"Olivia..." Eleanor chimes, looking haphazardly everywhere on the small cart that was carrying their bags. "Do you see my small bag? I don't see it anywhere..."
I opened my mouth to speak, but she just kept talking on the phone, disregarding me completely. "No, we will be gone for a week and a half -- how hard is it for you to find a stupid file? I know you're new, but it's not rocket science," she sighed. "Look under V -- for Vogue," she rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder condescendingly at me as I struggled with my bag plus two of hers.
"Here, let me help you..." Harry interjected, grabbing the two bags of Eleanor's from my hands. He stepped back after launching them over his shoulders and stood next to me, both of us just staring at his fiancé like puppy dogs awaiting their next treat.
He lowered his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Olivia -- I really tried to..."
I interrupted him. "It's fine, Harry."
It's true. He really had tried, which was somewhat of a shock to me. He offered to bring Hannah in my place, sent her an elaborate bouquet of flowers, and had even asked both of their moms to plea to her weaknesses. And if that weren't enough, in a harrowing last ditch bout of total masculinity, he had thrown a tantrum of epic proportions, worse than any tantrum from any man I had ever seen, one that even rivaled Eleanor; but then again, he did learn from the best.
The effort was so endearing that I couldn't even really be mad at him anymore. All I could do was accept that there was not a single ounce of this man that was capable of convincing Eleanor to do anything. Perhaps that was the most tragic.
Feeling tired, I switched my own tote bag to my now free shoulder while we waited, listening to Eleanor whine on the phone in the background.
"Will you two hurry up? We're going to be late!" she squeals, hanging up her phone and sliding it into her purse.
Harry rolled his eyes at me. "Honey, it's a private flight. It's not like they're going to leave without us..."
Eleanor just glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest in a menacing way.
Even watching the two of them, I can't help but marvel at just how beautiful they both were. Her rosy cheeks matched her designer peach sweater, which was contrasted by her dark grey pencil skirt and her pink five inch heels. She would never stop looking like a model, no matter how bad her personality was. And Harry, he looked like he fit right next to her in his sweater and tight black pants. It just made me feel completely underdressed in my hoodie and sweats, which I thought everyone wore to the airport, especially for a flight over ten hours.
"We have a scheduled flight time, Harold..." she scolded, all of us moving further towards the pickup area at the hangar.
"The guy isn't even here yet," he mumbles, stopping at where we were apparently supposed to be. He yawned tiredly before discreetly adjusting himself in his tight pants. I couldn't help but stare a little at his bulge, the exhaustion weakening my common sense.
"Quit that," she hisses, slapping his hand away. "I swear, sometimes you're like a twelve year old who can't stop touching himself."
"If you'd do it more often, I wouldn't have to," he grumbled.
"Maybe if you acted like an adult more than half the time, I would want to..."
Wow, that was low, even for Eleanor. Wasn't this supposed to be Christmas vacation? Before their wedding? They haven't even had a honeymoon phase, have they? So much for wedded bliss.
Harry just scoffed. "Why are we leaving this early again?" He yawned again, letting the bags drop to the floor while we waited, rolling his neck around to relieve some pressure.
"What...!" Eleanor hissed, ignoring his question. We both looked around confused before she narrowed her eyes at me. "What on earth is that?"
I saw her point to my bag hanging off my shoulder, and I looked down. A blush crept over my features as I stuttered a bit.
"Is this your purse?" she asked, closing the distance between us before slowly running her hand over the embroidered name that was situated between the handles. As soon as she touched it, she pulled her hand away as if it had sullied her perfect skin.
Harry piped up. "That's cute...does it say 'Al' on the other side?" he smirked.
Embarrassment started to slide like heat all over my body.
"Oh, m-my mom, she sent my p-present early so I would have something to pack stuff in for my trip home. She hand embroidered m-my name..." I uttered, running my finger over the stitching. "My C-Christmas present."
"Oh...that's nice," Eleanor feigns support. I wish the Earth would swallow me up now and put me out of my misery.
"Yeah, cool!" Harry offers, smiling as he runs his fingers over it, and somehow I know he's being genuine. "Does she do golf bags? Maybe she can sew my name on mine..." he trails, but looks up at me with a mischievous smile. "Or maybe 'Golf God'...." he giggled playfully, fanning his hand out in the air as if he was revealing the most ingenious thing ever.
I couldn't help but laugh while Eleanor scoffed at him, but he didn't care. He wrapped his arms around both of our necks, pulling us both close in a hug. He leaned in to kiss Eleanor's forehead, but she wasn't having it, effortlessly wriggling away from him as a young harassed-looking man approached us.
"Look, our escort!" he called, pulling away from both of us. "How ya doing, Tommy!?" he smirks, shaking the man's hand once he got to them.
"Sorry for the wait," he glances at Eleanor. "Right this way, if you'll follow me..."
We follow him down a hallway and onto the tarmac, the blistering ocean breeze cutting through my sweatshirt like a knife. We cut quickly over to the small plane, which only got louder the closer we approached. Once in board, I was blown away by how beautiful and large it felt on the inside -- a mix of a board room and a living room with couches and big screen TVs behind that, and a lounge with facing recliners splayed out elegantly beyond that. I had never been on a private jet before, but I saw the appeal now.
Harry plopped his carry on bag into one of the chairs at the table while Eleanor sat down and pulled out her laptop.
"You're gonna do work?" he asked, incredulously.
"Yes, Harold. I have a lot of work to do, and as you know, we are short-staffed."
I shuffle past them as Harry calls out to me. "Livvy-- flick on the TV for me, will ya? See if there's a game on."
I nod, slowly looking for the remote so I could get it on for him. "What kind of game?"
He smirks and shrugs. "Any kind of sport, I don't care..."
I nod, dropping my bag in my seat with a thud before finding Sports Center. "This ok?"
"Perfect," he nods. I flop into my chair and comfortably sink in as Harry plops down on one of the chairs at the table with Eleanor.
The silence wraps around us as the plane starts moving, and my jaw clenches as we take off. I hated flying, and it was even more nerve wracking in a private plane, since it was smaller and more turbulent.
As soon as we were up in the air, Harry reaches into his bag that was next to him, pulling out the flower magazine I had delivered earlier this week.
"I looked at the magazine with the flowers," he started nonchalantly. "I really, really liked the ones on page 24." He opened up the page and showed her the spread with the yellow sticky note.
"Uh...Harry?" I try to interrupt, remembering what I had told him out of spite at his office the day I delivered it. It was too late, though, as she was already looking.
Eleanor wrinkled her nose. "You like those?"
"Yeah," he beamed. You could tell he felt proud that he actually agreed with something she liked for once.
"I don't know," she sighs, flipping through to another page. "You don't like this one?"
He looked down at the post it note, noticing the color. "You don't like that one." She just eyed him, confused. "It has a green post it..."
Eleanor rolled her eyes. "The green post its are the ones I liked. The yellow ones are the ones I don't. The blue ones are the maybes. God, didn't Olivia tell you? Honestly, Harold -- how hard is it to remember something so simple?" she scoffs.
Harry glances over at me and catches my eyes. I want to look away in embarrassing defeat or somehow fix this situation, but I can't. He just nods after a long pause before looking away. His emotion stays the same, not giving anything away.
"Sorry, I must have gotten them mixed up," he mutters.
Eleanor rolls her eyes and scoffs again, but doesn't light into him like I expected her to. If she had berated him, I would have confessed for sure.
"I'm glad we're doing this," Harry mentions, diverting attention to something new. "I haven't been home in so long..."
Eleanor hums a response, not even listening to him.
"You know, I haven't even seen Lauren's baby yet! And Nick says he's got some sketches for the spring clothing line ready," he finished, referencing his cousin and his best friend.
"That's nice dear," Eleanor mutters while looking through her bag.
"And I can't wait to see my Granny! And have her epic blueberry pie! And her cobbler..."
Eleanor snorts as she sits up again. "-- and a heart attack, apparently."
Harry grins gleefully. "It's gonna be great."
"Yes, great.." she echoes with no emotion whatsoever.
"Hey! We should stop at the bakery on the way in and say hi to the..."
"Harry! I'm trying to work! Could you stop?" she snaps out of frustration.
"Sorry," he groaned, huffing before getting up and heading to the couch that was across from me. He splayed out languidly after kicking his shoes off, resting an arm behind his head as he sighed. He peered over he edge of the couch to make sure Eleanor couldn't see him before untucking his shirt and getting comfortable.
"Harry," I interrupt, my voice barely above a whisper to make sure his fiancé can't hear us. "I'm...I'm so sor..."
He held his hand up to me and shook his head. "It's okay, everyone makes mistakes."
His nonchalance only made me feel worse about what I had done.
"No, I -- really," I offered, trying to find the words.
"Hey," he whispers, his jade green eyes catching mine intensely. As much as I want to look away, I physically can't. The pull between us is just that magnetic. "I'm not her. I'm not mad."
He smiled at me before nodding. As I look at his features, I can tell he doesn't think I did it on purpose, that it was just a simple mistake by an overworked assistant. Honestly, it made me want to be sick. How could I do that to him?
"It won't happen again," I offer. I mean it. Even if he doesn't understand the gravity of what I'm actually saying, I had to say it.
He smiled, scratching his abs, his shirt lifting up a bit as he did so, showing off the ivy tattoos that rested above his hip bones. I couldn't help but lick my lips.
"You ever been to England, Livvy?" he asked.
"Nope," I smile. "First time..."
He smiled lazily, looking like an exhausted toddler trying to fight sleep as much as possible. His eyelids began drooping and he was losing consciousness.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he mumbles.
Get your head out of the gutter, Olivia.
--
Author's Note:
Almost 1k reads and almost 3k reads for my smutty one shot series (The Dirty Series). You guys are the best! Thanks for supporting me!
As always, please feel free to comment and favorite. Would love your feedback.
Get ready for some juicy stuff in the next few chapters, which I've pre-written. I'll make a ton of updates for you this weekend to make up for my lack of updates this week.
Special shout out to a few of my favorite authors: shyla_stories bunniesinablanket jkharrystyles. I've read every book for each of them, and I'm addicted to their words. If you haven't, you should check them out.
Have a wonderful weekend, people!!
Xo,
NB