Cliché || H.S.

Chapter 46

Fall in California is fairly underwhelming. Everyone who designates fall as their favorite season has a true experience; cool weather, colorful leaves, some sort of precipitation falling from the sky. Autumn in California is basically the same as summer, maybe a few degrees cooler with a breeze.

Not to mention the fact that I grew up in Arizona where summer actually extends through November. In college it was the sorority girl's dream on Halloween. You never had to worry about being cold in your slutty costume because it was nearly one hundred degrees anyways. My point is, I never understood the hype of fall and why everyone was so obsessed with it.

Winding through the streets on the way to Harry's London home, I think I finally understand the craze. The trees lining the road are a mosaic, each leaf a different color. The air is thick and cold, a steady rain hitting the windows of the car. It makes me want to do nothing more than curl up in a nook with a good book and a cup of tea. It's a shame I'm technically here on business.

When we pull up to the large French style house, Harry thanks the driver before insisting on carrying both of our bags up towards the front door. I take in the expansive garden, the vines growing up the side of the house. I'm no stranger to luxury, but this place seriously looks straight out of a movie.

As expected, the inside is just as perfect. Even for such a large space, the house feels homey, and Harry already seems much more at ease. He looks like he belongs here, the mix of neutral furniture with colorful pillows and art. I follow him up to his bedroom where he sets down our bags and opens the yellow curtains to let in the afternoon light.

I sneak up behind him and wrap my arms around his torso, pressing my lips to his shoulder blade. I rest my head on his back as he looks out over his garden. "It's lovely here," I say honestly, pulling away so I can look at the view.

"The house or the city?" Harry asks, slinging an arm over my shoulder. I tuck myself under his arm as his hand runs up and down mine, giving me chills.

"Both. The house is gorgeous but London is something else. I've only ever been here in the summer for about a day at time, I've never felt like I had time to appreciate it," I hum, "But I think it might also be better this time because you're with me."

I reach up to kiss his cheek and once I do, he turns his head to give me one long kiss. "Can I ask you something?" I request softly, rubbing my hand in slow circles on his back.

"Of course you can," Harry responds confidently. I look up at his face, seeing the contentment there.

"Why LA? Obviously I love that you're there, but this is clearly your home."

Harry thinks for a moment before pulling me down to sit next to him on his large bed, "I guess it just makes more sense for me to be there. The record label is based out there and a lot of the friends I've made. And besides, you're there too which helps."

I nod my head and lay it down on his shoulders, playing with the ring on his finger, "Would you ever consider moving back here?"

We haven't had this conversation before, but suddenly I feel incredibly selfish. This is his home, this is where his family is, and yet all I've been focused on is the fact that he's just a short walk away. What if he isn't actually happy there?

"I think I would maybe," Harry concedes, "I guess I can't ever see myself not doing something with music but I also can't see myself being middle aged and still touring. So maybe when everything winds down I would want to. But I wouldn't go anywhere unless you're coming with me."

I don't respond, but instead absorb his words. Would I be okay with leaving my family and friends to be here? Although other factors led him there, in a way Harry made that sacrifice for me, and it would be selfish of me not to do the same. I guess when the time came though Harry would be my family, and that should be enough.