Something Great

Chapter 1

"The script was written and I could not change a thing. I want to rip it all to shreds and start again." - Something Great, by One Direction

If there is a Hell, this is certainly it. 

The Galleria Mall.

On Christmas Eve. 

One hour before closing. 

After battling my way through the crowds of shoppers, all equally desperate in their search for that last-minute, perfect Christmas gift, while being serenaded into a homicidal rage by the canned holiday music, I have made the decision that I will NEVER subject myself to this torture again. 

Who am I kidding?  The crowd fades away as I quietly acknowledge my ulterior motive.  I am not just a woman possessed by the holiday spirit. I am driven by an almost pathological need to replace what my daughter Emily and I have lost.   Jacob's sudden death a little less than a year ago rocked our world, making me both mother and father, a dual role that has forced me to overcompensate.  Achieving a sense of normalcy, or equilibrium has been a daily struggle – and I have not always been successful.  A "perfect" Christmas is not even a paltry consolation prize, but it may help dull the ache.  

After making my way through the clusterfuck of shoppers outside Nordstrom's, I spot a bench. Hallelujah.  Heaving a heavy sigh of relief, I plop myself down with my packages.   I take a well-deserved rest, and engage in one of the world's greatest guilty pleasures: people watching.  To my left, I spot a mother juggling three enormous shopping bags, a screaming baby in her arms, and two other children (obviously under the age of six) trailing behind her.  I chuckle and mentally pat myself on the back for leaving Emily with Patrick for the night.

Hearing a loud scream from the right, my heart catapults into my throat, and I whip my head around.  My trembling right hand, without my brain telling it to do so, finds its way to my neck, the tip of my index finger absent-mindedly tracing the slightly raised scar, just below my right ear.  My throat starts to close and my vision blurs, the scream triggering a memory that I definitely don't have time for.  I shake my head slightly to clear it.  Squinting into the throng of shoppers, I locate the scream's source.  A group of girls, all in various states of hysteria, surround a tall figure.  The crowd is gradually growing, so I strain to see through it.  I catch a glimpse of dark curly hair, aviator sunglasses, long legs clad in skinny black jeans...holy shit. That's Harry Styles.   I let out a surprised little huff of laughter.  Frankly, I'm more than a bit surprised to see him.  Harry doesn't seem like a "Vegas" kind of guy. I expected he'd use the band's hiatus to visit expensive boutiques and hipster cafe's in West Hollywood.  Or spend it hiking with monks in Nepal. Not hanging out at a mall in suburban Las Vegas, near closing time.  My smile starts to fade as I realize Harry, and the gaggle of girls following him, are headed this way...and that despite my best efforts, I just can't stop staring.   I mentally kick myself for my less than subtle ogling.  I hurriedly start gathering up my packages.  I think I have it all under control and start to stand up, when one of them slips from my fingers and tumbles to the ground.  Did I buy anything breakable? Doubtful.

Suddenly, a hand shoots out to pick up the package.  A hand clad in an expensive watch, with a prominent (and very recognizable) anchor tattoo on the wrist.  Gulping, I reach out to grab the package, my eyes shooting upwards.  I am met immediately with the Styles patented charm: eyes the most astonishing shade of green, delivering a stare that's intense, almost disconcerting, and a panty-dropping smile that could probably cure cancer or lead to world peace.   I can't help but beam back at him, silently wondering if he has this effect on everyone he meets.  Internally chastising myself, quickly reigning in any and all fangirling, I pull it together to respond normally, smiling and thanking him politely.  He holds my gaze for a moment longer than necessary, his bottom lip tucking between his teeth. Then, appearing to shake himself, he nods a short "you're welcome!" and quickly disappears back into the crowd.  Standing back up, I gaze speculatively after him, a small smile tugging at my lips. Okay. The fangirling can commence. Holy crap, that was Harry Styles! I'm squealing insude, and have to repress the urge to jump up and down. Without warning, I realize that a pair of green eyes are once again meeting mine.  He holds the eye contact for a moment, his lips pulling into a small smirk.  Realizing that I have been caught ogling, I blush furiously and avert my eyes.  Grunting in frustration (what am I, a teenager?), I gather up all my stuff and start heading for the café for a latte.  Despite the fantastical trips of fantasy my imagination attempted to take me on (why Harry, run away with you? Why, this is all so sudden...), I've got more shopping yet to do, and will need caffeine to keep me going.   The shrill wail of a nearby toddler gets me moving.