condition. My text to him was me saying I was in fact drunk, for his information, and that I'd get home just fine. After that his texts were a variation of asking me if I was okay, pleading with me to call him back, and expressing his concern and worry for my wellbeing. I finally texted him back at almost four in the morning telling him I was trying to sleep and to stop calling me because it made my head go boom.
I guess that explains why I threw my purse in the freezer... I guess. I honestly have no explanation for my actions nor why I turn into an upset first grader when I'm intoxicated. The one thing I can say is I'm embarrassed. Not only for the way I acted but also and even more so because I admitted I had feelings for him. How in the fůck am I supposed to cover that up?
Backing out of the texting debacle I head over to my missed calls and see an uncountable number from him. They only stopped after I sent my scolding four a.m. text, pre-freezer incident. My voicemails from him mirror his text messages in their tone. He was clearly extremely worried and I just ignored him, making me feel like an even bigger aÅshat.
With shaking fingers I decide to text him because I'm too much of a coward to call. A simple, "Hi," is all I send hoping he won't be too upset with me.
Don't you 'hi' me. You're lucky I'm even responding.
I can't imagine him saying any of that with a straight face. It feels sarcastic in nature or maybe I'm reading too much into it hoping he's laughing it all off. My hopes are shattered with an incoming message.
I don't know if we should talk right now. Seriously.
I feel my heart lurch as if it'll detach from whatever is holding it in place. I can't play dumb as much as I want to. I want to say something witty that'll put a smile on his face and get me off the hook but I can't think of a thing. My brain struggles to create a sentence as I reply.
Why are you upset? Besides the obvious... which I'm sorry for by the way. I should've called to let you know I wasn't coming.
His reply is like rapid fire. I know then he's holding his phone waiting on my replies, fully invested in the conversation.
You think I'm pissed because you didn't come over? Don't insult me.
I contemplate writing him back but decide against it. I acted like a child all last night so I might as well pull on my big girl panties today. Trembles move my fingers to the call button and push it down. As the phone rings I try to even out my breathing so I won't sound too scared when he picks up. I can't stand the wait. I know he's holding the phone with the speed he was replying at and yet he lets it ring so long I resign in the fact that he's not going to answer.
"You lost him," the voice in my head chants, repeating it like a mantra created solely for the purpose of giving me a panic attack.
I start to ponder why it matters if I did just as I hear his voice on the other line.
"Hi," he says, his voice raspy like he just woke up.
I close my eyes at the sound, my nose burning as if I might cry. As shocked as I am by my body's reaction to him I can't think about it right now. "I thought you were letting it go to voicemail," I reply quietly.
"I thought about it," he answers sounding definite.
That hurts, I almost hiss at the sting but hold it in. "Well I'm glad you didn't," I chirp trying to pick up the energy of the conversation, "We need to finish our conversation. I want to know exactly what's got you so upset."
He sighs before speaking calmly, "Fine. I'm pissed because you let me think you drove home drunk. I was going out of my head worrying and there you were with your boss getting drunk at the club."
My thoughts fall back to my texts, I never told him who I was with or where we were. "How do you know any of that?" I ask slowly, still racking my brain for answers.
He laughs humorlessly, "He may not be an entertainer Bailey but the guy is still a celebrity of sorts. His pictures sell just like anyone else's, the two of you are all over the internet."
My eyes bulge at the news. Pulling my phone away from my ear for a moment I quickly Google Berkley and I. Sure enough there we are under a few different links to gossip sites. I take a few seconds to look at the pictures of us leaving the club, none of them are of me falling over drunk or being overly... anything so for that I'm glad. However he is holding me closely, probably for support but according to the magazines I'm two-timing on Harry with him. Opposite of the photos of Berkley and I are ones of Harry and I from the sushi restaurant we went to for lunch. The one most of the sites are using is of him feeding me. The comments are vicious as per usual so I scroll away from them as quickly as possible.
"I'm sorry Harry," I finally reply after closing my browser, "I had no idea there were even photos taken of us together."
He takes a moment before answering, "I couldn't care less about the pictures. I know the truth. It's just annoying that you ditched me and then tried to play me. I was really worried about you B."
At least I'm back to being B and not Bailey, it's a start. And now he's admitted he is upset I didn't come over. What am I supposed to do with that?
"I'm sorry you were worried Harry, truly. If I was sober I never would've led you to believe I was driving drunk, you know me. You know I'd never give you anxiety for no reason. And as far as me and Berkley hanging out, I fully intended to let you know plans had changed I just got caught up," I ramble on, feeling myself talking too much but my head is swimming and I can't stop, "He called me into his office after work and had outfits for me to wear and then he started undressing... I got overwhelmed."
He gasped quickly at the mention of clothes coming off. I should've stopped after the outfits, I know it. I'm blaming my word vomit on the alcohol still working it's way out of my system.
"So you won't even commit to this guy and yet you're so caught up in getting dressed in front of him that you forgot to have the decency to call me and let me know you weren't coming by?" he pronounces his words as if they deserve air quotes around it. "You had me thinking that I upset you or that something happened to you. When really you were just distracted by your part time boyfriend. Is he that overwhelming?"
As much as I hate jumping to conclusions the only one I can jump to now is jealousy. I'm sure he was worried for me, the proof is in his calls, but the annoyance and anger seem to stem from the company I was keeping while I could've been with him. Deciding against my better judgement I speak on it.
"Your jealousy is showing Harold," I state calmly.
The line goes nearly dead on his end. Pulling the phone from my ear I confirm the call is still connected and wait. He doesn't make me wait too long.
"I'm not jealous Bailey, I'm frustrated. It's not even about that. We had plans that went beyond what you knew. I rented out the theatre near my house so we could have a proper movie night as a birthday present. I didn't really get you anything and I wanted to surprise you," he explains, making me feel dumb.
"I'm sorry," I apologize immediately hoping it'll wipe some of the proverbial egg from my face.
I can imagine him shrugging his broad shoulders in that nonchalant way he does, "No problem. Next time though if you make plans with me, stick to them. I hate being disappointed just as much as you do."
I apologize again and explain, "I'm not used to being responsible for anyone else's feelings. I'm too accustomed to the freedom of not having to worry about anyone but myself."
"I can understand that I guess," he replies, sounding a bit more like himself.
"What movie were we going to watch?" I ask, playfulness in my voice.
He laughs, a welcomed sound after the way the conversation had been going, "I shouldn't even tell you, but Clue, your favorite."
My heart smiles along with my lips. I told him that in passing and yet he still remembered. Deciding to make it up to him I reply, "For that we're going out tonight, anywhere you want. It's on me."
His laughter graces my ears again. "Fine, but pack your checkbook and dress spiffy I have expensive tastes," he jokes, "I eat at a lot of restaurants with names I can't pronounce."
I smile brightly, "It's the only way to eat honestly. I'll meet you at your place around eight?"
"Sure, can't wait," he replies quickly, I can almost hear his smile.
I giggle involuntarily, it's like an overly exaggerated girlie reflex. "Goodbye Harold."
"Bye, B," he replies although neither of us hang up the phone.
I listen to him breathe on the other end as he does the same to me. I'm not sure why I'm not hanging up the phone, I don't know what I'm waiting for. As the silence between us extends I quiet the confusion in my brain and dwell on the thought that stands out above them all, we miss each other. It hasn't even been a full day but it feels like weeks and I miss him like mad.
It seems crazy that we wouldn't just start back talking instead of sitting here in silence like weirdos. However it's not the conversation we miss, it's the presence. Just being around each other makes me feel better, content even. It's the things he does involuntarily that remind me he's still there, that this is real. It may seem crazy to some but to us this is as normal as it gets.
Knowing that I hold the phone until we've both have our fill.
~*~
"I've already done my holiday shopping mother thank you very much," I interrupt. Stopping her before she goes on a twenty minute rant about the sale Target is having.
"Did you make sure you got your nieces and nephew something? At least a gift a piece," my dad interjects letting me know they have me on speaker phone.
I roll my eyes annoyed that he brought it up but more so that I forgot. I hardly see Mitch or James' kids so I always end up forgetting to get them anything. I'm a terrible aunt, sue me.
"I will daddy, I still have time it's only October," I reply, pulling my car to a stop.
I miss what someone says next because my car's Bluetooth cuts off once I open the car. Ignoring the talking coming from my cell I straighten my red Aztec printed shorts and pull down my white crop top so I'm not exposing too much. Bending over to grab my phone from my seat I push my cat eye sunglasses back up and place my bag in my arm. There was no way I was going to be able to even look outside without shades on today so I'm glad these have a pretty dark tint to them. Hitting the lock on my car I put my phone back to my ear.
"What'd you say mama I was getting out of the car?" I ask, not necessarily interested anyway. As much as I love my parents, they talk too much every time I call. And it's not like I'm stingy on how much I call them. I try to text them goodnight every night and after seeing how often Harry calls his mom I decided I'd call them at least every other day.
"I asked if you were going into the woods with all of those rich white people?" she mom asks again for clarification.
I laugh louder than I should gaining me a few stares as I walk into the store. Heat flares up my back in embarrassment. "Mommy hush," I reply quietly, "Zayn isn't white by the way."
I can hear her rolling her eyes from here. "Whatever. All I'm saying is be careful you don't know them like that. I was already uneasy about you living with Harry."
This time I roll my eyes. Putting an Aztec print muscle shirt back I respond, "It's not like it was permanent, I'm safe and sound back in my own condo now. And what do you mean be careful? What do you think they're going to do? It's not like they need a sacrificial virgin or something." I laugh and hear my dad join in over the speaker phone.
"You never know," he yells with humor in his tone.
"Your really don't," my mom cuts in, worry thick in her voice, "I know all about that illuminati shit."
I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep in my laughter.
Once I can get myself together I rush out, "Ma stop worrying. I've got to go but I love you both very much. I'll text you before we leave and call when we get back okay?"
After a few moments she concedes, "Okay. I love you baby."
"Love you boobear!" My dad yells still not understanding the concept of speaker phone.
I gave up on explaining to him he can speak in a normal voice, especially since his is pretty booming already. Teaching technology to old people is hard. The same thing happened when I taught them both to text. They still sign each message with Mommy or Daddy at the end as if there's no caller ID for texting and it drives me crazy. That memory reminds me of Harry and I smile as I hang up the phone and place it in my knock off Chanel.
Thinking about all of the knock off bags I have I almost laugh. They're pretty believable too. Unless you're super into the label I'm carrying you'd be fooled. It's funny to me the first thing I looked for when I moved here was a good "bag lady." I had one back in Texas named Rhonda that got me all of the bags I'd give away as Christmas gifts. My bag lady here is actually a man that goes by the street name, Michael Jackson. I thought he was kidding at first too but then I remembered this is Hollywood.
Grabbing a paisley print kimono from the hanger I inspect the colors. It has the perfect mixture of dark and light tan in the print as well as black in the form of fringe to go with the rest of my outfit for tonight. Although I came in for a bag I could use on the camping trip it seems this thrift store had more planned for me. It doesn't take me long to browse the rest of the store and fine a brown leather backpack I can carry on our trip.
Leaving the store with my purchases I drop them off in my car before heading to the next store, a small boutique named Lily's. Walking in I'm in heaven. The shoes against the back wall in a brightly lit white display catch my attention first.
"Hi, welcome to Lily's," a friendly woman with brown hair and freckles across her nose greets. "Can I help you find anything today?"
Before she can even finish her statement I'm nodding. I hand her the black ankle strap heel I'm clutching, "I need a pair of these in a size nine if you don't mind. And I'm praying you have them, I need them for tonight."
She takes the shoe with a smile, "Not a problem, if you'll take a seat I'll be right back with the box."
Rushing to a seat I can't help my smile. Fate has to be shining down to have places the perfect shoes in my path. They're going to hurt like hell, I can feel the ache already, but the fringe hanging from the ankle strap is the perfect tie in for the kimono I just bought.
"Here you are," Holly, as her name tag reads, says handing me the box. "These will be perfect for date night."
I start to correct her but instead I smile and thank her for grabbing the shoes for me. "This isn't a date," I say in my head as I slip the shoes on. I'm not even kidding myself by trying to fake as if I'm not treating it like it is one.
Walking over to the full length mirror against the wall I can see my entire outfit pieced together in my head. My hair in carefree waves, gold accessories, a black bralette crossing in the front then leading to sexy cutouts on the sides, a draped dark tan skirt pulled high enough that I don't show too much of my stomach with a thigh high split that shows plenty of leg, these fantastic shoes, and my kimono for a bit of modesty. I'd keep my makeup how it is now, nothing but eyeliner, mascara, and a light lip gloss. Throw in one of my black clutches I have at home and the look of the night is complete.
The pain radiating from the balls of my feet bring me back to the present and force me to make a mental note not to stand too much tonight. It's for the best since I doubt Harry could carry me back to the car. Slipping out of the shoes and back into my moccasins I place them in their box and carry them over to the register for Holly to hold. I still need to grab a few things for the camping trip and luckily for me they still have their swimsuits and shorts out.
A pair of light blue shorts that cuff at the bottom catch my eye and I hesitate on whether I should put them back or not. Holding them up to me I see they'll be pretty short and I don't want my aÅs falling out. My butt isn't huge but when the world started praising big butts rather than shaming them I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief. I've always had thick shapely thighs and more than a handful of ass to match so I definitely wouldn't be passing any "wall tests".
Before I head to the register I figure I should get a bathing suit, just in case. My eyes flutter across the array of colors, shapes, and styles. It's a sea of padded tops and skimpy bottoms. Off instinct I reach for only tankini in sight but retract almost instantly.
I was always self-conscious about my tummy, even in high school when I was "skinny." I never wore anything that showed my stomach off, especially not a bikini. But now, I've worked so hard for this body I feel it'd be a crime not to show it off at least a little.
Taking a chance I grab a strapless bikini top with a crazy pattern and two mesh squares along the bottom. It's sort of a bustier style so it should hold the girls up nicely. The bottoms I grab are solid black with matching mesh on the sides and two straps that are supposed to rest against your waist. A quick look at the time alerts me that I don't have the time to try them on if I want to keep shopping so I decide to take the chance and just buy them. If I can't fit them Amita can, I still haven't picked up her or Damien's Christmas presents anyway.
Humming along to the Kelly Clarkson song they're playing I continue to shop. Before I know it the song is over and I have everything I'll need for the trip. A grey crop t-shirt, a white flowy sleeveless top, a beanie, the pair of light blue shorts from before, a pair of dark blue distressed shorts, and a loose grey sweater, just in case it gets cold.
Holly and I share meaningless small talk at the register, mostly her being too nosey and me feigning obliviousness to her nosiness. She was sweet however and offered me a discount and invited me to partake in their store's online survey. I agreed and left the store a couple hundred dollars poorer.
~*~
I realized something about my past recently. I always changed in relationships whether for good or bad. Not that I've done terribly with men or gaining their attention, it's been quite the opposite, it's just the ones who I wanted never really wanted me. Of course the biggest fail of my life was Charlie but there were others before him and like a trooper I kept going until I ran into him, the destroyer.
I have to say though, I'm glad I did cross paths with him. He forced me to take a look at myself in the mirror and see who I had become. I was like a puzzle put together with pieces that didn't come from the same box, the picture couldn't ever be cohesive. I'd romanticize and justify it in my head, listening to him calling it love even though he knew it wasn't. I kept trying to fit more pieces in, trying to change myself until he liked what he saw, until I did. I was weak then and he knew it, he proved it every time his actions made me add another piece.
The thoughts roll away taking the anger building inside with them as my mind wanders into the present and land at Harry's proverbial doorstep. He's never asked me to change, never made me feel like I was anything but more than enough just the way I am. I love that about him. I love that about our relationship.
I always feel strange calling our friendship a relationship. It's like I'm building it up, playing make believe in my mind again. But if I'm being honest the line between us keeps getting smaller and smaller. As hard as my mind is pulling me away from edging closer to his side of the line my heart is fighting even harder against it. It's foreign for my heart to even be in the conversation. Since Charlie it's been on a hiatus that felt so permanent I struggled to hear it beat. Now I hear it loud and clear every time a certain chocolate haired man sneaks into my mind. He pulled my heart out of retirement and what scares me more than anything is how little I'm even fighting it anymore.
Looking up I see Italian sprawled across the top of a small older looking restaurant. I've missed everything Harry's been talking about the trip here if he's been saying anything at all, I don't know.
I watch him walk around the front of the car to my side. His hair extremely curly and parted to the side, a full black from head to toe ensemble, he looks dashing as usual.
"Ristorante Italiano Solitario," I attempt the restaurant's name in broken Italian as he helps me from my side of the Audi.
He laughs closing the door behind me, my hand still in his hand. "I think it's a little too much Southern twang on it."
I roll my eyes at him as he repeats the name in a slightly less broken version of the language. "Did you ask Siri how to say that?"
His face reddens offering an answer where he doesn't, opting for opening the door of the restaurant instead.
I laugh but stop suddenly taking in the look of the eatery. The wall facing the ocean is nearly all glass so we can see the waves crashing onto the shore. A small glassed in deck with hanging lights above it rests just outside giving you an even closer view of the water without the hazard of getting wet. The entire restaurant seems to be lit with twinkle lights. It's not so dark you can't see but dimly lit enough that the atmosphere is intimate. That combined with Harry re-holding my hand after he opened the door is making this feel like more and more of a date.
"This is beautiful Harry," I whisper as our host walks us over to our table in the center of the wall of windows.
He smiles down at me but doesn't reply until he's ordered a bottle of white wine, pulled my chair out and is seated in his own. "I thought you'd like it. I know how you like Italian and this place has the best I've tried, aside from in Italy."
I make a face at him causing a smile to rise on his.
"What?" he asks taking a sip of his water.
"You," I accuse rolling my eyes before mocking him in a terrible British accent, "Oh look at me I'm Harry Style and I've been to every continent on the planet. Blah Italian food from Italy blah."
He laughs quietly shaking his head. "Your jealousy is showing B."
My eyes bulge at his use of my own words against me before they dart around the table for something to throw at him.
"This is a nice restaurant are you sure you want to start a food fight? I'm down either way," he states reading my mind or my body language whichever he knows better. Then again maybe he just knows me.
I roll my eyes, sitting back with an unintentional smile. "Get out of my head Houdini."
He smirks, his right dimple an adorable spectacle on display, and shrugs his shoulders.
Our waiter comes over to the table with the wine Harry ordered and accompanying glasses. As he poured each of us a glass he asks about our order.
Unsure of what his rush is I grab my menu. He could've asked if we wanted appetizers or something, it's not like the place is packed. The only other couple here seems to be wrapping their meal up. I shake the thought away and glance at the menu only to find everything is in Italian. As authentic as it may be the shįt is annoying to my uncultured asÅ. One look up to Harry has him smiling and ordering for us both.
"Thank you," I say once Todd, our waiter leaves, "I was beyond lost."
He shrugs, "I used one of those translator apps the first time I came here. I eat pretty much the same thing so I never had to use it again."
I shake my head, a smile planted on my face, he's as bad as me with these apps for everything.
"You were saying earlier you found a bag for the camping trip?" he leads, starting conversation where there was none.
I nod, remembering our conversation once I made it to his house. "Yeah, it's brown leather and pretty spacious so I can hold everything and if it rains my shįt won't be ruined."
"Right," he laughs, "I remember our trip two years ago that same thing happened to Louis, I've never seen him so pissed. It didn't help any that Liam kept bringing it up the whole ride back home."
I smile at the fondness he holds for the memory. "Is this something yall do every year?"
He nods, taking a sip of his wine, "We go before every tour. Kind of like a retreat I guess, get a little calm before all of the crazy."
"I can only imagine. Yall do a concert nearly every night when you're on tour. I'd be exhausted," I confess taking a sip from my own glass. The flavors are sweet and crisp against my tongue.
"It gets pretty tiring. But since this is just a small one before we go on break it shouldn't be too bad. It's only a couple of months compared to the usual so it'll be a breeze," he describes, his eyes looking slightly tired just talking about it.
"Hey," I declare intent on distracting him from his thoughts. Cutting a piece of cheese covered garlic bread I offer it to him on the end of my fork, "Want to try?"
His eyebrow raises before he leans across the table and wraps his bubble gum lips around the fork making the bread disappear.
Somehow the act makes my heart skip a beat. He nods indicating he likes it before offering a bite of his plain garlic bread to me.
The same fascination he had on his face when he fed me sushi flits across again. It seems Mr. Styles has a bit of an oral fixation, at least when it comes to things going into my mouth. I don't know what to make of that.
All I know is we're chest deep in 'date' waters and I don't know how to swim. And the way he's staring at me, watching me like prey, he's proficient in aquatic activities. His green eyed gaze is smoldering setting me afire in my seat, my legs crossing tightly of their own free will. My heart is beating so loudly in my ears it's like it lives there now. I can't hear my own breathing, as he stares into my soul handpicking the spot he intends to reside in. My body is calling for him in every way, growing tired of the struggle to resist.
However before either of us can do something we could regret a family being seated catches our attention, breaking the spell between us. The couple seems to be married judging by the rock on the brown haired woman's dainty finger. The man slicks his hand back through his short black hair as his wife gets their adorable daughter into a booster seat. She can't be any older than two with dark chocolate eyes and deep dimples in her fat little cheeks, delicate chestnut brown hair covers her head. She smiles over at Harry and I waving like we're old friends so we wave back. Her parents follow her line of sight and hold their hands up apologetically but we wave them off.
"She's absolutely adorable," I gush grabbing my wine glass. I can't help but think she looks like a cross between Harry and I, however I push the thought down as fast as it popped up.
Harry nods in agreement, sitting back in his chair. His eyes land on the waving little girl and then back to me. "Do you want kids?"
I nearly spit my wine out, choking on the delicious liquid.
Waiting for me to calm down he laughs, "I guess that's my answer. Are you alright?"
I nod taking another drink of the traitorous liquid garrote. "I'm fine but no, I don't think I want kids. I guess... I don't know. I'm indifferent about them."
He raises an eyebrow, "How so?"
"I suppose if I married a guy who wanted kids I'd have them but if for some reason we couldn't or he didn't want them I don't think I'd be missing out on anything," I admit with a shrug. I never really put much thought into it. I just know I don't necessarily like kids so why put pressure on myself to have them.
His eyebrows raise in surprise. "I would've thought with your nieces and nephew you'd be itching to have kids of your own."
I grin at him across the candlelight, "Sorry Houdini everyone doesn't turn into the actual sun when kids are in the room. I don't particularly like them and they don't particularly like me, it's a mutual thing."
He shakes his head, dimples lighting his features, "You'll see, the second you hold your own in your arms you're going to eat all of that shįt you're talking."
I cover my mouth as I laugh, my stomach hurting by the time I'm done. "Whatever," I defend, rolling my eyes, "I wouldn't even know what to do with a baby let alone a kid and lord forbid a teenager."
"Why?" he asks, a mischievous smile lighting his lips, "Where you a bad girl as a teenager B?"
My shoulders shake with laughter as I answer, "Nope, quite the opposite but you know how they say that skips a generation."
He laughs and I continue, "No, honestly I kind of didn't have the time to be a crazy teenager, my parents made dÄmned sure of that."
The food arrives then, lasagna for me and shrimp alfredo for him. Todd refreshes our bread bowl and then leaves as efficiently as he arrived.
"What do you mean by what you said?" Harry asks, not letting it go, "Were they really strict or something?"
I swallow a piece of lasagna first, the meat and sauce pairing beautifully in my mouth. "You were right this is delicious," I declare before answering him, "And to answer your question, they were more so... driven than strict. I mean don't get me wrong I got away with nothing and got to do very little but it was all in alignment with the goals they wanted me to reach not just for the sake of it. I was a very determined kid and not by my own volition. I didn't really have a normal teenage experience I guess."
He nods his head in understanding before expressing it verbally, "I get it, they wanted better for you. I understand that loss though. When I auditioned for X-Factor I was just a kid and then the fame took me, took all of us really. It felt like I went to bed as Harry and woke up Harry Styles of One Direction. Everything I did from then on wasn't a mistake of my own, it was the world's mistake to see, and the other boys and the fan's mistake to carry. I'd get labeled a bad role model instead of a kid who was just trying to figure it all out. Trust me, I know all about abnormal teenage experiences."
I smile, trying to brighten the conversation, "At least yours came with perks, you've had Italian food from Italy."
He grins at me, his eyes looking deeper and darker than they are in natural lighting. "You'll have it too then, I'll take you myself."
My heart beats twice in succession instead of the standard once as if to alert me of what he's offering. "Seriously?" I inquire, trying not to sound as thirsty for world travel as I secretly am.
"Of course," he replies with assurance, "We can go as soon as I get back from the tour if you'd like."
My mind is racing with the possibilities, "I'd love to, thank you Harry. I'll have to make sure I have time off but yes I'd love to go."
"You should go for the things you want in life no matter what, it's too short not to," he advises taking another bite of food.
I see he's almost done compared to my nearly full plate but I doubt I'll be able to eat with the excitement of Italy rolling around in my belly. "There're a million things I should do but only a few I will," I confess, digging into my own plate, forcing myself to eat.
Wiping his mouth he sits back and reaches for his wine glass before implementing more life lessons, "If you'd quit that job you secretly hate and do what you love you'd have plenty of time to do everything you should and some of what you shouldn't."
I notice the glimmer of trouble in his eyes and wonder just what it is he's thinking about. "And how do you suppose I do that Harold?"
He waves his hand out before retorting, "You had a meeting and a contract did you not? What happened with that? You never fully said."
My heart drops from the feet in the air the mention of the Italy trip took it to the ground. I've been avoiding talking to him about the book because I still have no clue what I want to do about it.
Jordan from Pebbles Publishing has been relentless, emailing me nearly every day about signing however when I suggest which book should be my first release he always worms his way back to Fresh Start. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see they want me only because they think my book is about the relationship I have with Harry which makes me not want anything to do with them. I could never let them use him and moreover I could never let them use me. Although I may not be the most talented writer ever I know my worth and it's a hell of a lot more than a gimmick writer.
The only reason I haven't told them to shove it is because I'm only human and a part of me wants to be selfish and take the deal. I've been battling with that side of me, battling with the worry that it makes me a bad person to even entertain the betrayal. And after seeing how Harry reacted to this morning's fiasco there's no way he wouldn't react worse to the book. My heart almost broke out of fear of the thought of losing him this morning, there's no way I wouldn't lose him if I did this. But is it worth it? Is it worth it holding onto him if I'm never going to do anything about it? Being anything more with him would be in constant jeopardy because... well, I'm me. So is it really worth all of the trouble?
"Hello," Harry croons, waving his hand in front of my face until our eyes connect, "There you are. Where'd you go just now?"
I smile lightly as if I wasn't just thinking heavily, contemplating life and it's meaning. Just as I'm about to answer a waitress walks over and asks for his autograph and a photo. She's a petite girl, caramel skin with wild natural curls piled atop her head, the perfect distraction.
Watching them interact, seeing how much he cares for his fans and knowing how much we care for him I make my decision. Tomorrow morning I'm going to call Jordan and tell him the deal is off the table as long as they keep pushing Fresh Start. Eventually I'll publish it but not right now. I need more time, more of a connection with Harry, something more... real so that when I tell him he'll be able to see past the surface and know my true intentions, I hope.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall liked the chapter!! Sorry it took so damned long! There's a lot going on in my life right now with school so yeah. Hopefully everything made sense and I didn't mess up at all/too much but I've been writing since 1 a.m. so forgive me :)
This chapter's Question...
How are yall like the book so far? Any changes you'd like to see?
This chapter's goal...
I wanted to show off the fact that it's not just B that's falling hard. She's a little oblivious but who wouldn't be if all you've dealt with in the past are people who played mind games? You also get a bit of glimpse into her past, her ideas about a future with Harry, and just all around Bailey-ness. She can be a bit of a negative Nancy but it's VERY hard to be positive w/o hope, and that's where she is. She's not broken and this won't be a story about Harry "fixing" her (I don't believe in that, people being able to fix each other) it's more about her finding her way with him by her side in whatever capacity she needs him there, if that makes sense.
This chapter's song...
Down For You by Kehlani. I just found this artist and I think she's pretty dope. Initially the chapter's song was going to be another Jhene Aiko song (I fůck with her HEAVY yall lol) but then I remembered a song by Kehlani I love called Niggas which is 100% Bailey's feelings especially after Charlie but it wouldn't fit this chapter totally so I went with Down For You. As soon as I heard it I was like, "Yeah this is the one." It had that falling in love yet hesitant to love kind of vibe to it without being too deep. So I hope yall felt/enjoyed it!
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: dtaylor96, Tas_ce, Andrewsgirl19, elirice90, jessica1028, littleninjamari, fleek236, AriannaHx3, twinskelotens, Christel2448, Sweetkid89 and CarmenAnette!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Invite your friends to read and follow and leave me some feedback in the comments!! I love hearing from yall!!!!
Until Next Time,
WBN