As I stirred, I felt two weights. One weight was felt in my head, like a bunch of rocks tumbling inside my skull as I slightly lifted my head off the lavender pillow case. It was an expected weight, given the copious glasses of wine I'd consumed the night before.
The weight that I hadn't expected however, was an arm draped over my side. As I painfully craned my neck around, my gaze was met with Harry's soft face squished against the pillow. His eyes were gently shut, long lashes fanning out onto the heights of his tanned cheeks. With his hair messily draping down his forehead, he was laid on top of the covers in a deep slumber. I had no recollection of when he'd joined me.
You were drunk, but not that drunk, Evie.
Annoyed and somewhat hurt, I'd thrown myself into bed after ending our conversation the previous night, taking my notebook and and pen with me, just to get some of my thoughts out in a constructive way. Before I knew it, I'd scrawled a few verses.
I know I should have been more vigilant in responding to him, I was his house guest after all and that was the polite thing to do. I did apologise for that, and would do so more sincerely today.
But what I was annoyed about was the bitterness in his voice. He had every reason not to trust me, but he'd told me honestly that he didn't not trust me. So, what had frustrated me was his decision to pull the 'history' card out of indulgent jealousy. As long as he wanted to work on a friendship or more, he couldn't pull that card when it suited him because it was only going to hinder any progress.
"You're awake" his gravelly voice sounded from my side. His voice was sleepy and hoarse; usually a heady combination. His arm moved and dropped down between us as he rolled flat onto his back, arms outstretched as he stretched his entire body. I could feel the heat radiating from his naked top half, even though he'd slept above the blankets. He always ran hot. I'd missed being against his heat.
I rolled onto my side, propping my head up on a fisted hand and spoke quietly. "When did you sneak in?"
"When I realised I was acting like an arse" he confirmed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands.
"You said it" I murmured dryly, pushing my hair back from my face. He'd told me in the past he could be petty. I'm glad he was at least self aware about it. "I'm sorry" I continued in a whisper.
"So am I" he spoke before yawning as he outstretched once more, his toned body arching off the mattress before he rolled back towards me. "Let's see this tattoo" he sighed, pulling my wrist towards himself.
"I haven't washed it yet" I imparted, watching as he carefully unwrapped the plastic cling-film from around my arm. The room-temperature air hit the raw skin and I observed the inky smudges on and surrounding the tattooed area that was dying to be ran under soapy water. I looked to Harry, reading his expression as he examined the new tattoo. His lips were curled into a very slight, almost undetectable smile. It was those damn dimples that gave it away.
This wasn't just a spur of the moment tattoo, or just a coverup of something I regretted. This was my commitment to moving forward. My grandest gesture. Selecting a rose felt fitting, considering their significance between us over a short while. I couldn't erase my past but I could plant seeds in its ashes, and from those ashes could bloom hope. I hoped he would see it as such.
"A rose" he murmured, now committing fully to the threatening smile. His large hand had gently grasped my arm, his thumb grazing my skin softly. He looked up at me with a soft gaze, wordlessly telling me he understood the significance.
"A very smudged rose" I added. "I should go shower and clean it, actually".
"Yeah, of course," Harry sat upright as I pushed the covers back off of myself. "Are you hungry?"
I padded over to the attached ensuite. Turning to respond, I shook my head - I was pretty hungover and didn't feel like I could keep food down just yet.
"At least have some tea and toast, line your stomach and that" he continued to which I nodded with a sigh in agreement - it was easier than arguing, I knew he wouldn't relent.
Dressed in my loosest fitting jeans, a baggy washed-out band shirt and my slip on chequered Vans, I made haste to pack my bags and lug them downstairs. Hotel Harry had been surprising and strange at times, and it was time for me to check-out.
Harry was buttering two slices of rye toast for me as I entered the kitchen. A jazz record was playing quietly in the background as he did so.
"We're twinning" he observed with a laugh, stepping around from the counter to reveal his outfit. He too was clad in baggy blue jeans, a pair of white Vans sneakers and a distressed Morrissey T-shirt.
"Jesus Christ" I moaned, moving to pull a stool from out under the island bench. With a chuckle, he pushed a plate of toast towards me, beside the hot cup of tea he'd had waiting.
"How's the head?" Harry leant forward onto the bench, one ankle crossed behind the other as his fisted hands cupped his chin.
"Worse than a five, less than a ten" I shrugged, ripping the toast with my teeth. "There's a lockbox at the flat, by the way" I added. "We won't need to go past the agents for keys anymore".
"I've quite liked having company here" Harry confessed after a few moments, watching on as I bit into the toast once more.
"I'm sure you could do without the stumbling-home at two AM wake up calls though".
"If you're going to be stumbling home, I'd rather it be to me anyway, Eve" he imparted, lips forming an earnest tight line before he left me to finish my tea, rolling my bags out towards the front door.
——
I can't believe I even considered doing this on my own. How we managed to fit all of my purchases into the back of his Range Rover was a Tetris-like miracle. In typical Harry fashion, he didn't allow me to lift a finger. As we pulled up in the undercover car park at IKEA, a store attendant was already waiting with my purchases. With sunglasses on and a cap hovering over his face to try and maintain some sort of anonymity, Harry had rushed out of the car and began packing it all across the boot and folded down backseats before I'd had a chance to get my seatbelt off.
I know he could have paid someone to do all of this if he wanted, but I think he genuinely got a kick out of playing 'normal' with me. He'd mentioned this in the past and this was proving a prime example.
The front facade of my new place of residence was similar to that of the terrace-like houses I'd lived in, in Melbourne. Rendered light-grey stone was covered with winding vine. A cute little iron fence sat between the properties boundary and the sidewalk, overgrown rose bushes behind it.
A narrow carpeted staircase led up to my floor - proving an absolute shit show of an effort to try and lug boxes of flat pack furniture up; although Harry did it with ease, all flexed-muscles and masculine bravado as he barked orders for me to get out of the way and stand back.
The flat was a bit of a shoebox, though I'd expected that and was ok with it, given it was still mildly aesthetically pleasing. It was a little dated, dying for a fresh polish on the floor and a lick of paint, but it was only temporary. The front door opened directly into the open living space with a small kitchen along the left hand side wall. The right wall had a large window that let in plenty of natural light and a small fireplace and mantle sat on the wall between them.
As Ross had advised, there was a small fridge, microwave and couch already in situ - bulky items I was glad I didn't need to worry about obtaining. The bedroom was small but had a large wardrobe hidden behind sliding, mirrored doors and attached was a small bathroom complete with a washing machine - something I hadn't expected.
"Okay, I can work with this" I huffed, placing a couple of heavy ikea bags down on the small counter as Harry pushed the mattress and flat pack containing the bed frame across the polished floorboards and into the bedroom.
"Lots of natural light, too" he added, though I could tell he was scraping the bottom of the barrel trying to find much else positive to say. I needed to remember that he didn't have the same share house/gross rental experience that I'd had all through my twenties to compare this to.
"So, how about we divide and conquer?" I suggested, smacking a palm against a large box beside me. "If you get started on the bed, I'll try for one of these tables here".
"Are you sure?" Harry's doubt in me was very much evident via the faint smirk upon his rosy full lips.
"How hard can it be?" I shrugged with a daring smile, reaching into the ikea bag for a box cutter and pair of scissors I'd also ordered.
"Alright then" Harry chuckled, accepting the box cutter as I passed it over. "Just don't go screwing anything too tight...it'll make it harder for me when I have to dis-assemble everything to fix it all for you".
"Your faith in me is overwhelming, asshole" I muttered, using the scissors to glide under the tape on the box closest to me.
——
"How are you going Eve?" Harry called from the bedroom.
I guessed he was concerned by how quiet I'd been, given I was silently struggling. The coffee table was mostly built, there was just a bastard drawer I couldn't assemble correctly no matter how hard I tried. I was screaming profanities inside my head, but was too proud to give him the satisfaction of doing so aloud.
"Yeah, fine!" I called back.
"Hm, doesn't look like it" Harry let out with a short laugh, stood peering over from the bedroom door frame just as I let my face bury into my hands out of frustration, crinkled printed instructions on my lap.
He stepped over me and sat down by the table, taking the washed-out navy cap off his head and inspecting my progress so far. "Would you mind running out to grab me an iced coffee?" He looked up at me with an innocent smile that I saw straight through.
"You're clearly trying to get rid of me so you can save yourself the frustration of watching me build this" I laughed, "but sure".
"More or less, yeah" he smirked as I emptied the contents of my tote bag onto what I'd built so far, to locate my purse.
"Iced long black?"
"Yeah, with honey please".
——
"Honey, I'm home" I crooned, stepping backwards through the threshold of the doorway as I used my butt to push open the door, hands occupied with the coffees and some bagels. Harry was laid on the hardwood floor still, working on sliding the drawer into its metal tracks. I put the bagels on the counter before placing the cardboard cup tray down on the coffee table, taking mine out to sip on. That's when something caught my eye.
"What's that?" I stepped backwards slowly, pointing towards a large frame that sat on the ledge of the fireplace, propped up against the wall.
My mouth sat agape; I was in shock. It was the same framed photo of Keith Richards and Mick Jagger that I'd fallen in love with at the Bob Gruen gallery exhibit.
"That's the one you liked, isn't it?" Harry spoke so nonchalantly as he propped himself up on his elbows. He had a knowing smirk on his face - the same smirk I noticed would flash whenever he had successfully surprise me.
He was so thoughtful. It was so expensive.
Every single day I was with him, Harry never failed to surprise me with his thoughtfulness. That thoughtfulness wasn't just demonstrated through these sort of grand gestures but moreso in the little things he would do and I couldn't fathom that I was deserving enough to be on the receiving end of those.
I placed my coffee back down on the low lying table and before my brain could catch up with my adrenaline, I was straddling his hips, leant forward, hovering before him and placing playfully excited kisses over every inch of his face. Harry fell back, eyes wiring shut as he laughed heartily at my sudden gesture.
"Thank you"...kiss... "thank you" ....kiss.... "thank you!" I gushed, sitting back on his hips and tucking my loose hair behind my ears- this the closest we'd been connected that way in what felt like a lifetime.
"I'll take it that is the one you liked" he chuckled, hands wandering the side of my thighs as we sat connected.
"I love it" I beamed. I let my fingertips drag down his chest ever so lightly. "It's perfect".
"Housewarming gift" he shrugged, flashing his perfect set of teeth as he propped himself back up on his elbows.
I looked back up at the print to admire it once more. The thick black frame and black and white image was the perfect contrast with the white wall and ledge that it sat on. It was the anchor this place needed to really feel like a home and my heart wanted to burst, I couldn't stop smiling at it.
"Never seen anything quite like it" Harry murmured, diverting my attention back down towards himself. He held my camera between his two hands, hovering it before his face, his eyes peering over it as they burned into me.
"Like what?" A perplexed twisted smile played at my lips.
"That smile in your eyes..." Harry continued, "do it again".
An embarrassed flush heated my bare cheeks as I suddenly had no idea what to do with my body or face. "I don't like photos" I murmured. I cocked my head ever so slightly and looked towards the lens as he pressed down on the top of the camera, eliciting a bright flash.
We locked eyes as he slowly lowered the camera. "You've no idea how beautiful you are, Eve" he then said quietly, putting it back down on the table. I stared at him for a moment, the faintest smile at my lips while I thought about how easy it would be to just lean down and kiss him. It seemed painfully unfair that we had a boundary. With a heavy exhale, I quickly stood to my feet.
"We should get the rest of this stuff built" Harry remarked, sitting upright to observe all the other boxes we hadn't yet opened. It looked to me like his mind was somewhere else, too.
With my phone connected to a cheap Bluetooth speaker I'd included in my IKEA order, we continued to get my flat set up. Harry remained on furniture assembling duty while I looked after the more menial tasks like sorting the bedding, moving my clothes and belongings into the wardrobes and drawers and putting away other odd bits and pieces.
The chatter between us remained light and friendly but there was an overarching sense of exhaustion. I think, like myself, Harry was tired of the charade.
"Can you turn a light on, Eve?" Harry sat with the last bedside table between his legs, Allen key in hand as he tightened the legs on it. The sun had begun to set and was no longer shining through the window.
I moved over to the light switch at the wall and flicked on a couple of switches and got nothing. "Um...I don't think powers on yet" I shared, flicking all three switches once more.
"Fuck sake" Harry muttered. I moved to one of the large IKEA bags, finding some white, pink and red candlesticks and candle holders I'd purchased to which Harry shook his head with a snicker. "I don't think those'll do".
I grabbed my phone and knelt down next to him, shining my torch light above his hands as one expertly twisted the key and the other held the leg in place. "You're quite domestic, Mr Styles" I playfully observed. Our heads side by side, he turned to look at me briefly with a smirk playing at his lips before he continued working.
"And that's done" he huffed, sitting back leaning on the heels of his palms. He looked over the small dining table and two accompanying chairs, side and coffee tables with pride.
"I owe you big time" I told him as I flopped back down onto the tan colour leather couch behind me. "I was going to cook you dinner as a thanks, but the power company seems to have other ideas..."
Harry got up onto his feet and effortlessly picked up the last bedside table and moved it to the bedroom before returning to sit on the couch with me.
"I can't cook, but I can order something" I added. I really didn't want him to leave. "You've gotta be hungry after that masculine display" I joked.
"Ravenous" he remarked, letting his head tip back out of exhaustion as his long arms spread across the back of the couch and the armrest.
We ended up settling on Italian - pasta was something that seemed to be a passionately shared love. I even managed to order from somewhere within walking distance - and it was decent too. With no lights, we sat on the floor on cushions at either end of the wooden coffee table. The coffee table, like all of the furniture I purchased was in a faux-teak that worked beautifully with the tan coloured couch and the mustard yellow velvet curtains in the living space. Lit candlesticks provided a little glowing ambience and alongside the outside streetlights, we were just able to see well enough for it to be comfortable.
"Thank god I ordered those candles" I remarked, kneeling across the table to take Harry's dishes. "Knew they'd come in handy".
"Just make sure you remember to blow them out... you strike me as the kinda girl who'd forget and end up burning their house down" he chuckled.
"Ouch" I whine-laughed, placing our dishes into the sink before bringing over the bottle of wine. I sat back down closer to Harry now. "More wine?" I asked.
He shook his head with a flat lined grin before mining the motion of a steering wheel. "Better not".
"I always have candles on around the house" I imparted, topping up my glass. "I'm yet to burn a house down".
"Yet being the operative word" Harry chuckled, bringing his knee up to his chest to rest his chin on it.
"Did you ever play with wax as a kid?"
"No" he let out a short amused laugh that drilled dimples into his cheeks as he tried to understand my madness.
"Just me? Ok" I chuckled. "I used to love dipping my fingers into the hot wax and letting it cool and harden on my finger tips".
"Right..." Harry's eyes narrowed on me and his brows furrowed. "And did this 'love'" he used air quotes, "manifest into adulthood, Miss Evie May?"
"It might have" I snickered slightly as I blushed, sucking my lips between my teeth with a timid nod. "Don't knock it till you tried it".
"I'm not knocking anything" he leant back onto his palms again, extending his long legs out before him. "Are you the um, waxer or waxee?"
I tipped my head back with a hearty laugh. "The waxee, I guess".
"What do you like about it?" He spoke with a boyish twitch of his lips, like he was hearing something so scandalous.
"There's a bearable edge of pain that turns me on, I guess" I laughed with a shrug.
"So if I just...." Harry picked up one of the red candles from the table, hovering it before my face and over my chest.
"Jesus, not on this shirt, no" I swat him away with a laugh. "I don't think friends engage in hot wax play either".
"Speaking of friends" his demeanour switched with a sigh as he put the candle back down on the coffee table. "We should talk about last night".
The light mood was instantly sucked from the room as he touched on what I knew was coming. He was alluding to his statement from the previous night: we were not friends.
"You know I want to give things another go... I'm so fucking tired of pretending I don't" he continued. "But I'm not quite there yet".
I nodded slowly, taking in is words.
"I do trust you, I do" he added quickly. "Last night I just..."
"Green eyes personified" I finished for him.
"Yeah" he confirmed. "And that's mostly on me, not you".
I swilled the wine around in my glass, unsure if he was waiting for me to speak or not. I was hesitant to do so, just wanting to hear him out first. I knew what I wanted, my mind was made.
"I'm going to be back on this tour next week and I know you'll be busy... it's a lot of pressure this early on" he continued, his elbow propped on the edge of the table as he raked his fingers through his curly head of hair out of what I observed to be, nerves. "I don't think we should pick up where we left off just yet, but I need you to know I want to". He was yet to meet my eyes as he spoke.
I felt a pang of disappointment in my chest. We wouldn't need to be having this conversation right now if I hadn't fucking ruined things. I had no doubt the pressure he was referring to was what concerned him - how I would cope with the pressure.
"I know" I murmured quietly, trying not to let the disappointment seep into my voice.
"Like, really bad" he added reaching out to clasp my hand. He was yet to meet my eyes as he spoke. "You don't have to wait for me, if you don't want to... I'll understand but yeah, that's where I'm at".
After a moment, his gaze slowly rose to meet mine as his thumb continued to graze the back of my hand.
"If time's what you need, you know I'll wait for you" I confirmed softly to which Harry offered a weak smile.
"I should go, I've got this um, pre-launch show tomorrow night for the bonus track thing" he continued to toy with my hand as he spoke.
"Yeah of course" I nodded meekly. Truthfully I was disappointed he was leaving. "You should go, it's been a big day".
Holding onto the table for leverage, his tall frame rose upright and still holding onto my hand with his other, he pulled me up with him.
"I'd like you to come, if you're free and y'know, want to".
"I'll be there with bells on" I smiled as he dropped my hand between us.
"It's like a cocktail thing, just for some label people and some press, but I know you love your cocktails" he smiled, grabbing his keys and phone off the kitchen bench.
"Yeah cool, that'll be fun" I offered with a flat-lined grin, opening the door for him.
We stood in the doorway for a moment while a heavy magnetism enveloped us. I wanted to kiss him bad, but again, that had to be on his terms. I wasn't going to push it.
Our eyes locked and his tongue lapsed over his bottom lip. My breath hitched as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingertips delicately brushing the skin at my hairline. I felt every nerve ending in my body ignite like the myriad of candles in the room. I couldn't stop my eyes from darting between his eyes and lips when he dipped down, our noses brushing. My eyes fluttered shut, anticipating his kiss as his hot breath hit my lips. The nervy pre-kiss excitement was a feeling I'd been dying to experience with him once more.
"G'night Evie" he murmured, pulling away with a step back before turning on his heels and heading down the stairwell. "I'll message you the details, ok?"
"Ok" I squeaked a barely there whisper, stood in a short-changed daze.
There had been so many times in my life where I felt like I held back saying how I really felt because it was just easier that way. More often than not, I ended up regretting those moments and I felt like tonight was going to be one of those.
I moved around to each candle, blowing them out one at a time before making my way to my cold, dark bedroom. As I lay in bed, I couldn't stop thinking about all the things I could have said. Should have said.
I'd never completely divulged how I really felt with Harry, even when things were good. I don't think he truly understood half of what I felt and I didn't want to regret that, not now after our setbacks.
I pulled up my message app and composed him a message - my own way of telling him all the things I wish I had the balls to say face to face.
Can you do me a favour? When you get home, put on your Hotel California record. Don't ask me why, just do it.