Nothing Good Gets Away

Chapter 42

HARRY STYLES

I only start to come to when the plane touches down on the runway, bumping and jolting us as the engine whirs loudly on either side of the aircraft. Rowan is already awake and looking out the window with her hair tied up in a messy bun, holding a cup of coffee in her hand. It felt like a dream falling asleep next to her in our first-class seats, and it feels like a dream waking up to her now.

As I rub the sleep out of my eyes, she makes a double take at me and smiles, handing what's left of her warm coffee to me. "We're in London!" She quietly exclaims.

"Mhm," I sip from the paper cup, wincing in distaste. "What's in this?"

"Cream and sugar, because I'm not a sociopath," she takes it back from me. "I didn't want to wake you up when they were bringing drinks by before we landed."

"Well, I'm sure we can have real coffee soon," I yawn and find my phone as the plane comes to a gentle halt.

"Is your mom picking us up? Or are we going to get a cab?"

"Are you kidding?" I laugh. "My mum would have to be dead before she'd let me take a cab from the airport."

She smiles, and it only keeps growing. "I'm so excited to meet her, and your sister, and to see your house."

"Well, I should probably warn you that it's not a mansion by any means."

"Like I care," she scoffs. "It could be a cardboard box, and that would be fine."

I give her a look. "A cardboard box? Really?"

She thinks about it for a second. "Okay, maybe it would be a bit of a bummer if that's where we were going to have to stay, but yes, a cardboard box."

And that is only one of the reasons I love Rowan Bass.

Once the seatbelt sign chimes off, we slowly stand along with the others in first class so I can retrieve her Gucci carry-on bag from the overhead compartment, along with my backpack. I step into the aisle so she can go in front of me, and we're off of the plane less than two minutes later. That process has never gone so quickly or smoothly for me before, but then again I've never flown first class.

The surreal thing about being in the Heathrow airport with Rowan is that I remember making this same walk to baggage claim last year, and I missed her already. Actually, I missed her as soon as we said goodbye to each other the night before I left. But now, she's right here with me, smiling for no reason at all.

And when we get to the lower level, I already see my mum waiting for us. She calls my name to humiliate me, and Rowan gasps with a little excited smile of her own. I can't even believe it when my own mother hugs her first over me.

"I'm so happy to meet you!" Anne squeezes her, then holds her back at arm's length. "You're so beautiful, wow."

That was a little much.

"Oh God, I look terrible," Rowan humbly rejects the compliment, "but I'm so excited to be here, thank you for coming to pick us up."

"Of course, of course," she nods and moves on to embrace me next, though it's a fleeting hug and pat to my cheek before she turns to Rowan again as we go to retrieve our luggage. "Are you hungry? You must be starving after such a long flight. I know it's a little past lunchtime, but I can make you two something to hold you over before dinner tonight."

"That sounds great," Rowan spares me an amused glance over her shoulder as Anne links their arms together.

Of course, I'm the one who pulls both our suitcases from the carousel and follows behind like an afterthought while Anne asks Rowan what she would like to do for the next three days that she'll be in town with us. All she says is that she wants to see my house and that she wants all the embarrassing stories about me that I have yet to share with her. Anne naturally agrees.