Dedicated to lamusique... thanks for your gentle persuasion to encourage me to get on with finishing this chapter, and your great comments
I stared at Susie - or rather, at Harry - for a moment until the young girl yelling, "I hate you Susie!" spurred me into action.
"C'mon Susie," I said, grabbing Harry by the arm and turning him around to face the door. "Let's just pop outside for a bit."
"Thanks Emma," I heard him mutter. My heart began thumping a little harder at the sound of his voice. I couldn't quite believe he was here, dressed in the Susie suit again. I presumed he wasn't simply here to return it or because he got some weird kick out of wearing it. I assumed that he had come to see me.
I led him out of the party room to the hall, and nearly bumped into Gareth and Paddy, who were waiting beside the door. Before I had a chance to say anything to Harry, Gareth stepped forward.
"Emma, I know all about your, ah, visitor," he said. "He's asked if the two of you can have a few minutes to chat in private. Would you like to use the duty manager's office?"
"Yes please," I said, and then something occurred to me. "Oh, except that he won't be able to take the Susie head off in there."
I turned to Harry. "There's a big window that runs the length of the room, so everyone in the playground can see in to the office. People might notice you."
"Is there somewhere else?" he asked, his voice muffled. "I need to get this bloody head off."
"Umm, all the party rooms are being used. There's the changing room but there are people in and out all the time. The loos?"
"Actually, I've just thought of somewhere," said Harry. "Can we go out to the corridor outside?"
"You know the public walk past there all the time," said Gareth.
"Yep," said Harry. "But I've got an idea."
My arm through his, I led him out the back door into the corridor, Paddy trailing behind us.
"Now what?" I said when we got out.
"The broom cupboard," he said. "It's private."
"Really Harry? The broom cupboard?"
"Yep, it's bigger than you think it is going to be. Trust me, I spent 10 minutes in there yesterday, I know."
He was right. I opened the door and turned the light on to find that although it wasn't huge, and there were several cleaning carts and lots of brooms and mops leaning up against the walls taking up space, there was actually enough room for both of us.
"Could you stand guard outside please Paddy?" asked Harry as I shepherded him in.
I shut the door behind us and watched as he pulled the Susie head off. This was surreal. I was in a broom cupboard with Harry Styles, who was dressed as a squirrel. Again.
When the head finally came off, I couldn't help my sudden sharp intake of breath. It really was him, and he looked as gorgeous as ever.
"That's better," he said, putting the Susie head on a shelf of cleaning liquids and turning to face me. "I really can't see a thing with that bloody head on."
"Sooo..." I said, trying not to stare into those stunning green eyes. "You've just popped in because... you were in the neighbourhood?"
"Not quite," he said, pushing his fingers through his flattened hair. "Hello, by the way."
He gave me a small, tentative smile and although I was still pretty upset with him with him after his behaviour the night before, I couldn't help smiling back.
"Hello Harry," I said.
"I'm here because I owe you an explanation about what happened last night," he said. "I need to tell you about Jacinta."
"Yes, you do," I said. I crossed my arms over my chest, bracing myself for what was about to come.
"Right then," he began. "So, uh, Jacinta is a freelance stylist we sometimes use when our stylist Caroline needs a bit of help. She's also the sister of one of the girls at Syco, so she comes along to a lot of events like the party last night."
"Oh, OK," I said. She'd probably been on the scene for some time, so it was possible that something had been going on between them for a while.
"Jacinta is very.... uh," he seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "She's very pretty, obviously, and bubbly, and friendly, and outgoing, and she's always very helpful. She's really endeared herself to people, I guess you could say."
I could just imagine how she had endeared herself to him. Ew. Sometimes having a vivid imagination like mine was not a good thing.
"And because of that, a lot of people really trust her and like her."
He paused again.
"But I'm not one of them."
What?
Did he just say what I thought he said?
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I mean I don't trust her, and because of that, I don't like her. You know how I said last night that it didn't matter if we got a bit, um, down and dirty with the dancing because everyone at the club could be trusted to protect our privacy?"
I nodded. I remembered it well.
"Well, I thought they could, until I realised Jacinta was there. I wouldn't trust her as far as I could throw her."
I needed a moment for his words to sink in. I had thought he had been about to tell me there was something going on between him and Jacinta. I was not expecting this.
"Why don't you trust her?" I asked.
He pushed his hand through his hair again. "There have been a few occasions where things me and the other lads have said or done in private, or photos of us from events like the party last night, have been leaked to papers and websites. We've never known who was behind it, and that was bugging me. So I sat down one day and went through a process of elimination about who I thought it could be.
"I realised Jacinta had been at all those events where photos had been leaked, and she was there floating around in the background when confidential stuff was being discussed. And they way she asks a lot of questions about what is going on is a bit suspect.
"Everyone else thinks she's too sweet and nice to do anything underhand, but to be honest, I think all that bubbliness is an act. She's a fake. She's making money out of selling stuff about us to the media."
I watched his face as he talked. He was no fool, this boy. He was a lot more perceptive and switched on than a lot of people probably ever gave him credit for.
"I'm always very careful when she is around, and I never say or do anything in front of her that I don't want splashed all over the media. That's why," he continued, rubbing his hand across his chin, "I panicked when you were on my knee and I looked up and saw her standing there.
"I'm so sorry Emma, I know it must have felt like I threw you off my lap, but I didn't want her to see us sitting there all, um, cosy like that. It would have been all over the internet in minutes."
"Right," I said. My brain was spinning.
I just knew there had to have been a good reason for him doing that. It had seemed so rude, which was a complete contrast to the way he'd been up until then.
"I know I just walked off and left you, but I needed to get over there and find out if she had seen us, and if she had, how long she'd been watching us for. And I needed to know if she'd seen us dancing."
"OK," I said, feeling my pulse quickening. I had never been so happy to be wrong about something in my life.
"I also wanted to know if she'd just arrived with Sonny and David or if she'd been at the gig, and seen me singing to you on stage. If she had seen you up on stage with me, and then us together in the club, it would have made a much bigger story. The media definitely would have blown it up into us being about to walk down the aisle if that was the case." He gave a small smile at that.
"I don't remember seeing her at the gig," I said. She hadn't been in the roped-off area with us, I was pretty sure.
"She wasn't," he continued, "and when I asked her if she'd seen my brilliant efforts on the dance floor earlier she said no, but I didn't find that out until I went back to talk to her after the presentation. She and her sister drove up from London with Sonny and David.
"I'm so sorry I ignored you Emma, I felt really bad when I walked past you without even looking at you, but Jacinta is really observant and I knew she was watching me. She'd have noticed if I had acknowledged you in any way."
"It's OK," I said.
It was, now that I knew the truth.
"But it wasn't OK last night, was it? You left."
His eyes bored into mine.
"Uh... yes, I did," I said, meeting his gaze. "I thought the two of you were, um, together and I, um... I felt awkward about being there."
"I'm so sorry about that," he said, pushing his hair back again. "I can see why you would have thought that, but believe me, I've never been interested in Jacinta. She has tried it on a couple of times but I didn't want to go there. I still don't."
An incredible feeling of relief washed over me. I didn't know what to say so I just nodded.
"I wish you'd stayed," he said, his voice softening. "We were having such a good time."
"Yeah, we were."
The pull between us was so strong I could hardly look at him for fear that I might do something rash like launch myself at him like a heat-seeking missile.
"I did try to let you know what was happening," he said. 'I asked Niall to tell you I was just sorting out a problem with Jacinta, and I would be back shortly. But he got distracted when he was on the way to give you the message, the horny little tosser."
I smiled at the memory of Niall's face as the two scantily-clad women had fawned over him.
"I did wonder if he was coming to talk to me," I said.
"And Gemma tried to come after you as well," he said. "Did you realise that?"
"No." I was surprised. "When?"
"When the presentation finished, and you took off to the loo. She went after you, but got waylaid by one of the Syco executives. She didn't see you come out again, and when she was able to go looking for you, you'd gone."
"Oh, I had no idea."
"Gemma saw the look on your face when I chucked you off my knee and went to see Jacinta. She knows why I did it, and she doesn't trust Jacinta either, but she said it was really rude, and she felt for you because you looked so unhappy. She's been giving me grief about it since last night."
"I like your sister," I said.
"She likes you too," he replied. "But not as much as I do."
Oh. My. God. For a moment we just stood there and stared at each other. I didn't trust myself to speak. Harry had just said he liked me. And I was pretty sure he meant he liked me.
Little bubbles of delight were popping in my chest.
"You have no idea how pissed off I was when I realised you'd gone," he said. "I had a right strop on - in the end Louis told me to bugger off back to the hotel because I was bringing everyone else down.
"All I could think about was how I could find you again after your little Cinderella disappearing act."
"Oh, that explains your tweet," I said.
"Yeah." He smiled. "That was for you, actually both my tweets this morning were. I didn't have a glass slipper, but I did have the Susie suit, and I did know that you started work at the Enchanted Forest at noon. The suit meant I could get back here without being recognised. So I put it on, and here I am."
He thrust out his hands as he said that, and accidentally sent several brooms and mops flying. "Shit," he said, bending over to pick them up.
"Harry, you do know that you could have just got my phone number from your mum or Preston? You rang both of them from my phone yesterday, so they had my number in their phones."
He stood up again, and rubbed his nose. "Yeah, I did realise that this morning," he said. 'But by that stage, I had been awake half the night imagining myself coming here to see you in the Susie suit, and I still wanted to do it. I thought it was a far more romantic gesture than just phoning you."
Romantic. He just used the word romantic. My heart was really pounding now.
"It is," I told him, surprised at how steady my voice came out. We stood and gazed at each other for another long moment, and to fill in the silence, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. "So you didn't sleep much?"
"Nope," he shook his head. "Too busy trying to work out how to get in touch with you."
"I didn't sleep well either," I admitted. "Too busy wondering what the hell had gone wrong. And reading about myself on Tumblr."
"Oh, yeah, me too," he said. "I mean reading about you. I'm so sorry about that - I told you we'd end up all over the internet. And some of those comments... ignore them, Emma. You know you're beautiful right? Even dressed as an elf."
"Thank you." This time my voice came out as little more than a whisper. Harry Styles just said I was beautiful.
"I'm still so annoyed I didn't think about the consequences before I got you up on stage. But it's OK, I've got a plan for damage control."
"Really?" This could be interesting.
"Everyone will get off your case the minute I am photographed with another woman. I'm going to a charity event on Tuesday night where there will be a whole bunch of models. I'll just make sure I'm photographed looking all cosy with one of them - everyone will go on about my new love interest and they'll forget about you."
"Oh," I said. "Thank you."
I supposed I should be thankful that he was taking steps to take the heat off me. But instead of being grateful, the thought of him getting up close and personal with a beautiful model left me feeling hollow inside.
I mustn't have sounded very happy because he frowned and said, "You do get that if I don't do any damage control things will go really mad and you'll get hounded? All that stuff I talked about last night will happen. Just look at how Tumblr has taken off, and nothing has even happened between us. Yet."
That last word made my heart sing.
Did that mean what I thought it meant?
I took a good look at Harry. Everything about his face was so familiar because I'd spent years staring at posters of him on my bedroom wall, and watching YouTube clips. And yet it was like I was seeing a whole new, different person. He wasn't Harry Styles, popstar; he was a very sweet, funny, extremely good-looking young guy with whom I'd somehow established an instant rapport, and who seemed to be telling me that there could be something happening between us.
"Uh, thanks for being so protective of me and my privacy, Harry," I told him. "I appreciate it."
He paused for a moment, those green eyes scanning my face, then he took a deep breath.
"You know I'm not just trying to be nice because I feel guilty that you've ended up in the spotlight after last night, don't you?"
"Harry, to be honest, I don't know what to think."
He nodded at my words.
"The thing is Em, there's um, an ulterior motive to why I am being oversensitive about you getting all that publicity. It's because," he hesitated and pushed his fingers through his hair again, "it's because I really would like to get to know you better, but I don't want to do it with the whole world watching. It makes things really difficult when your every move is scrutinized by millions of people and they start making horrible comments on websites.
"That's one of the reasons a lot of my relationships have been so short-lived. It feels like everyone is sticking their oar in. I decided a while back that the next time I met someone I wanted to get to know better, I would make sure things stayed under the radar, at least to start with, so we could get to know each other properly without all the interference."
"Oh," was all I could manage in response. The words, "I want to get to know you better" were still ringing in my ears.
"I know I'm the one who screwed up by getting you up on stage last night and immediately guaranteeing you worldwide attention, but if I can make people think it wasn't important, by doing a bit of damage control, then hopefully you'll be left in peace and that will make it easier for us to get to know each other in private."
I was going to have to pinch myself. He really did just say that. I was so dumbfounded I couldn't speak.
Harry was looking at me intensely, and when I didn't reply, he frowned. "This is OK, isn't Emma? I mean, you would like to get to know me better, wouldn't you? Oh fuck, have I just jumped to the wrong conclusion and made a total dick of myself?"
He looked really worried. His hand went to his chin and he began rubbing it self-consciously. Before I'd thought about what I was doing, I reached out for his hand and took it in mine. I gave it a squeeze.
"No, Harry, you haven't made a total dick of yourself. I do want to get to know you better. It's just this is all so quick. I only met you yesterday."
"I know, and normally I would never be this rash. It's just that I knew that if I didn't say something now, I might have missed my chance. And I really don't want to miss out on getting to know you. I've never done anything quite like this before Emma. I don't usually... I, ah..."
He was stumbling over his words now. This was not some slick, womanising world-famous pop star in front of me. It was a slightly nervous 21-year-old lad trying to explain his feelings.
While standing in a broom cupboard.
Dressed as a squirrel.
"The thing is Emma, and I know this probably sounds like the world's most clichéd pick up line ever, but I really felt this connection between us. It was kind of like we immediately clicked. I don't know quite know how to say this.... But I guess.... I'd like to get to know you better because..."
He took a deep breath. "Look, I know it has only been a day but in the words of that well-known philosopher Carly Rae Jepsen, I really, really, really, really, really, really like you."
At that, I laughed. "Oh Harry, I really like you too," I said.
"Really, really, really?" he asked.
"Really, really, really, really... and a whole load more reallys," I said. "And not just because you're famous, honestly. You're a lovely person Harry, and I felt that connection between us too."
He gave what appeared to be a huge sigh of relief and gently rubbed his thumb across the back of my hand. "So, does that mean you'd like to get to know me better?" He sounded a lot more confident now.
"Yes," I said, and when he broke into a smile, I smiled too. Our eyes locked again and there were butterflies the size of albatrosses doing loop-de-loops in my stomach. This was really happening. I still couldn't believe it.
I must have frowned, or pulled a face, because Harry cocked his head to one side and gave me a probing stare.
"What was that look for?" he asked. "Are you OK?"
"Yes," I said, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry Harry, it's just.... I mean, look at us. How bizarre is this? I can't quite believe it. I'm having a conversation with Harry Styles from One Direction about getting to know each other better, just a day after we met by complete fluke, and we're holding hands in a broom cupboard, and you're dressed as a giant squirrel...
"I'm struggling to get my head around it to be honest. Everything at the moment just feels so unreal."
"What about this then?" he said. "Does this feel real?"
He stepped toward me and with his free hand, he reached out to cup my face, his long fingers sliding along my jawline to my neck. Then he bent his head forward and touched his lips to mine.
The kiss was hesitant and tentative at first, his mouth soft and gentle. I parted my lips to kiss him back and shivered as his tongue slid between them. He tasted of coffee and something else I couldn't quite figure out. After a few seconds, as my tongue swiped across his, I realised what it was. Banana.
Harry let go of my hand and slid his arm around my back, and it felt right for me to reach up and lace my fingers together behind his neck.
A moment later I was glad to be holding onto him, and to have his arm supporting me, because as his tongue became more insistent in my mouth, and his thumb stroked my jaw, I started feeling light-headed. The cupboard felt like it was spinning, and my legs became boneless. For the first time in my life, I knew what it meant to swoon. I had to lean against him in case I slid in an ungainly heap to the ground. It took a few moments before I stopped feeling so giddy.
As we kissed I marveled at how our mouths seemed to fit together perfectly; I could not remember a kiss that had ever felt so right, or so exciting. Every nerve ending in my body was tingling. I could have kissed him forever, but it was getting hard to breathe. Eventually we pulled apart.
"Well?" he asked, studying my face. "Did that feel real?"
"Uh, to be honest, no."
"No?" He looked surprised.
"No, it felt like I was dreaming. You might have to do it again, just so I know it is for real..."
"I think I can do that," he grinned.
This time he was less gentle, and I didn't hold back either. He slid his hands down my back and then around to my hips, pulling me into him like he had on the dance floor the night before. I wove my fingers through his hair, which felt silky to touch. He pushed me back against the door, knocking over more brooms as he did, but as they clattered to the floor I didn't care, I couldn't get enough of him.
I opened my mouth to deepen the kiss, and found myself moaning into him. He responded with a soft grunt, and I liked the fact that I had the ability to make him make that kind of noise.
I wasn't sure how long we had been kissing for when I became aware of something uncomfortably hard poking me in the stomach.
I pulled out of the kiss but he didn't let me get too far away. He stayed pressed against me and bent his head forward so that our foreheads were touching. It took us a moment to get our breath back.
"Uh Harry, is that a broom handle sticking into me, or are you pleased to see me?"
He laughed. "It's a broom handle," he said, reaching between us to push it away. "But now you come to mention it, I am pleased to see you." And as if to prove his point, he gently thrust his pelvis against mine.
"Oh," I said, feeling him against my abdomen through the furry Susie suit. This was a whole other level of really, really, really liking each other.
"If only Louis was here," he murmured.
"What?"
We were having an extremely intimate moment and he wanted Louis there?
"I'd get him to pay for that room he kept going on about." His grin was very cheeky.
"Oh," I said again. And suddenly I had an awful thought. Was that all this was about - getting me into bed? Was all that, "I really, really, really like you" stuff just a line?
He seemed to have read my mind.
"Hey, I'm joking Em, I'm just referring to what was said yesterday and the fact that Louis got it right, there is something between us. I'm not suggesting we should rush off and, you know... I don't think of you like that."
He didn't? So he'd gone from one extreme to the other - one minute he wanted to get a room, the next he wasn't interested in me that way. That must have been an imaginary erection I was feeling.
I was confused, and I must have pulled a face again, because he hurriedly said, "I mean I do think of you like that... in that I'm very attracted to you, uhh, obviously" - he looked down between us as he said that - "because you're incredibly sexy. Even in that weird green outfit."
"Harry," I began, "I..."
I didn't get to say anymore; he just kept talking over me.
"Of course I would like it if we... you know... But what I meant was I know you're not like those girls who throw themselves at me, just wanting to shag me. "
"Harry..."
"This is not about sex, Emma. For now, I just want to get to know you, and spend some time together just being two people who have hit it off and like being in each other's company.
"Shit, I'm rambling, aren't I? Look, I really do like you very much. You're beautiful and you're smart and you're funny and..."
"Harry!" He finally stopped talking when I put two fingers up to his lips to stop them moving.
"Would you just shut up for a minute?" I said.
I pulled my hand away and studied his face - the strong jaw, the striking green eyes, the pretty pink cupid's bow lips... oh, those lips.
When my bedroom wall had been plastered in pictures of him I had stared at them for hours on end, dreaming up little fantasies in which I got to kiss him. Now it had actually happened, and as much as I was loving hearing Harry talk about how attracted he was to me, I needed to feel his lips on mine again. Now.
"Thank you for being quiet," I said. "We can talk later. But right now, I need you to do me a favour. In the words of those well-known philosophers One Direction, let me kiss you."
"OK," he said, breaking into a dazzling smile that just about had the power to knock me off my feet. "I can let you do that."
So I did.