May 23
HARRY
My heart was hammering in my chest. So hard, in fact, I could hear my pulse clearly in my ears. My breathing was regular, in rhythm with my motion, beads of sweat sliding down my face. I could feel them move along my neck, down my back, soaking me through. But it didn't matter. I needed this. My body needed this release. It had been far too long since I had been able to exert myself this way, and now that I had finally given in and committed to it, it was a relief.
My feet hit the pavement in a constant, easy run. Tiny splashes of water sprinkling out from the edges with each step, I kept my pace even. I weaved in and out of others on the street, each making their own way to home, work, or wherever. It was raining, as it seemed to have done constantly since my arrival, but I had given in to the idea of being wet. It was actually refreshing, running in the rain. This had been my third run in as many days.
I would like to think that my renewed interest in physical fitness had come from personal inspiration. I had gone to a gym fairly regularly back in New York, but my attendance waned after I met a certain, tenacious blonde.
When we first met, I used my time at the gym, or running through the familiar streets of the city to work off the irritation she brought me. Always so quizzical, despite her promise to keep her questions to herself. I used the time to push her from my mind, instead focusing on the sweat, and the pain that I welcomed. Over time, my workouts were a relief of tension and pent up energy, which again could be attributed to her. Only this time, it was a different kind of energy I found I needed relief of.
Niall had more than once told me to just go out and find some girl. Take her to bed, and get over this fixation I had with Lane. In his mind, there was no better way to get over a girl, than by literally getting over another. In the past, it was what I would have done. If irked or tense, it was a welcome release in every way. But at that time, even the thought of being with someone else seemed bothersome to me. Sure, it might have been fun, and I could sure use a good fuck to get some of this tension out, but deep down I knew it wouldn't help. Because I knew it wouldn't be her.
She was what I wanted.
As we spent more time together, I let my workouts fall to the wayside in favor of being with her. Lunches, walks, whatever she wanted. I honestly didn't care if she wanted to go to fucking Build A Bear and make some ridiculous matching set, if it was what she wanted, I would have done it. I would have done anything for her. And still would. Hell, I already did.
Except tell her how I feel. That seemed to still be an issue I couldn't get over.
Of course, telling her anything lately hadn't been an issue, since it had been three fucking days since I had last heard from her at all. I had spent the majority of my day following the receipt of her first email checking my messages, on my phone or computer at work, waiting for a response. More than once it proved to be helpful, making me appear busy as Miss Much-too-flirty would swing by my desk. She always seemed to come by 'just to say hi'. I stayed polite, but kept the interactions as short as possible.
By the end of that day, with still no word from her, I was wound tighter than I had been in months. That was when I decided it was time to get some exercise. I had yet to find a gym in the area, and at the moment all I wanted was to sweat, and breathe, and feel the ache in my muscles that came with cardio. So I pulled on my sweats, tied up my old trainers, and hit the streets.
Three consecutive nights now, following work, I ran the streets of Seattle near my apartment. It served a dual purpose, both providing me the blissful release of energy and distraction I needed, and also helping me familiarize myself with my new neighborhood. I hadn't done much wandering since I arrived, my mind much too tied up in settling in, and worrying about her.
Turning the corner to my block, I slowed my pace, my legs burning with the buildup of lactic acid that I loathed but craved. It was a bearable, cathartic pain, and the main purpose of this endeavor. Stalling in front of my building, I paused, bending over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath. Checking my watch, I smiled. Only three days in, and I already improved my time. Maybe I wasn't as out of shape as I thought.
Replacing my hands to my knees, I leaned my backside against the cold stone wall of my building, taking a moment. The rain was falling in a light mist, and it was almost cleansing as it mixed with the sweat on my skin. My clothes were soaked, sticking to my body, but I ignored the irritating feeling.
It was only then that I remembered being in a similar position, my hands on my knees, breathless after a sprint, only a week before.
Be careful.
My own words echoed in my mind, and I stood abruptly, shaking my head at myself. God, I was such a wanker.
Pulling open the door, I stepped into my building, making my way to my floor.
Now that my run was over, the exhilaration that came with exercise slowly fading, I was left again with my thoughts.
Three days. I hadn't heard a peep from her in three damn days. I couldn't help but worry that something had happened to her. She had only just arrived, and had told me in her first message that they were well guarded. Surely, she couldn't have gotten herself into trouble already. But the thought had haunted me since the moment she mentioned the assignment, and it was a hard habit to break, this worrying about the girl.
The other irksome thought that didn't seem to want to bugger off, was my concern about her response to my email. I had kept it light, flirty, like we always spoke. Not that either of us were particularly verbose on a regular basis, but we had our moments of clarity and disclosure. Now that we were relying on writing alone as our only form of communication, I found myself trying to think of things to say to her. What would she want to know? Would she find this funny? Would she like this?
In person, we were both happy with the quiet, and silence. I had never met anyone quite like her, so much like myself, in that regard. It was pleasant, and relaxing. Well, when we weren't bickering, I suppose.
My email had been light, and casual, with the exception of my sign off. I had wondered, after hitting send, if it would confuse her. Or irritate her. Since neither of us had admitted any true feelings, but I had a feeling we both knew there was more between us than casual friendship, would my all the love cross a line that she didn't want to face?
The thought slipped into my mind increasingly often the longer it took her to respond. I had decided, about half way through my run and after passing a young, blonde woman who looked far too much like her, that if she didn't respond by tonight, I would email again tomorrow. For no other purpose than to let her know I was thinking of her.
Because I was. Constantly.
The moment I was inside my door, I started to strip. It was one of the perks of living alone, the act of being able to be butt ass naked whenever you wanted. As much as I hated the sight of my body, the feeling of being naked all the time was something I had always loved. I could remember when I was younger, my mother telling me stories of when I was a toddler. I was always naked. Running around the yard, playing in the living room. Apparently once I even tried to strip right in the middle of the grocery. My mother was mortified, but apparently the other shoppers got quite a thrill out of my 'little willy'.
Once stripped of my drenched clothes, I tossed them into the corner of the bathroom, turning on the shower. I took my time, letting the water both cleanse me and warm me. After bathing, I let my mind wander to Lane, and what she could be doing now.
The thought of her made me anxious, and honestly, sexually frustrated. Being away from her this week just made me long for her more than I had been before she left. I had considered, countless times, to tell her how I felt, then to show her in no uncertain terms. She was beautiful, and passionate, and addictive in a way no other girl I had ever met had been. I had never felt this way before, and honestly never thought I would. I didn't think I was capable. But then her. The memory of having her pressed up against her living room window, the feeling of her body against mine, her hands in my hair, caused me to emit a shaky breath.
Fuck. I better quit this shit now unless I want to just jerk off in the shower.
Turning off the water, I stepped out into the cooler air of the bathroom, wrapping a towel around my waist. Using another to wipe the water droplets from my hair, I lightly toweled off, before heading into the living room, and sitting down in front of my laptop.
Even though I had been disappointed countless times over the last few days, I couldn't help the little flicker of hope that she had written. Opening my email, my breath stalled when I saw her name. My finger couldn't click on her message fast enough, my wide eyes tracing her words.
From: Lane Jennings
To: Harry Styles
Date: May 23
Subject: amazing
Hey!
Sorry I have taken so long to write back, but its been busy around here. We've been getting up early, and not going to bed until late, with hardly a minute in between. I've loved every second of it, and am not even complaining about the lack of sleep.
It is so eye opening here, Harry. I've seen things in the last three days I never would have seen anywhere else. And the people here, they are amazing. I think you would really love this.
I'm really happy with the images I've taken so far. Rob, our team lead, is going to be sending the pictures back to NG later this week, and I'm nervous for what my reception will be. I know you're going to tell me not to worry, but I can't help it. But even if they don't use any, I am so happy with them.
Tell me about the manuscript you're reading. What is it about the heroine that you don't like? I haven't even had a chance to read any of the books I put on my e-reader. I'm going to fall behind, lol.
Miss you
Lane x
I exhaled loudly, leaning back against my couch. Finally! It was as if she had breathed life back into me with just a fucking email.
God, I was pathetic.
Leaning forward again, my elbows on my knees, I read her message again. I smiled as she described her experience so far. She seemed to be genuinely happy, and so damn excited about it all. I sighed, feeling a little more resolved that I had made the right decision in letting her go. If it made her this happy, then it was the right choice.
Of course, her mentioning that I would like it there increased the size of my smile. Was she thinking about me? Maybe she was doing what I had been doing, seeing things during my day, and wondering her reaction. Would she like this? What would she say to that? Honestly, taking part in something like she was had never been a consideration to me before, but now that she mentioned it, I wanted to literally hop on the next plane there, and be with her.
I snorted when I got to the part of her asking about the manuscript. I had finished the book the day before, the stupid heroine choosing to stay across the country with the 'safe, predictable' guy, rather than the man that had her heart completely. Stupid broad. Of course, I couldn't tell her what it was about the book that bothered me so much, since it was for no other reason than the similarities between the two of us. Overall, the book had been good, and from a literary standpoint I could see why the author chose the ending she did. The whole ' heartbreak and difficult choices' bullshit. I gave it a fair review, my notes thorough. I should be hearing back from my boss on my work on it soon.
Reading over her closing, my heart gave a little clench.
Miss you
Did she? The thought made me grin like a bloody fool, but I didn't even care. I had been worried that my own sign off had been a little too propositional, and may scare her off. Especially if she was still mad about the whole scene at the airport. But it would seem it had the opposite effect, causing her to show her hand on the table as well.
It was sad how much those two little words pleased me.
Hitting reply, I set to work.
From: Harry Styles
To: Lane Jennings
Date: May 23
Subject: about time
Well hello stranger
Its good to hear from you. I was starting to think you had fallen off the edge of the earth. I was even starting to consider sending out a search party, but I didn't want to be too extreme. You know me, I'm nothing if not a calm and sensible individual.
I'm glad you're having a good time. I have no doubt that it is beautiful there, and that you will have some amazing shots. You always do. I can't wait to see some. And I'm sure I would like it there, but more so the company than the surroundings. Maybe I should come there and teach English as a second language, or cooking classes? I make a mean spaghetti, you know.
I finished the manuscript. It was good, overall. The heroine never did regain my favor though. Kind of a foolish girl, but overall it was a good story. I should hear from my boss later next week on how well I reviewed it.
Stilling my hands, I considered the next sentence that had immediately come to my mind. I wanted to write it, but at the same time, wasn't sure how forward to be. Although, so far, I hadn't exactly been cautious in my words. Our climate, while warming, was still tumultuous. I didn't want to press my hand too quickly.
But then again, so far the chances I had taken seemed to have worked out well. Letting her go, while painful and one of the hardest things I had ever had to do, had made her this happy. She had been there less than a week, and I could almost see her beaming smile through the text on my computer screen. And really, all I wanted was to make her happy. Even if it meant being away from me.
Deciding to be honest, since it had been working in my favor so far, I let my hands type.
I miss talking to you. I miss your voice, even though you were usually just telling me off. You should call, if you can. Or Skype? I've never used Skype, but I could probably figure it out. I would love to see you.
Hope to talk to you soon
All the love
H
Hitting send before I even had a moment to read over my message, and inevitably second guess every damn word I wrote, I sat back against my couch again.
Lane seemed to be more open with me through writing, and I with her. Maybe this worlds apart thing was going to help us both get to where I wanted to be.
And where I wanted to be, was next to her.