Honey Smiles // Harry Styles Series #3 - Jamaica

Port Antonio 2

The security guard wasn't sure what to make of me as I came to a stop by his post. In his defense, there aren't a lot of hot pink mopeds generously embellished with rhinestones and a matching helmet, in Jamaica. Or anywhere, I'd imagine.

My ride, like my bungalow, was on loan from the Schuster family. Evidently my dad had something to do with the deal that made Bradley Schuster enough money to have a vacation estate in the little enclave on Alligator Head. Cerise Schuster hadn't hesitated when Mom asked about the bungalow. In fact, I think she would have kicked out her current renters on the spot if Mom had asked.

I had needed the time with Mom, though, and with sympathetic friends, and even with Phillip's siblings, Ted and Amelia. So, it was two months after my return from Greece that I packed my bags again and headed south.

The bungalow was perfect, on a tiny beach and bay that were all my own. And I had my own transportation. Having been 'decorated' by my hosts' thirteen year old daughter, I named the moped DQ, for Drama Queen, and I came to love and appreciate her.

So the security guard's face was understandably skeptical as I pulled off my helmet.

"Good evening. I'm Caroline van der Meer."

He obviously recognized the name, because the gate began to swing open, but he remained unsure of DQ.

"Go straight to the parking, then through reception and on to Bushbar. I'll let them know you're coming."

Across the road and uphill from the sea, Geejam was nestled in the San San rainforest. In the daylight it would be a sea of greens, from lightest chartreuse to deepest forest. In the night it was inky black, punctuated by the occasional light along a pathway or glowing from a window.

I tucked DQ into a corner of the lot and went through to the bar, expecting to see Harry. Instead, I was met by George.

"They're still at it, for over eight hours now, since we got back from taking you home. If you want to wait, you're welcome to, but I don't think we'll be seeing them tonight."

Having no idea what "it" might be that they were 'at,' I considered going straight home, but I was already at the bar, so why not have a drink?

"I think I'll give them some time, and then I'll go if they're still busy. Would that be alright?"

"Of course." Catching the eye of the bartender, George nodded toward me. "You're on our tab, whatever you'd like."

I expected to see other guests coming through, but it remained only the bartender Ben, his soccer game on a small tv, and myself for the next two drinks and thirty five minutes. I had no cash on me, so I added a tip via Harry's tab. I couldn't imagine the twenty five dollars would matter in the least to him, and Ben had kept me good company while mixing killer Cosmos.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed.

The first weeks of my 'alone' time in Jamaica had been invaluable. Video sessions with my therapist at home, many books read, some journaling – I had done everything right to manage my feelings about Phillip and move on.

And now I was no longer crippled by what had happened. I had stumbled through heartbreak, fury, denial, self-doubt... and I still felt them all now and then. The rest of the time, most of the time, I felt like myself again. I even felt happy on occasion.

But missing out on drinks with Harry Styles was definitely a disappointment.

I changed into my nightshirt as soon as I got home, taking a drink out to the terrace. My view wasn't expansive; I was tucked between two rocky outcroppings covered in trees that bent low over the waves. I had a fifty foot wide crescent of beach and a protected, sandy-bottomed cove, perfect for swimming. I tried to alternate swimming and running every day. As my mental health had improved, so had my physical health. I was in the best shape of my life.