Behind the Scenes

Chapter 13

KATE

I clutched the glass between my hands, a nervousness bubbling in my stomach. I watched as the tiny bubbles in the water floated to the surface, breaking the moment they met the air. It was the best way I could think of to avoid looking at the person across from me.

Harry was perched on the chair, watching me with keen interest. How I had ever let him convince me to have a drink with him in the hotel bar I couldn't fathom, yet here I was, suddenly acutely aware of his presence. I had barely settled in my room when a message came through my Twitter DM, with the simply message.

Harry Styles @theRealHarryStyles

Care for a drink to take the edge off? ;)

I wasn't much for drinking, even after the emotionally charged encounter we had moments before. But someone about his invitation sparked my interest, and before my better judgment could step in, my fingers were replying yes.

Now, here I sat. Me with my water, Harry with his scotch, him eyeing me speculatively and me trying to pretend I wasn't completely out of my element.

"So," he said, before taking a sip of his drink. "Tell me about Madden."

His question caught me off guard, my gaze breaking away from my glass and jumping to him. "What?"

Harry shrugged, taking another sip before setting his glass down. "You said that I should read the book because I would learn something. Um, 'find it educational', I think were your exact words."

"I remember."

"Well, I will be honest. I haven't read it."

"Big surprise," I snorted, looking away from him.

"But, I figure you could give me a lesson in person."

"What?" I balked, startled by his request.

"Despite what you might think of me, I do want to do a good job on this show. People love the books, and love this character. Obviously, because it is me." He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows at me until I rolled my eyes. "But the character himself is something else entirely, even if you meant to base him on me. I figure, you want this to be a great just as much as I do, so why not share a little insight into Madden's character with me."

I watched him cautiously, as though he were a poisonous snake ready to bite. He had made it clear he didn't think too much for the more sensitive aspects of the novel, or Madden's character. He had even just admitted he hadn't bothered to take the time to read the book, and do the research on his motivations himself. Yet here he was, asking me to enlighten him.

I couldn't quite figure out his own motivations, but for some reason, I found myself leaning forward, engaging with the sexy boy across the table.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, raising a brow.

Harry seemed pleased that I was playing along, he too leaning forward to rest his arms across the table. Pushing the sleeves of his shirt up, he exposed his toned forearms, laying them across the wood enticingly. I struggled to keep my focus, looking to his eyes. It wasn't much better, their green depths befuddling me.

"I get his angst," he admitted, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "I mean, he's gone through some shit, and doesn't want to get involved with anyone again. He is trying to avoid the bullshit that comes with other people and emotions. But what I don't get, is what it is about Layke that changes that. What makes her so special?"

His question genuinely surprised me. I leaned back, considering my answer carefully. A lot of these answers were in the pages of the book, a slow, steady build between two broken souls. Now, I was expected to give him the Cole's notes version on something as complex as love and relationships?

Taking a deep breath, I bit the inside of my lip.

"It isn't like he just suddenly decided to let all his walls down around her," I began, walking myself through the story in my mind. "In fact, he couldn't stand her at the start, and he drove her crazy."

"Sounds familiar," he muttered under his breath, earning himself a narrow eyed glare.

"They both had their own pasts, and things that they were guarding from everyone around them. She asked for his help, and despite his desperation to keep his distance, the kinder part of him felt compelled to step up. It was over time, spending time together and actually getting to know the other person, that he started letting his walls down with her. She never pushed him, never asked him to spill his guts or open up to her. She wanted nothing more from him than a single favor, and a friendship. Over time, her gentle nature and kindness opened him up, and he let himself be vulnerable to her for the first time in years."

He watched my lips as I spoke, as though hypnotized by my explanation. It was hard to put three hundred and fifty seven pages into a single definition, but I hoped I had been able to give him the gist, a little insight, into why Madden felt as he did.

After several long moments, Harry shook his head. "I just don't get it."

"You don't get what?"

"Feeling that way," he admitted, his usual cocky tone absent. It was the first time he seemed to be speaking with me genuinely, without pretense. I felt a tiny thrill in the back of my mind at the realization. "For one person to change another so completely is totally unrelatable now days."

I balked at his reply. "You mean for someone to let themselves actually be vulnerable to someone else?"

"Yes," he nodded without hesitation.

A scowl befell my lips. "Have you ever actually let yourself be vulnerable to anyone? To actually let them in, to trust them enough to see who you really are?"

He surprised me when he coughed back a laugh. "No. Definitely not."

"And why is that so funny to consider?"

He took another sip of his drink before answering. "Because vulnerability is just a ploy. A chess piece in a game of power struggle between two people. The person who breaks first, loses. The one who holds true. Checkmate."

I didn't know how to process what he was telling me, or tell if he even truly believed it himself. He was doing a good job saying the words, playing the part of the man who never let anyone in. But his answers felt rehearsed, almost too calculated. My mind touched back on our conversation in the car, of how he always had to play a part, no matter who he was with. Being famous, always being scrutinized would surely make anyone cautious. But had it really made him this jaded?

"Feeling something for someone isn't always about power, you know." I replied after a long moment. "We all have our bullshit, but it was up to us whether we let it define us or not. Letting someone else see who we really are isn't about power. It is about trust."

This time, he actually laughed, tossing back the last of his drink, before letting the glass hit the table with a bang.

"Kate, you're so naïve," he replied, before leaning forward to me again. "Everything is about power."