The next morning.
The sun was peeking through unfamiliar curtains as I reluctantly pulled my eyes open. I was far too warm, my mouth felt fuzzy and my head was pounding. I tried to turn onto my back when suddenly a body shifted behind me.
Fuck.
Memories of last night began to flood my mind as images of Harry fucking Styles danced around in my vision. Harry in a club. Harry dancing. Harry climbing over me in the back seat of a taxi. Harry in his fucking mansion of a house. Harry in his bed. Me in his bed.
I peek under the thick white duvet, being extra careful not to disturb his arm that is draped across my stomach. Yip naked. Fucking great. My naked state confirming my memories from last night. I clench my thighs together, a dull ache in my thighs confirming the memories too. Not that there was anything wrong with one night stands or casual sex. Just having sex with Harry Styles was not something I aspired to. Having sex with a freaking multimillionaire pop star was not part of my grand plans for my life. What if someone found out about this and suddenly I was hated by One Direction fans and journalists trawled my Facebook page all the way back to those cringey pictures of me in Magaluf circa 2008. That's the last thing I need in my life. I was quite happy, plodding my way through life. I had a decent job, a steady income, a roof over my head, enough friends that I still had a semi respectable social life and I still got on with my parents. I was happy in my life, I didn't need anything to change that.
I took a deep breathe. I need to get out of here before he wakes up and regrets last night, or worse: throws me out. I glance down towards the floor to see most of my clothes scattered across his sumptuous grey carpet. His house was totally different to what I would have guessed a multimillionaires house to be like. Although it was large, it still felt homey. It was filled with interesting artwork and cosy looking furniture. Yes there was signs of wealth, like the grand piano sitting at the bottom of the stairs. But it had a cosy, homely vibe to it. Something I wasn't expecting.
I sneak a peak at a sleeping Harry. He looks so peaceful as he lies on his front, his face turned towards me and soft snores accompanying his slow breathing. His lips are pouty and extremely kissable. Morning breath mixed with the urge to get the hell out of here means I resist the urge to press my lips to his. He looks adorable, his features relaxed as he sleeps peacefully. Unaware of my impending departure.
Slowly I drag my naked body across his soft-as-shit sheets, quickly scooting the pillow under Harry's arm. I freeze as he grunts and his arm twitches, pulling the pillow to his chest. For a second it gives me butterflies that in his sleepy state he's trying to pull me closer. Then I remember this was a one night stand and he probably doesn't even remember my name. As quick as a flash I pull on all the clothes that I can find. My bra is the only thing I can't find and I'm running out of time. Fuck it. I'll leave it. It was expensive and thankfully matched my pants I have on, but I'll just buy another. It'll be money well spent just to get the hell out of here. I grab my bag and slip out his bedroom door before I make any more noise. I glide quietly down the stairs staring at the art work that adorns the walls.
"Jesus, this place is magical" I mumble as I find my way back to the grand piano. I run a longing finger over the top before I unlock the front door and disappear from the house. The snib clicks as I pull it closed behind me. The cold autumn wind blowing my messy hair around my face. I didn't even look in a mirror before I left the house. God knows what I look like. Probably a disgrace and every single person I pass will know I'm doing the walk of shame. I pull my hair out of its bobble, attempt to scrap it back, tossing my head this way and that, trying to get it to play ball. I eventually knot it on top of my head and make my way down Harry's pebbled driveway towards the gate, which is a lot easier to get out than it is to get in. I remember giggling at Harry as he struggled to keep his hands off of me for long enough to punch the code in. I glance back at the white brick house, committing it to memory before I leave, promising never to return.
*
"You. Shagged. Harry Styles!" Allison screams in excitement, later that evening as she sits at my dinner table, eating as much Chinese take-out as we can manage.
"Oh shut up" I sigh. "It's not that big a deal" I shrug trying to downplay it. Despite what Allison said being true, it didn't feel like it was that big a deal. "I just drunkenly slept with some guy I met at a club, people do it all the time. It's not a big thing" trying desperately to justify my out-of-character actions.
After getting back from Harry's this morning I jumped straight into the shower to wash all evidence of my dirty night of pleasure. With freshly washed hair I tackled the house work, gutting the flat top to bottom. Someone speaking as a completely 3rd party objector with absolutely no personal interest in the matter might say I was using cleaning as a distraction technique to stop me dwelling on last night's actions. I would say they were wrong and my flat was just really grubby.
"It's a massive thing. He's Harry fucking Styles!" She beams, laughing at my discomfort.
"Stop saying his name like that."
"Like what?" She looks at me innocently.
"Like he's some mega famous pop star"
"But he is some mega famous pop star!"
"I know! but it didn't feel like that last night, he was just some normal guy I met at a club. ITS NOT A BIG DEAL" I whine hoping she gets my point.
"Ok, ok" She holds her palms up in surrender. "But please tell me you got his number, or at least gave him yours" Allison pleads.
I disappoint her by shaking my head.
"What?" She gasps in disgust.
"It was just a one time thing. He would never call me anyway so what would be the point in giving him my number, for me to obsess over his lack of communication and then be put off his music for the rest of my life because I'd be reminded of the one that got away. No thanks. Better this way"
Allison snorts at my rambley response. "Ok, whatever helps you sleep at night. I think you made a mistake not giving him your number. And for the record, you didn't listen to his bloody music anyway"
"Well it's too late now" I stuff my mouth full of crispy shredded chicken, bringing that particular conversation to an end. And giving Allison the chance to start telling me all about Hawaii 5-0. It turns out she definitely gave Michael her number and they've already got a date planned for next weekend.
*
And just like that life goes back to normal.
I go to work on Monday as normal. Back to my job as a graphic designer. A place where no one knows who I slept with at the weekend and I keep it that way. Julie at reception would kill to know I slept with a pop star. And unless I want everyone this side of the Thames to know about my weekend antics, I gladly keep it to myself.
In fact absolutely nothing changes. For a while, a whole 7 weeks, life stays the exact same. As if I'd never had a one night stand with a disgustingly sexy, FAMOUS musician. 7 weeks go by with, unsurprisingly, no contact, in fact so much time goes by I stop thinking about his mind blowing mouth on my body, or his magical fingers enticing noises from me I didn't even know I could make. 7 weeks go by and it stops becoming the focus of Allison and I's conversations. 7 weeks go by and I almost forget all about it.
Until the day I have to pitch a bid to a massive hotel chain. A bid in which I'd be there lead designer for a massive rebrand and marketing campaign. 7 weeks later and my world as I know it, comes crashing down around me.
* Â Â Â Â Â * *
October 2018
"Nora? Anyone home?" I hear Allison's voice call from the front door as she lets herself in with the spare key I gave her for emergency purposes when I first moved in, but which she now just uses to let herself in and out my flat whenever she likes.
"In here" I grumble from my current position. She opens the bathroom door to find me with my forehead resting against my arm which is fetchingly draped around the rim of the toilet seat.
"Shiiiit, you look rough. Are you okay?" She asks crouching down beside me, placing a cold hand against my sweaty forehead. Dressed still in my ratty pyjamas, my shoulder length, wavy hair plastered to my forehead and down the back of neck I must be a sight for sore eyes.
"Fine. I think it's just nerves" I mumble as my stomach finally begins to settle itself and I find the balance to lift my head a little.
"Nerves?" Allison asks dubiously
"Yeah, I've got this big pitch to Forntam Hotels today" I attempt to push myself up so I'm no longer sprawling on the bathroom floor. As much as I enjoy keeping my house clean, I don't imagine the bathroom floor is the most hygienic place to lie.
Nerves are something that have never affected me this badly before. Though granted I've never had to pitch my work, my ideas, to this important a company before. This is a massive thing for me and the company I work for. As cliche as it sounds, if I get this pitch it will definitely put me 'on the map' in terms of generating more work for me. And it means a shit ton of money once the work has been completed.
My body temperature eventually cools and I feel a little more human again. I quickly brush my teeth and Allison follows me into my bedroom and plops herself on my bed while I get ready for work.
"I thought we could stop off and get breakfast before work" She suggests. Allison works just a few buildings down from where my office is so most days we walk to and from work together, dissecting each other's work gossip and bitching about Allison's new nemesis at work: Petra.
"Oh I don't think I could manage breakfast. I had a slice of toast earlier and... let's just say I don't have that toast any longer"
"Lovely!" Allison laughs. "Are you sure it's just nerves? You're not sick or something..." She trails off.
"Pretty sure" I nod, applying a bit more concealer and blush than normal to give my pale skin a bit of colour. "I only had pizza for dinner so I'm pretty sure it's not food poisoning. And I feel fine otherwise" I shrug as I apply some mascara and squirt some perfume.
I grimace as the strong scent of the perfume makes me gag.
"I think I sprayed that in my mouth" I scowl, taking a swig of water from the bottle beside my bed.
Peering at the bottle incase I lifted the wrong one. Realising it's the same scent I always use, I frown.
"What's wrong?" Allison asks, noticing my confusion.
"It just smells different. Stronger or something" I shrug replacing the bottle on my dressing table. Allison looks at me dubiously but let's it go. The walk to work is a cold one, but a quick one, my nose and cheeks are red by the time I step into my building.
The morning flys by and suddenly it's lunch time and I'm heading to the station to catch a tube to Fortnam Hotel's flagship hotel in Hampstead. I get off one stop early so I can stop for a juice at a little juice bar I found a couple months ago. I look at my watch as I wait on my Kiwi and Kale Juice Boost and realise I'm almost 40 minutes early for my meeting. I wonder if I have any friends in the area that I could meet for half an hour. Then I snort with laughter, which attracts a lot of strange looks from the juicing community, when I realise the only person I know in this area was a man I slept with 2 month ago and I'm pretty sure he's not the type of person you catch up with for half an hour over a jumped up Kiwi smoothie, then abandon for a life changing meeting.
The thought of seeing Harry again arouses my senses I know it would be awkward as all hell. He probably wouldn't even remember me but it would be nice to see that grin again. I dismiss the thought as quickly as it comes. I get my juice and leave. Taking a long walk to Hampstead.
I manage to waste 25 minutes dawdling and looking in shop windows so I arrive only 15 minutes early. I'm shown into a function suite that's set up for meetings. I'm directed to the projector and invited to set up my stuff. I drag my Mac out of my bag and set up the technical side of my presentation. I take all my pre-made mockups out of my bag: Menu's, information cards, room service menu's and place them around the large board meeting table to accompany my presentation. Everything about this room oozes wealth, from the plush carpet to the mahogany table to the two 65 inch tv's in 2 corners of the room, hooked up to the projector I'm using. If I can pull this off then it'll be a major deal for me. If I can't then I'll go back to designing graphics for local dog walkers websites and business cards.
I smooth out the imaginary creases on my black pencil skirt. I've accompanied it with a sheer black shirt that reminds me heavily of a certain tattoo'd pop star. Unlike Harry, I've got a black slip underneath. I've got my hair pinned low in what I hope is a sophisticated chignon. I'm wearing my modest, black patent court shoes which I hope pull my outfit together to showcase me as reliable, knowledgeable and professional. Oh and hireable! But only time will tell.
And times does tell. My meeting lasts 3 hours, the last hour is taken up with the head of their marketing team and finance team firing question after question at me about design empathy, localisation and brand story-telling. Each question I answer with ease, using knowledge I've accumulate in my past 5 years as a graphic designer. I showcase my designs to the best of my ability. And eventually, they smile, fold over my portfolio, shake my hand and tell me they'll be in touch. As they leave the room I flop down in the nearest chair and feel the biggest urge to cry. And I'm not a crier. I'm just so glad it's over, I gave it my best shot and it's out of my hands now. I give myself 2 minutes to pull myself together then go about clearing up my stuff and heading home.
I finally make it home shortly after 5pm and I'm dead on my feet. I kick my shoes off the second I step over the threshold and relish in the cold wood against my sweaty feet. An even bigger sense of relief is when I pull my tights down and pull off my skirt. The tights were digging in something awful. I tug on my pyjamas and head to the kitchen. I pull out a pack of chicken and all the ingredients for a stir fry. I heat the wok as I hear the front door.
"Only me" I hear Allison call.
"In here" I yell back and a second later she appears at the door with her bright yellow rain coat on.
"It's raining" She muttered, shaking rain drops onto my kitchen floor and taking off her coat.
"I know, I could smell it" I answered, adding my chicken to the sizzling pan.
"You could smell it?"
I nod towards the open window. "Yip, smells like rain"
"Ooookay, weirdo" Allison laughs draping her jacket over the back of one of my dining tables. I'm not really sure this space constitutes as a dining room but there was a big bit of dead space between the hall and kitchen so I stuck in a small 4 seated table and made it an extra room. It's a tight squeeze but it works for me, and Allison, who finds herself over at my flat more than her own.
As I absentmindedly stir the chicken the same feeling of nausea I had this morning sweeps over me. The smell of the half cooked chicken is suddenly overwhelmingly strong.
"Oh shit" I mumble
"What's wrong?" Allison shouts as I dart from the kitchen. I make it to the bathroom just in time to empty the contents of my stomach. Which is not a lot I realise when I remember I didn't really have any lunch.
"Nor' are you ok?" Allison pops her head in as I finally stop heaving. Like the doll she is she hands me a glass of cold water.
"Small sips" She reminds me like a mother hen.
"I don't know what happened there. This smell of the chicken was just... I don't even know, it was just too... chickeny?" I look up at her knowing I sound ridiculous but I don't know how else to describe it.
"That's the second time today you've been sick, and you're never sick, are you sure you're okay?" She asks as she crouches down beside me. She rubs a soothing hand over my back as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Like the proper lady I am. I wipe the saliva on the fluffy leg of my pyjama trousers, feeling better I push myself off the floor. Allison stands to face me. One of the things I love about Allison is, if she knows we won't be leaving the flat, she comes over dressed in the comfiest clothes she has, which usually means jogging bottoms and an oversized sweatshirt. She still looks like a model, but it doesn't put me to shame when I'm dressed in baby pink cat print pyjama bottoms and a gigantic threadbare t-shirt that I've owned for at least 8 years.
"I don't know" I shrug looking at my reflection in the mirror, the colour slowly returning to my cheeks. "I feel fine, until suddenly I don't and I have to be sick. Maybe it's just a bug"
"But you feel fine otherwise?" Allison asks, concern lacing her delicate features.
I nod, pursing my lips together.
"I know what you're going to say" Allison begins warily. "But think about it ok..."
I wait for her to continue.
"Do you think you could be pregnant?"
"No!" I answer immediately, giving the ridiculous notion no real consideration.
"Are you sure? I mean, the random sickness, overpowering smells... when was your last period?"
I attempt the maths in my head, "... like 4 weeks ago? Maybe? I'm sure it's due this week. It's not late" I answer adamantly while fishing my phone from my pocket. I open my Flo Tracker App and swipe back to the previous month, but there's nothing noted. I swipe to the month before and the 4 dots appear at the beginning of the month, just like they do every month because I'm a religious period tracker. I couldn't have forgot last month.
The sinking feeling arrives in my stomach along with nausea. I'm late.
"My last period ended 9 weeks ago" I answer dumbfounded. How did I not realise I was late? I'm been so busy with this fucking pitch for work that I didn't even notice my period was 5 weeks late. FUCK.
"When did you last have sex?" Allison asks warily. Scared of the answer.
"... 7 weeks ago" I mumble
"With?" Allison asks, knowing the answer but needing the verbal confirmation.
"Harry Styles" I whisper.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck" I start pacing the small bathroom. Allison wedged between the sink and the bath watches me take 3 steps one way and 3 steps the other for a few minutes before she jumps into action.
"Right, no point in worrying till we know for sure" Allison's states, sheparding me out of the room.
"Stick some trousers on and we'll walk round to Sainsbury's" She directs me towards my room while she goes to get her coat.
"Can I not just stay here?" I whine
"Nope. If I leave you here you'll drive yourself insane with worry. Come on" She gestures at me to hurry up. "It'll only take 10 minutes then we'll know for sure"
"Allll' what have I done" I whine as I change into a pair of leggings, only slightly better than my pyjama pants. Pulling my navy coat on, I meet Allison at my front door. Purse in hand we head to the local Sainsbury's Local, round the corner.
"What one will I get?" I whisper as Allison twists the more expensive of the two pregnancy tests that the local store sell, around in her hands.
"This one" Allison holds it out to me. 'Clearblue' states the box in big bold writing. "There's no going wrong with this one. It's either a yes or a no. I think those ones can say give you false reading" She nods towards the cheaper one in my hand which I swiftly dump back on the shelf.
"Should we pick up something else so it doesn't look so obvious?" I ask, my eyes darting up and down the aisle to find something else to buy.
"What does it matter if it looks obvious. You'll never see the cashier again, who cares if they suspect you're up the duff. Just go" Allison herds me towards the till. With my head bowed I hand over the test.
"£9.99" The cashier drawls, not remotely interested in my purchase.
I hand over a crisp £10 note and direct the change into the charity tin. "Thanks" I mumble shoving the test in my pocket and swiftly making for the exit.
"Jesus could you have acted any more like a sullen teenager if you tried?" Allison laughs as she links her arm through mine as we walk back to my flat.
"That was embarrassing" I wail. "Even worse than buying condoms!"
"You're a grown ass woman Nora" Allison chastises. "You shouldn't feel embarrassed buying a pregnancy test"
"I bet he's just suspects I'm some no-hoper who's got herself pregnant" Just another teen-mom"
"For a start, he doesn't give a flying fuck what you bought. Second you are definitely not a teenager, sweetheart. Third - quit being so dramatic. If you're pregnant then we'll deal with it. There are options. If you're not then great. But there's no point in whining till we know"
I locked myself in the bathroom the second we got back.
Pee on hands. Pee on the toilet seat. Hopefully enough pee on the little white tab thing. I stick the lid back on and place it face down on the cistern. I wash my hands and sit on the lid of the toilet. Allison quietly knocks on the door and peeks her head through. I look at the clock on my phone.
"still 2 minutes to wait" I whisper.
Allison nods and sits on the rim of the bath tub, both of us facing the wall. Neither of us speaking.
"Ok, ready?" Allison asked precisely 2 minutes later.
"No" I answer immediately. I'm sweating and I feel sick. This tiny bathroom was not the best place to wait, its too damn warm in here.
I look over my shoulder at the tiny white stick, that holds the answer to my future. I'm almost 90% sure I am pregnant. But what if my missed period was down to stress and I'm going to get my period as normal in a couple of days and all this worry is for nothing. I take a deep breath and pull the stick off the toilet, keeping it face down until I have it in front of me.
"Come on, just turn it around" Allison instructs
"I can't" I whisper, staring at the white stick. I knew turning this stick round was going to alter my life forever. Was I ready to do that?
Taking a deep breath I twisted it around in my fingers.
Pregnant
3+