A/N: OMG - forgive my horrible edit...
I went a little further out this time, exploring almost every inch of the enormous vessel. And even though there are a few good pictures I took among the ship, I'm undeniably unsatisfied with it. I feel so confined and immobile in this space. There's only so many pictures I can take of the ocean til I get bored. It all looks the same from no matter which angle I take it.
The room is quiet when I return hours later. Harry Styles is nowhere in sight as my eyes roam the room. The food cart is missing, the bed is made, and the foods on the floor have all been cleaned up.
I hope he didn't clean it up all by himself. I'm sure that our steward came to service it.
I walk to the window, but something on the couch catches my eye, making me stop two steps in. It's a brown journal, a pen sticking out from the end. It's definitely not mine. I've never even owned a journal.
It must be Harry Styles'. He doesn't seem like the type though.
The temptation of opening it and reading a page is hard to swallow. I know I shouldn't, but I feel myself being allured to the private book of Harry Styles' private thoughts, forbidden pages only restricted for his eyes.
"You're back," a voice calls from ahead me, startling me in the process. My eyes dart to my cabin mate who is walking towards me from the bathroom. His hair is wet, some strands of his hair glued to the side of his face before he runs his fingers through it. He must've just finished showering.
"Yeah," I reply. "I should probably do that as well."
"What?" He questions as I head to my suitcase on the floor by the window. As I drag it along with me towards the bathroom, I don't give a glance towards him before I turn to close the door.
"Shower," I answer before closing it but not before I catch a smirk on his lips.
...
"I'm bored," Harry repeats for the fifth time.
After my shower, I do nothing but lay in bed and diddle on my phone, sending Marco random emojis, checking up on current events, playing some very exciting word games that Marco recommended I download.
"Aren't you bored?" He asks, and I shake my head, keeping my eyes on the screen of my phone. I've been doing so well at avoiding him, I shouldn't give in so easily. "Can I have your opinion on something?"
Putting my phone down in my lap, my eyes find his across the room. He's standing over by the wall where his belongings are.
"Sure." I had to give in. I would come off extremely rude if I didn't.
He bends down, disappearing for a moment. I hear the unbuckling of a case before I see him again with a guitar in his hand.
"You're going to play me a song?" I ask, sounding more excited than I wanted to.
He nods with a smile as he sits down on the sofa. Now that he has captured my undivided attention, I sit up on the bed, facing him. In a pretzel legged position, I wait for him to play as he strums the guitar a few times, making sure that they are in tune.
"I want you to be honest. I'm not really sure if I like the melody."
I nod enthusiastically.
"You ready?" He asks, and I nod again. "Okay," he mutters encouragingly, quietly to himself.
With a deep breath, he carefully sets his long fingers in position before glancing up at me again, his eyes wavering once he meets my gaze.
Is he nervous playing for me? Why would he be nervous?
It's not as though I'm some tough producer or something.
As soon as he starts moving his fingers, it's like magic. I know it sounds crazy, but that's what it literally sounds like. His movements are effortless as he plays, each strum of the chords beautifully rings in the air sending a wave of different emotions over my skin.
"What do you think?" He asks after he finishes. I don't answer, still amazed by how talented he is. He came up with that? Is that even humanly capable? "I know it's only a minute long but just imagine it on repeat and more crescendo towards the end."
Half of his explanation goes over my head as I'm not listening to most of the things he's saying.
"It's like magic," I say, assuring him an honest smile. My compliment seems to ease him, his shoulders slumping with relief as he breathes out a grin of satisfaction.
"Magic?"
"Yeah, it's .. Really beautiful."
"Beautiful?"
My lack of vocabulary doesn't seem to stifle him. Instead, amuses him.
"Did you want to grab a drink?" His question confuses me for a second. Was he asking me out?
"You can't go out," I remind him.
"I can, technically."
"Are you asking me out?"
"We'll just grab a drink quick then come back," he replies, avoiding my question. "We won't be ten minutes."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Elaine, please. I need inspiration to finish this song."
Although it's against my better judgment to go out on a closed space with Harry Styles, he's a very convincing person, just like me. But we've run into each other so many times before and never got caught by the cameras, who's to say we can't do it again. Besides, there's probably no crazy celebrity chasers here.
"Okay," I say. "But only ten minutes."
"Okay! I'll go to the bathroom and let you change," he gets up from the couch while I look down at what I'm wearing.
"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" I ask, slightly offended.
"It's fancy night tonight. People will definitely be staring if you're in sweats." He puts back his guitar and stalks off into the bathroom, leaving me in a mix of emotions - confusion and a little bit of anxiety.
I hated wearing fancy clothes.
...
Upon entering the bar, my anxiety levels of being found out with Harry Styles rises to unmeasurable levels. I almost want to run out before we even take a step inside.
There's so many other people around - dressed pretty formally too. I forgot that some days had themes. And for the first time in a long time, I'm thankful that my mother convinced me to bring the only dress I own. A no-sleeve, black piece maxi dress that hits right at my ankles. It's flowy and comfortable and doesn't accentuate any of the curves I have, which I like. And the most formal pair of shoes I brought was a pair of plain, black flats. Harry Styles, however, looks somehow ravishing with his half buttoned black (very see through, might I add) and his tight black jeans.
"We'll be seen," I whisper to Harry who is calmly observing the crowd. "Let's just go back."
I turn around to head back but a warm hand wrapping around my wrist restrains me from taking another step.
"We already came out. Besides it's dark and no one will even notice," he mutters assuringly back. Looking from the crowd to his eyes, my breath almost stops. I've never felt so much emotions all at the same time. I'm suddenly nervous that someone might see us yet I'm strangely invulnerable in his presence. I'm reluctant to leave yet reluctant to stay.
He looks away from me, his undaunting eyes scanning the room again. The warmth of his hand falls a few inches down from my wrist to my hand. Beyond my control, the feeling in my chest yet again swells into my throat as he leads me to the back of the room, his fingers loosely fitted around mine.
The music starts to play loudly as we sit at an empty table at the corner of the room. Harry Styles gets up slowly, and rests a hand on my shoulder as he says, "Wait here."
With a nod, he leaves.
A few people exchange odd looks as they pass me, mostly concerning old ladies who probably assume I have issues because I came here alone.
I cross my arms to ignore them and keep my eyes outside, admiring the moon. It is unusually bright tonight. Not one cloud is in the sky.
"Elaine!" A voice calls my name, a voice that definitely does not belong to Harry Styles. My head slowly motions around, and as I had feared, my mother is seating herself on the chair next to me. "You came out!" She gleams. "And you're wearing the dress! See. Aren't you glad I made you pack it?
"Yeah," I say. Just my luck to have my mother and her husband to make an appearance the night Harry Styles wants to get out. I knew we should have just left when we had the chance.
"Why are you sitting back here all by yourself?" My mother questions worryingly.
"Well, I'm --" I stop myself short. I probably shouldn't tell her that I'm here with one of the biggest pop stars of my time. It'll be too much to explain. And knowing my mother, the whole town would never hear the end of this. "I'm not feeling that well so I'm going to go back to my room."
I rise from my chair but stop in the process when I see him in view.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" Harry Styles enters the scenario with a bottle of wine and two glasses in hand.
A/n: remember to vote and comment, my loves! Finals are approaching yet I still find time to update. I can't keep away! Lol. <333