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For a moment, I almost forget where I am as I take in the unfamiliar surroundings. My eyes have trouble adjusting to the harsh light streaming in through the windows, and I squint my eyes to better my focus. My eyes scan the room and I spot my white lace dress on the floor from the night before, and slowly recall the events from last night as they unfold in my head.
My thoughts are like quick flashes in my mind. The limo, the art opening, Max, the endless champagne, the photograph, the game, and Harry.
Harry.
I smile fondly thinking back to the heated moment we had last night and my hand instinctively reaches for his side of the bed.
Cold.
When I'm content that I'm rested enough to get up, I walk myself on the cool floorboards to Harry's en suite bathroom. I splash my face with cool water to wake me up properly, and I wipe the sleep from my eyes.
I brush my teeth, and pull my hair back into a high ponytail.
"Harry?" I call out.
Nothing.
I patter out of the room and hear him talking to someone. Who could he be talking to at this time? I follow his voice and am led to the lounge room.
"Christ, you scared me," Harry exclaims, startled by my silent entrance.
"Who's there dear?" a woman's voice asks, and it appears to be coming from his laptop. Skype perhaps?
"It's Ava," he tells the person on the other end of the computer. "Ava, come say hello to my mum," he says and motions with his hand for me to come over to him.
I freeze dead in my tracks. Is he insane? I'm not meeting his mother like this! I haven't had any time at all to prepare, and I probably look terrible at this time. I mouth 'no', to Harry and this only amuses him. The last thing I would want her to think is that I stayed the night. I don't want her thinking I'm that kind of girl.
"Don't be shy," he smirks, in a sing-song tone. "Get over here."
He's really enjoying this.
I slowly approach the laptop screen and taking a seat next to Harry, I'm faced with a smiling, beautiful brunette woman. I'm very mindful to only show my upper half as I'm still in my underwear.
"Hi," I smile and wave to the lens. I instantly feel really silly doing so, but she waves back and says hello.
"You're just the prettiest thing," she gushes. "Even more beautiful than in the pictures."
I try to understand which pictures she is talking about and realise she's referring to the magazines. It hasn't exactly dawned on me just yet that other parts of the world have seen them. It's easy to overlook that kind of thing when your life as you knew it was falling to pieces.
"Thank you," I smile back. "You're honestly so beautiful yourself, Anne."
"Oh, I like this one," she addresses Harry. "You'll have to keep her around," she decides, laughing warmly.
The smile reaches her eyes genuinely. Kind of like the way it is with Harry. I decide right away that I really like her.
"Is that so?" he ponders smiling, resting his chin on his fist in mock thought. "Ava had a big night out last night, didn't you," he smiles, making fun of me. "I'm actually trying to figure out how she manages to still look this nice."
I elbow him playfully, and hope that she can't see me blushing through her computer screen.
Anne then mentions the magazine articles.
"I'm so sorry petal that you got involved in all of this mess," she apologises. "It really is one of the few negative sides of the whole thing, and I hope it doesn't put you off my Harry."
"No, it's okay," I shrug. "Oh, but it might be too late for that. I'm already put off by him," I wink. Harry pretends to be insulted and she laughs, shaking her head.
"So when are you planning on bringing Ava to London? You haven't been home in what feels like forever Harry."
I'm taken aback by her comment and am sure the confusion is plain on my face, as it didn't even cross my mind that I would ever go to London with him. The most that I thought I would ever get out of this was to spend a lot of quality time together here with him, and then reluctantly have to let him go. It doesn't make sense that someone like me could fit into his life.
"Soon, I hope. If she agrees to come with me that is. We have the Brits coming up soon, so I'll be back in the country for that."
"Oh good," she replies happily and directs to me, "You'll love the Brits dear. The awards nights are always a good night out. Gem hasn't shut up about the after party."
This is the first time I've heard about this and feel a little awkward, as Harry hasn't really invited me to go with him. I smile and nod, and Harry tells Anne we need to go and make some breakfast.
We say goodbye and Anne tells me she hopes we meet soon, and I decide I really like this woman. Any woman that can raise a guy like Harry must be a godsend. Harry closes the laptop shut and heads to the kitchen, while I ponder everything that just happened. Somehow I'm even more confused about our 'relationship' than I was before we Skype'd.
"So what did you think of old Mumsy?" he asks, while rifling through the cupboards looking for something for us to eat.
"She's honestly so lovely. I really like her."
"I can tell she likes you too," he smiles over. "We may have to go out to get something. Do you mind? It's just that there's nothing in here really."
"That's fine, I'll just go and get changed."
He looks me over as I walk out of the room and says,
"Or you could stay like that..." just loud enough for me to hear.
"Oi!" I tell him off, "Don't be cheeky!" Despite acting offended, I can't help the smile forming on my face as I walk off.
I get changed into my clothes from yesterday - mostly strewn haphazardly around the room, and meet a cheerful Harry in the entranceway.
"Now I feel a little underdressed," he laughs, referring to my outfit. I think he looks great. He's wearing a tight pair of darker blue jeans for a change, a light grey tee, and his look is complete with a dark green headscarf. I never really thought of a guy pulling off a headscarf before, but then again, it's Harry.
I ask him to zip my dress back up and I smile to myself as I think less than twelve hours earlier he was undressing me, and now he's helping redress me, and I wonder if he's having similar thoughts.
"Right, you all set?" he asks with his keys in his hand.
I nod and walk to his car while he locks up. I hear a strange noise and turn around to see a man in his car across the road. I squint to see what he's doing and I see a camera flash.
Shít!
I try to unlock the car door but Harry has the keys. "Harry," I call out nervously, while trying to keep my face covered. "Harry!"
He's at my door in a matter of seconds and opens it for me, ushering me inside. He then gets in his side of the door and reverses out of his drive quickly. Being spotted in yesterday's clothes - that can't be good. I feel a sense of relief though as we begin driving, before I see that same car in the rear view mirror.
"Harry, I think he's following us."
He checks his mirror and sighs, "I had a feeling he might."
"What can we do though?" I ask.
"There's not much we can do," he tells me dismally, and I can see that he is so frustrated with it, but has given up on fighting it. He's kind of just accepted it.
Surely this can't be legal. I'm pretty sure this is classified as stalking and they can't get away with it. We pull up at a set of traffic lights, and the paparazzo driver pulls up next to us, snapping away. Harry unwinds his window,
"Stop following us please," he asks politely. I don't understand how he can take so much shít from them over the years and still be so calm and rational. My respect levels for this guy are ever increasing, and we continue on driving as the lights change back from red to green.
The driver unsurprisingly continues to follow, and I realise that Harry was right - there isn't much we can do. I direct him to my favourite breakfast restaurant called 'Three Bags Full', and we soon find a park and head inside. Harry grabs my hand and it settles the uneasy feeling in my stomach. I'm thankful for the gesture and feel slightly overwhelmed, as more paparazzi seemed to have found us. It also makes me feel much more comforted by his display of public affection towards me. Obviously I'd rather people weren't taking our photos, but it's what the gesture means that matters most to me.
We walk inside the café and I can tell Harry likes the look of the place. It's fairly eclectic and yet has a warm kind of feel. The tables are communal and I pull up a chair next to an artsy looking woman; while Harry sits opposite, and we take a gander at the refined menu.
I settle on the smashed avocado on toast with Persian feta, and Harry decides on the green eggs and ham with ricotta. I knew he'd choose that. He gets up to the counter to place our order through, and when he returns I feel like we're just a normal pair. No one seems to be giving us a second glance, and it feels wonderful.
"What are you thinking about petal?" He asks, his elbow rested on the table, and propping his chin in his hand. He looks absolutely divine.
"You," I answer honestly. "...And me."
"Do go on," he urges, raising his eyebrows in a contentedly excited manner. "I like this topic."
"Oh you know," I begin. "I like that we can do this. And besides all of that out there, this kind of almost feels like... a real date."
He reaches his hand over, squeezing mine in a reassuring manner.
"That makes me happy to hear. I know some of what comes with me is bad. But you've got to know, I really like this. I feel like you're a really good thing for me Ave."
We don't even notice our food being placed in front of us at first, as we're so enthralled in one another. We joke and laugh, and play, and laugh some more. He plays with my hands absentmindedly as we get to know one another, and those feelings arise in me once more. I've never met anyone who's captured my fascination in this way before. He has this air about him – a confidence within himself that drew me to him. He is who he is, and he doesn't care what people think.
We both leave our plates scraped empty, and can already see people milling outside, taking photos. I breathe in a large breath of air to prepare myself for the scene outside. He places his hand through mine as we exit the restaurant, and he holds me close to his side as we walk through the masses of paparazzi, and back to the car.
"Look, I know this is annoying, but I have to do a quick radio interview. Won't take more than a couple hours. Did you want to come along, and we can do something after?"
"Best I probably get home - Mum hasn't seen me today. Though I'm super annoyed she hasn't left any messages for me. I could have died last night."
"If you stayed with Max," I hear Harry mumble to himself.
I decide to not say anything, and while driving home I notice again that we're being followed. When nearing my street, Harry drives past my house to throw the paps off, but it's no use.
"It's fine Harry, you can just drop me off at home. There's not much we can do about them anymore."
He leans over and kisses me. The kiss is short and fleeting, though he still manages to turn my insides to mush. I exit the car and rush inside the house as I hear the clicking sounds of cameras going off.
Is this my life now?
Question of the chapter: Everything seems to be going quite well for Harry and Ava, but do you think the paparazzi will come in between their relationship if they continue to be so relentless?
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