Hi guys!! :D
So...I failed you guys again :( I said I'd try to update in 1-2 weeks and it's been 3. I really do try, honest I do. But I'm a very busy bee I have work and friends and I went on vacation last week and I'm moving in less than a month to an entirely different state so I'm trying to spend as much time with my friends before I move. I'm going to miss them very much :(
Anyway, I hope very much that you enjoy this chapter :) It's kind of a filler chapter, just a lot of fluff. But it was fun to write so I hope you like it :) If you do, please vote and comment :)) <3 :)) <3
Madeline
The little girl’s tap shoes were brand new and so glossy she could see the stage lights mirrored in them. Her taps rang clear as a bell through the auditorium; practically bouncing off of the walls along with one of Nicki Minaj’s crappy songs.
It struck her as rather odd that she would be tap dancing to Nicki Minaj, especially since it was 2003, or so the large white banner draped over the stage said. ‘2003 Pepperidge Hill School of Dance Showcase. Welcome Parents!’ it spelled out in bold, black letters. Of course, the little girl thought that the banner ought to say ‘Welcome Parents and Grandparents!’ because her own parents weren’t in attendance, but her Grandparents were. They sat front row, beaming proudly up at her as she tapped her way through her solo.
Still, her parent’s absence couldn’t put a damper on her mood. She loved dancing. She loved the costumes, the backstage rush, the resonance of hundreds of hands clapping. Just being up on stage reinstated what she’d known since was three years old, that she wanted to be a professional dancer someday. Professional was a big word for an eight year old, but she knew exactly what it meant.
She might be a Radio City Rockette, or a Broadway Star, or a Cirque du Soleil contortionist. Those were all professional jobs. But what she really wanted, what she dreamed about every night the second her hazel eyes fluttered closed was to be a ballerina, for while she loved to tap dance, ballet was what her heart truly desired.
Because she’d been thinking about being professional, and not focusing on her solo, the little girl was caught by surprise when she felt the floor beneath her begin to crack like ice. She put her hands up to her ears as the music grew louder and fuzzier and the stage began to spin. The audience was spinning too, but they seemed unaffected, smiles still stretched across their faces. Her tap shoes slipped from her feet and continued their dance without her. The fissure below her was widening, following her as she tried to flee from it. She tried to scream but the tapping drowned her out. The floor of the stage was swallowing her whole…
I shot up in bed, my heart pounding. Nicki Minaj grated against my eardrums from the clock radio on my bedside table. 3:00 AM was the time blocked out in red on the digital screen. Rubbing my tired eyes, I reached over and hit the round alarm button on the top, silencing Nicki’s nasally ‘singing’. God, she was awful.
I could feel my heartbeat slow from its wild thrashing as my eyes adjusted my dark bedroom. It hadn’t been the first time I’d had a dream about falling. In fact, dreams like this had been frequent ever since I’d fallen through the ice at my Aunt and Uncle’s over a month ago. I was suddenly terrified of falling, and the dreams always left me shaky and wide awake.
My eyes found their way to the black lump next to my bed. My suitcase. Suddenly, I remembered what day it was and why I was up at three in the morning. My heart began to pound all over again. My fingers stumbled blindly over to the lamp on my bedside table and switched it on. Yellow light spilled across my duvet.
In about twenty-four hours, I would be in Sydney, Australia. Today, right now, was the start of an adventure. Or at least, that was what my Grandfather had told me when I’d phoned him with my worries and apprehension about going on tour with the world’s most lusted after boy band the night before.
An adventure. I liked the sound of that.
My eyes darted around my room in exuberance. I only had about thirty minutes until I needed to leave for the airport. That gave me just enough time to dress and sort the marshmallows from the cereal pieces in a bowl of Lucky Charms. I always ate the marshmallows first.
I pulled on a T-shirt and a pair of worn skinny jeans and then stuffed my feet into my favorite pair of Chucks. Definitely not an Isabelle-approved outfit, but considering she was fast asleep beneath her 938462827 thread-count sheets, I didn’t think it really mattered. We’d said our goodbyes last night; the end of Isabelle’s campaign to be the most accommodating cousin ever. The charade had been going on ever since the dinner with Harry and his family. For the past two weeks, she’d been sugar-sweet to me, buying me trendy clothes for the Australia leg of the tour (none of which I planned on wearing) and even offering to lend me her favorite silk pillow for the long flights, which I’d politely declined.
I tiptoed around the flat, packing last minute items into my suitcase and practically inhaling my Lucky Charms. I’d wanted to bring some along on my trip, because long flights made me hungry. But airports had rules and one of them was that you couldn’t take food through airport security. Because I might hide an atomic bomb in a box of cereal. The horror.
I was halfway out the door before I realized that the winter coat I’d been wearing these past couple of months in London was far too heavy for Australia, where February marked the conclusion of summer. I shrugged it off and hung it up in my closet, rummaging around for a lighter jacket. As I pulled my favorite leather one down from the top shelf, something tumbled down with it, landing lightly on my closet floor. Curious, I bent down to find it was a mitten. A red mitten.
I plucked it off of the floor and touched it to my cheek. It was so very soft and smelled vaguely of cologne. His cologne. The scent brought back a torrent of memories, most especially his lips on mine.
I bit the inside of my cheek and shoved the mitten and its pair into the bottom of my suitcase, well aware that they would have no use in Australia.
My eyes passed over the flat one more time as I hovered in the doorway. My hand tightened on the handle of my suitcase. I would miss London and I would miss Isabelle. But stepping out that door meant freedom, something that I’d craved for a long time. I felt a smile curve across my lips the door shut behind me with an assured click.
This was it. There was no going back now.
*****
It was a bleak, damp, cold London morning. But for some reason, Heathrow had the air conditioner running, which meant it was absolutely freezing in the long security line. I wrapped my sweater tightly around myself and clutched the handle of my carry-on bag.
I really hoped that the weather in Australia was favorable because I was in need of some serious sunshine.
I chewed absent-mindedly on my thumbnail. I hated standing in lines by myself. I found myself wishing that I might find Sima or Quinn or Angelina or Kate, the other back-up dancers, to keep me company. Or anyone from the crew of people going on tour with One Direction. There were so many of them; that had been my first reaction when I’d met everyone at the meet and greet party the week before.
In addition to the boys of One Direction, the tour crew consisted of the back-up dancers, the entire security team and their vests, a traveling chef, a personal trainer, a stylist, a make-up artist, the choreographer and assistant choreographer, the band, a bunch of men in suits, a lot of people with iPads who looked very important, the staging and lighting people, the vocal coaches, the PR representatives, and some guy called Tom. I’d found myself wondering how all of these people were going to fit on one private jet.
When I’d voiced my worries to Louis, he’d laughed and explained to me that One Direction’s management had employed an entire team of private planes. He went on to tell me that I worried too much, which was information that I already knew about myself.
Besides the private jet situation, my biggest worry that night had been that the other back-up dancers, whom I would be spending a lot of time with, wouldn’t like me. They were significantly older, ten times more outgoing than I.
To my great relief, they all seemed to genuinely like me. Especially Sima, who was the closest in age to me, being only four years older. They were all so confident; the good kind of confident. Was there a bad kind of confident? I wasn’t sure.
Upon reaching the front of the line, I carefully placed my carry-on bag and shoes in the plastic bins provided and slid them through the metal detector. As I stepped quickly through the scanning machine, I found myself craving chocolate milk. When I’d used to travel with my Grandparents, we’d always gone to Mickey D’s in the Raleigh Airport for chocolate milk.
I thanked the uniformed security man and collected my things, pondering whether I should go and seek out some chocolate milk or find the gate for my flight first.
In a shocking turn of events, I decided to follow my heart (and stomach) instead of my head. I found the nearest McDonalds and ordered the chocolate milk jug off of the Happy Meal menu and one of those fruit and yogurt cups. Grabbing a straw and a napkin, I set off in search of the gate.
Because it was a gate for a private plane, I had to take the shuttle into a more concealed area of the airport. Gate E58 was nestled in a corner, somewhat out of sight. Flight 362 to Hong Kong was spelled out on the TV screen behind the airport personnel seated at the desk. Hong Kong was our connecting flight.
“Maddie!” Sima cried when I flopped into the seat next to her. She plucked a blueberry from my fruit cup. Sima looked entirely too put together for this early in the morning. Her black hair was neatly plaited down her back and she wore a pink top and dark jeans.
“You went to McDonalds and didn’t get me a Frappuccino?” Angelina looked up from Harper’s Bazaar, blonde eyebrow cocked in mock offense.
“Ignore her Maddie,” Quinn folded into the seat across from me, “She’s just bitter because airport security forced her to throw out her face cream because it was more than one-hundred milliliters.”
“I spent like two-hundred bloody Pounds on that cream!” Angelina huffed indignantly, moving her Harper’s Bazaar to cover her face.
Kate snorted and rolled her eyes. She and Quinn shared an all-knowing look.
I giggled sympathetically and sipped my chocolate milk from my straw, letting Sima pick through my fruit cup for all of the blueberries.
I felt someone’s eyes on me. A nervous sensation ran up my spine as I turned around in my seat. My eyes met a pair of twinkling jade ones. There stood Harry, hair tucked into a beanie, Green Bay Packers T-shirt clinging to his torso. A cocky smirk adorned his features as he held eye-contact with an intense gaze. He’d been looking at me like that a lot lately, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.
The rest of One Direction was with him as well, hair scruffily swept into beanies and snapbacks. Niall was consuming of a bag of peanut M&M’s like it wasn’t four in the morning. They’d obviously just gotten here; their security team and was fussing about them.
Harry was still staring at me with that depth in his eyes. I chewed timidly on my straw and lifted my hand in a tiny wave. He grinned back at me, dimples making an appearance at the corners of his lips.
The boys were coming over, passing us on the way to their seats. Zayn, Liam and Louis greeted us, Louis giving me a little wink as he stepped past me.
“Hi Maddie-O. Fancy an M&M?” Niall held out the bag to me, a happy smile crossing his face.
“She’s allergic, mate,” Harry cuffed the back of Niall’s head, grinning at me all the while.
“To M&M’s?!” Niall looked horrified.
“To peanuts, Niall.”
“Oh.”
Niall pulled back his bag of sweets, his expression fading into a sad pout, as if the fact that I couldn’t eat peanuts or peanut butter devastated him.
I looked up and found myself face to face with Harry.
“Good morning, love.” Harry’s voice was low and gravely from sleep. Before I knew what was happening, my chocolate milk was being pried from my fingers and the straw captured between Harry’s lips.
“Mmm. Tastes good, Tinker Bell.” He gave me a lopsided smirk and handed me back my chocolate milk, licking his lips. My cheeks went pink. Harry knew exactly how to make me blush.
Smug little fucker.
Harry stepped past me and sauntered after his bandmates, who all lounged languidly in chairs a couple of rows down.
“Do you know him well?”
I turned towards Sima in surprise. Her face was alight with curiosity.
“Hmm?”
“Harry. It seems like you know each other well.” Sima spoke quietly, so that others in our vicinity couldn’t hear.
I glanced over to where Harry was sprawled out on one of the chairs, his long legs stretched across the carpeted aisle.
“We’re acquainted. I know his girlfriend.”
Angelina’s head popped up over her magazine, her eyes comically wide, “You know Isabelle Blair?”
She waved away Quinn’s instructions to be quiet, eagerly awaiting my answer.
“She’s my cousin, actually. We live together.”
Angelina was practically writhing with excitement, “I love her! I was just reading an article about her.” She flipped her magazine over and proudly displayed a page layout that boasted the title ‘Isabelle Blair: Model of the Moment’. Underneath the title there was a lot of text and gorgeous headshot of Isabelle.
“I can’t stand her,” Kate spoke up, tapping her fingers gently against the cover of the thick book she was reading, “She wears animal furs.”
“Kate!” Sima scolded. Kate was very serious to the point of radical about animal activism.
“Sorry Maddie,” Kate shook her head lightly and smiled, “But there’s no excuse for animal abuse.”
I returned the smile, reassuring her that I wasn’t offended by her dislike for my cousin.
“Your opinion is completely invalid, Kate. Just look at the book you’re reading,” Angelina stabbed an accusing finger at Kate’s book, as if it was the book that didn’t like Isabelle, not Kate. “Wuthering Heights. Just reading the title is giving me menopause!”
“It’s actually quite an interesting book. And, if you ask me, the whole profession of being a lingerie model is one baptism of stupid.”
“No one asked you Kate! That’s the point--”
The loudspeaker interrupted Angelina, informing us that it was time to board. Sima and I left Quinn to sort out the bickering, collecting our things and standing in the line to board the plane. Sima playfully rolled her eyes, as we could still hear strands of Kate and Angelina’s argument.
“They went to primary school together. They’re always fighting,” Sima whispered in my ear.
I pulled my passport out of my bag, remembering what my Grandma used to say about people who never seemed to get along. When someone was mean to you, it usually meant they loved you, but they were trying not to show it.
That was why Isabelle had been so furious with me in the bathroom two weeks ago at the dinner-from-hell with Harry’s parents. She loved me because I was her family and she had my back.
As if he could read my thoughts, Harry handed his ticket and passport to the flight attendant and then turned to look at me, eyes locking with mine again.
The lady, dressed in the navy blue suit that all airport employees wore, was trying to hand Harry back his ticket, having already scanned it.
“Sir,” she tapped him on his shoulder. Startled, he tore his gaze away from me and back to the slightly annoyed flight attendant, “Your ticket?”
“Sorry ma’am,” Harry instantly recovered. He shot her is trademark charming smile to win her over once again, “I just remembered I wanted chocolate milk.”
*****
The first thing that caught my attention as I left the confines of the plane and stepped down the stairs onto the asphalt was the smell of the sea. The salty scent filled my senses, alerting me that the ocean must be nearby. The second thing I noticed was how blue the Australian sky was, so blue that I wanted to reach up and touch it to make sure that it was real. The sun, resting at the height of the turquoise sky, cast its rays onto my skin. I turned my face up to it, closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth on my cheeks.
“You can’t just stand in the middle of the runway, Maddie.”
I blinked, my eyes focusing on the person in front of me. The bright sun and blue sky turned his green eyes almost cobalt in color. His tall frame towered over me, the usual smirk stretched across his face.
“I..I..”
“Come on. The bus is waiting for us.” Harry placed a warm hand on the small of my back, gently guiding me towards the bus. In his other hand, he held a small brown leather book, his beanie, a pen and a bottle of water.
‘Welcome to Sydney’ read a sign on the green next to the runway. The roar of planes drowned out the motor of the bus.
I climbed the steps of the bus, returning the smile of the driver, and sat down on the seat in front of Sima and Angelina. The airport security was finishing loading our bags into the storage compartment of the bus. One Direction’s management had the bus pick us up right on the airport runway, so the boys wouldn’t be mobbed by fans.
To my surprise, Harry took the seat next to me, earning me a curious look from Sima and Angelina. I muffled a yawn behind my hand, my eyelids fluttering from repressed exhaustion. I hadn’t slept at all in the last twenty-four hours. I found it impossible to sleep on planes.
Pulling my phone from the pocket of my rumpled jeans, I switched it on to check my messages. I had a couple from Thalia, Diego and Violet, as well as a few more from friends back home that I kept in touch with. There was one from my dad, instructing me to ‘Please tell your mother that the landscaper is coming next Tuesday to work on the lawn.’ Whenever they fought, I was always used as the go-between. Please tell your mother this or please tell your father that. It didn’t matter that I was three-quarters of the way around the world. I sighed and shot off a text to my mother.
The last couple of texts were from my Grandfather, cheering me on and wishing me luck. They were all slightly misspelled, because he really wasn’t the best at texting. In fact, I was sure I was the only person he texted. I giggled at the thought of my Grandfather tapping away texts to his elderly fishing friends.
I set my phone aside and tried to fight the fatigue washing over me. But the sun was so warm and the bus seat was surprisingly comfortable and I felt that part of my brain that was always chattering with never ending thoughts drifting into fogginess.
“Falling asleep on me?”
My eyes shot open at Harry’s voice, very close to my ear. He grinned down at me, smile lines crinkling under his eyes. Across the aisle from us, Lou the stylist and her husband were also looking at me, knowing smiles on their faces.
I blinked, my mind not completely functioning. I tried to say something about jet lag but what came out instead was, “Packers.”
Harry’s eyes flicked down to his t-shirt and back to me. Everyone around us laughed, including the two middle aged men sitting in front of us, who had turned in their seats. Why was everyone looking at me?
“Someone took a bit too much NyQuil,” remarked one of the men. They were publicists or managers or something, but I couldn’t remember their names.
“Here, hun. Use this as a pillow.” Lou passed me her sweater and I thanked her sleepily.
I bunched up the material and placed it underneath my head, which was starting to feel very heavy.
“Am I going to have to carry you up to your hotel room, Maddie?” Harry tucked his own jacket round my shoulders.
“M’no. Jus wake ‘m up when we get there.”
He chuckled.
I couldn’t be sure, because my eyes were closed, but I felt someone’s fingertips brush over my cheek bones as I drifted off. The touch was so gentle, it could’ve just been the wind.
*****
The evening sunshine woke me from sleep. I groggily lifted my head to find that I was curled up underneath a fluffy white duvet among quite a few pillows. Pushing myself up onto my elbows, I realized that I was in a hotel room. I blinked, ridding my eyes of the last bits of sleepiness, and swung my feet over the edge, making contact with the smooth wooden floor.
I was still wearing my jeans and t-shirt from earlier, now considerably more rumpled than before. My shoes had been placed neatly beside the bed next to my unopened suitcase and my phone and room key sat on one of the bedside tables. I couldn’t remember even walking up here from the bus.
Glancing round the rest of the room, I found that it was quite luxuriously decorated, probably the nicest hotel room I’d ever stayed in. There was even a balcony, directly facing the crystal blue ocean. I padded over to the glass door and nudged it open, slipping through and sliding it closed behind me. It was much cooler out here, the ocean breeze lifting the ends of my hair and blowing them around my face.
I observed that the hotel was built in a large U, the open end facing the water. The area between the lobby and the beach featured two pools, what looked to be a restaurant, gardens, and other things of that nature. This area was buzzing with life; children splashing and squealing in the pools, music playing, and the hum of voices from the bar.
The clock by the bed told me it was 7:04 PM. I’d been asleep for about seven hours. I wandered into the bathroom, discarding my wrinkled clothes onto the floor and quickly showering. I pulled on shorts and a top and wrung as much water from my hair as I could. I slipped my hotel key into my pocket and left the room, shutting the heavy door behind me.
I was in the elevator before I realized that I’d forgotten my phone on the bedside table. Too lazy to go back, I pressed the button for the lobby, hoping that I would find someone that I knew on the ground floor.
Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you saw it, I found Sima and the other girls lolling in the hot tub with a small group of overly-tanned, overly-muscled young men. Alcoholic beverage in hand, a tipsy Quinn reached up to give me a hug, soaking my shirt with chlorinated water in the process.
“Join us, Baby,” One of the men called out to me in a thick Aussie accent, patting the seat between him and his friend. He leaned back on his wrists, eyeing me up and down, a leer playing on his face, “We’ve got room for one more.”
Despite cajoling from the girls, I refused his offer quickly. His not-so-friendly smile was making me uncomfortable. And I’d forgotten my swimsuit in my hotel room. And I was hungry. There were a million excuses for why I shouldn’t get in that hot tub.
I waved goodbye and decided I was in the mood for barbecue. Dodging two soaking wet children with squirt guns, I found my way to the hotel restaurant; a small, shaded bar built around a palm tree. A sign told guests to seat themselves, but all of the tables were taken, so I sat down at the end of the bar. The barman took my order and left me to watch the sunset glistening on the ocean like sidewalk chalk on a rainy day.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I wondered for the thousandth time how he always knew where to find me. My eyes left the horizon to meet his green ones. He was leaning against the bar, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks and a smirk. I hadn’t even seen him walk over.
His wet curls hung in ringlets over his eyes, water dripping from the strands. My eyes followed one particular droplet as it trailed past his collarbones and tattoos and down his muscled torso, disappearing along with his chiseled V-line under the band of his swim trunks.
I suddenly didn’t know where to look. I fixed my eyes on the bar counter, trying to hide my blush.
Harry dimpled, dropping into the stool beside me, “Did you have a nice nap, love?”
I nodded, bravely meeting his gaze. I wondered if he knew the effect his eyes had on me. His wide grin said he did.
“Are you really a Green Bay Packers fan?” I blurted, feeling my cheeks heat the second the words left my mouth. I always said the stupidest things around Harry. I couldn’t help it; his intensity and gorgeousness made my brain turn to mush.
He laughed, brushing his ankle against mine. His slightly damp skin left goose bumps in its wake, “That depends on whether or not you like them,” he said, his toes gently brushing the side of my foot.
My Dad was a hardcore Chicago Bears fanatic, but I wasn’t really interested in football. My parents got really into it, screaming at the television on Thanksgiving. “My entire family are Chicago Bears fans,” I told him. The Bears and the Packers had a ferocious rivalry.
Harry gave me an enormous cheeky smile, “Damn, I really hate those Packers.”
I giggled, my eyes drifting from his face and falling down to where our feet touched. I wiggled my toes in my leather flip flops, surprised by how much larger Harry’s feet were compared to my tiny ones.
The bartender set my BBQ ribs in front of me, and I softly thanked him, giving the man a small smile, which he returned. He then scowled at Harry for dripping water all over the bar. Harry responded by ordering an iced tea, his eyes never leaving my face.
I tried a rib, finding it to be absolutely delicious. The sticky barbecue sauce smothered over the ribs covered my fingertips. I wiped them on a napkin.
Harry watched me, stealing a chip from my plate. The growing darkness cast shadows over his handsome features.
“You have sauce all over your face.”
Harry smiled softly as I looked up from my ribs, embarrassed. He shook his head lightly, teasing me.
“Come here.”
To my surprise, Harry dipped a napkin into my water and gently dabbed at my face with it, removing the barbecue sauce. He brought his plump lower lip between his teeth in concentration, hand under my chin to keep my face steady. Twinkling green eyes roamed over my face as Harry surveyed his work.
“There,” he spoke, the sticky napkin dropping into his lap. His fingers left my chin and brushed my temple, before wrapping themselves in a strand of my still slightly damp hair. “Perfect,” he mumbled almost breathlessly, the smile vanishing from his lips, green eyes darkening. I froze under his gaze, my heart fluttering, the air around us seeming to thicken. Everything seemed to still, the only noises Harry’s slightly uneven breathing and the distant rolling of waves.
“Harry!”
A familiar voice crashed through the intensity. Harry jerked away from me, turning abruptly in his seat to face the voice and almost knocking over his iced tea in the process.
I frowned, Isabelle’s voice suddenly resonating in my head. You’re digging yourself a hole, Madeline. Stay away from him. The words bounced around inside my brain, before I swallowed tightly and pushed my food away from me.
“Harry! You up for a game of footie—Oh! Hi Maddie!” Niall, wet blonde hair crammed messily into a snapback, suddenly noticed me. He shot me a grin, tossing his ball from one hand to the other. Beside him stood a young man around the same age with straw-like brown hair and a big smile. Josh, One Direction’s drummer.
“Hi,” I returned their smiles. Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, pushing his chestnut curls off of his face.
“You done with this?” the bartender whisked away my half-eaten plate when I nodded, “I’ll be right back with your check.”
“Just put it on the tab under Modest Management,” Harry instructed him. The man made a noise of compliance.
“Who’s playing?” Harry questioned of Niall. I wiggled my toes, wondering if I should go back to my room or join the older girls in the hot tub.
“Me, Sandy, Josh and Louis.”
“Alright,” Harry stood up, shoving his phone into the pocket of his swim trunks and brushing a hand through his hair. Niall cheered, slapping him on the shoulder and shouting something in his thick Irish accent that couldn’t be understood.
“You coming, Maddie?” Harry glanced over his shoulder at me, the corner of his lips quirking up in a lopsided smile. The look made my heart beat a little faster, but I shook my head, not wanting to intrude on ‘lad time.’
“I think I’m going to take a walk on the beach.” I hadn’t yet been down to the ocean; the tangy smell and hum of the waves were calling to me.
He touched his bottom lip gently, forehead creasing. “Alone? It’s getting dark.”
“I’ll be okay,” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes. Worry lines were on display around his eyes. I knew he was remembering the last time I’d gone on a walk at night. I’d almost drowned.
After making me promise to be careful, Harry left with Niall and Josh and I made my way down the pavestone steps towards the pull of the ocean. The sky was dark now, the sun having departed past the horizon, only a couple of orange shadows tracing the outline of distant clouds. I could see all the way down the coast; the flickering city lights replicated on the smooth black water and on small splotches that I knew were boats. Reds, whites and golds ornamented the ebony surface. It was far more glamorous than the beaches in North Carolina, which were basically stretches of white sand decorated with beach grass and sea turtle nests.
Still, I felt a lump rise in my throat when I thought of home. It didn’t matter where I was in the world, I would always be homesick for North Carolina. I felt in my pocket for my phone to call my Grandfather, but then remembered that I’d left it in my hotel room.
I kicked off my flip flops and looped my fingers around the straps, the shoes dangling from my fingers. I walked, enjoying the feel of the sand between my toes. There were only a couple of other people on the beach, silhouettes in the dark.
The cool wind off the ocean whipped tendrils of my hair against my face. It was a nippy night, a reminder that summer was almost over. I wrapped my arms around myself, the salty air chilling my skin. I shivered, scolding myself for not bringing a sweater.
My pinky toe scraped against something hard, and I bent down to dig the item from the sand. It was a seashell, pink and slightly broken on one edge. I closed my fingers around the small object, reveling at how smooth it felt against the sensitive palm of my hand. I stood up, moving just close enough to the ocean for the very tips of the frothy surf to touch my toes.
“Maddie!”
I turned, unable to hide my smile. Harry was jogging towards me, still shirtless and grinning ear to ear.
“I thought you were going to play football?” I asked him once he reached me, panting lightly. He shook his head, dimples appearing at the corners of his sheepish smile.
“I was, but…” he trailed off, twisting the object in his hands before holding it out to me, “I…I thought you might be cold. So I brought you a shirt.”
I blinked up at him. He appeared almost embarrassed. It wasn’t often that Harry’s confidence and charm evaded him. He looked so cute, his cheeks slightly flushed and his curls messily strewn across his forehead instead of styled in their usual quiff.
I took the flannel shirt from Harry and shrugged it on. It smelled like him; laundry detergent and cologne and boy. He’d run all the way out here just to make sure I was warm. The gesture was so incredibly sweet and thoughtful, just like everything else that Harry did.
“Thank you, Harry,” I breathed, turning my face up to his. I could feel his breath on my face as he smiled down at me, an indescribable emotion in his green eyes. Somehow, I knew that it had been him who had carried me from the bus to my hotel room and tucked me into bed, even though I’d told him not to.
“I’m sorry,” Harry shook his head, his gaze momentarily leaving mine, “I just can’t seem to leave you alone.”
Behind him, the lights of the city glimmered on the water. Two shining green eyes made me feel lost at sea, even with my feet placed firmly on the ground.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, wrapping his shirt tighter around myself, “I..I don’t want you to.”
The tide washed around our ankles and then drew back, uncovering a treasure trove of seashells just like the one I’d picked up.
Harry chuckled huskily, his larger hand finding mine. He laced our fingers together, coaxing me further into the Australian water.
.
I am so sorry if you are a native Australian and I got anything wrong. I've never been to Australia before, though I would love to visit.
Ugh the books I have to read for required summer reading are sooooooooooooooooooo boring. I'm about this close to giving up and just reading spark notes :(
Anyway, what did you think? ;;;;;;) Do you like where the story is going?
Once again, I'd just like to say THANK YOU SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH for your sweet comments. They warm my heart and put a smile on my face and I am thankful to have each and every one of you reading and taking the time to comment. I wish you guys could see my reactions to your comments, I literally giggle and ballroom dance around my room with my dog its embarrassing. :) <3 :) <3 :)
OMF the pictures of Harry and the boys in America and in the pool in Miami like seriously can you imagine going on tour with Harry and he's like always barefoot and making pointless vines and everyone around him is just like sure harry i'll take a picture of you next to a tumbleweed sure harry i'll wrap security tape around your perfectly muscled body.
Song on the side is flowers in your hair by the lumineers i don't even know why i post songs on the side bc they literally have nothing to do with this story whaaaaa
This chapter is dedicated to Gabugaloo because they have commented on literally every one of my chapters and supported me from the beginning. Thank you so much bae, you're perf and ily :) It means the world :))
There are literally so many of you that deserve a dedication. I wish I could dedicate a chapter for all of you <3333333
don't you just hate it when your dad is in the same room and your trying to look at pictures of niall and harry on jet skiis and he keeps looking over your shoulder bc i do go away dad your cramping my style
like seriously cut your shit and go rewatch the miami heat beat the spurs.
LETS ALL CRY BC THE PICTURE ON THE SIDE W0W HE REALLY LOVES HIS FANS PLEASE FUCK ME IN THE BACK OF YOUR RANGE ROVER
Don't forget to vote, follow and comment :) ILYSM now its time for pizza byeeeeeee :)