It's You [H.S.]

6.1 | Back to you

Hers crinkle in familiarity, recognising James' sea lion cackle a mile off. But it's the man of the moment, Ben, holding court refereeing at the net.

Mer, with her arms draped around his waist, leans heavily into him, her rosy cheeks a tell-tale sign.

She can pick out Ollie as one player in an instant, his bulky silhouette as familiar as her own shadow. Two peas in a pod, quite literally.

It's over his meaty shoulder that she finally spots Harry. Paddle in hand, arms aloft and outstretched, head tipped back as he unleashes a characteristic "Ha-ha-haaa" guffaw.

The down lighter above him picks out the rich tones in his perfectly tousled hair, highlights the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw, the curve of his long neck and casts shadows over the defined muscles of his arms. 'God, he's beautiful', she can't help but think, 'How did I get so lucky?'.

>

With lips pinched between her teeth to try to contain the beaming smile that threatens to spill into automatic laughter and reveal her presence, as she scans back up, her eyes lock with his. Surprise written all over his face, he smiles impossibly brighter as hers, uncontainable, breaks across her face too.

Neither notice Ollie take advantage and sneak the match point. She breaks out of their trance in surprise at the thundering boom as cheers and boos immediately resound.

Ben and Mer notice Harry's distraction and crane around to see what's captured his attention so thoroughly. In the time it takes for her to squeal with delight at no longer being quite so outnumbered, and for him to shout an excitable "Whaaaaat?", Harry has ducked and dived through the crowd and hurdled clear over the sofa to swoop her up and into his arms. Her long legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.

Voiced pitched low in her ear, awed and disbelieving, "No fucking way... You're here?".

Characteristically low and slow. He grasps her jaw and finds her smiling lips for a kiss.

>

The cheers and catcalls of the small crowd pull them apart sooner than both are ready for.

A chorus of "Eloise!", "Ellie!", "El!", "Lo!", "Lol!", "Lolly!" - every nickname under the sun, bestowed by some of her very favourite people.

Lucas is clearly heard above the din. "Oi, Styles! Three brothers, right here, man".

Reluctantly finding her feet, she rests her forehead against his and slowly flutters her lashes open to look into her favourite eyes - marbled swirls of near electric green in the spotlights from the vaulted ceiling. She locks on to his intense warm gaze and smiles again, whispering "Hi, you".

With a quick, coy glance to the watch on his arm wrapped around her shoulder, she looks back up and deep into his eyes. "Happy official Anniversary, baby... Just!".

His beaming smile and loving kiss in return make the crazily busy last few days, and torturous long journey home, more than worth it.

>

Soon set upon by the others' hugs and greetings, Eloise catches Harry whip around to question Ollie, Ben and Mer as to whether they'd known she was coming.

They'd all been lamenting her unavoidable last minute trip, missing out on the final few days in the run up to the wedding and not least their first anniversary.

They still can't agree on the exact date. Harry's adamant it has to be the fourth of July; she counters that he didn't call her his girlfriend or trade "I love you's" until late September. Now they've celebrated both dates.