4th July 2015 (continued)
"Ugh, I have sand in wildly inappropriate places", Gemma grumbles as she makes her way back to the steps from their impromptu beach volleyball court. Anne and Julia laugh from their vantage point up at the edge of the fire pit.
"You do?! At least you bloody won!", Eloise whines, trying to shove a giggling Harry off from on top of her. The epic last match point had gone awry and somehow ended up with them sprawled under the net. And they were supposedly on the same team.
"No one likes a sore loser, Lolly Pop!", Ben gloats as Niall and James barrel past him, shotgunning first dibs on the showers. "H, come on, I'm trying to be cool about all this, but can you at least not molest her in public?", Ben jokes. Sort of.
>
When Harry finally rolls off, jumping to his feet to pull her up, she casts her eyes over him, then down at herself, with a grimace. They're literally covered in sand.
He just chuckles and unties his bandana. Shaking it out, he steps closer to start brushing her down; intently focused on doing a very, very thorough job.
Keeping her eyes on his face, she feels herself turning gooey at his focus; tongue slightly poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration, as gentle hands manoeuvre her this way and that.
She laughs as he makes a play of slut dropping down to his haunches, keeping a hand on the back of her thigh for balance as he runs the bandana up and down her long legs. He looks up at her with a satisfied cheeky grin.
She rolls her eyes, pops a hip and holds out a hand for the bandana he's shaking out. "Go on, then", exasperatedly, eagerly.
Now it's his turn to stare as she moves the cotton over him. Swiping and smoothing.
It's her first time properly seeing all his ink up close, and she's fascinated. She can't help but trail her fingers across the butterfly tattoo once it's revealed to her.
His abs tense at the touch, a gasp leaving his lips. "That'll do". He steps in to her and drops a kiss to her forehead, hushing her protest that she's not finished. "Your brother will castrate me".
He swipes the pad of his thumb over some sand he'd missed at her hairline. Her fingers ghost his before running a hand through her hair to her very messily undone bun. She wails at the feeling of all the sand against her scalp.
>
The pool deck is empty when they make it to the top of the stairs from the beach. A glance upward reveals lights on in all the bedrooms. "Bastards", he huffs under his breath, changing tack to lead her over to the cushioned fire pit.
He sits close and rests one arm behind her back, the other drawing circles on her bent knee. She twists to snuggle into his side and toys with the fingers draped over her shoulder.
"God, I love it here", she says, looking out over the long stretch of beach.
"So beautiful", he says wistfully.
Looking up at his tone to find him already looking down at her, she squirms and buries her head into his chest.
At feeling his lips against the nape of her neck, huffing a soft chuckle before pressing a gentle kiss, she braves a look back up at him. "Today's been wonderful".
"It has", he agrees, "And it's not over yet...".
He lifts his hand from her knee to her jaw, and angles her head to his.
They've snatched the odd kiss here and there today, but this is the first time it feels like they have time. And no audience.
She shifts her hips and pulls him closer, angling his longer torso over hers.
Granting his tongue access, she sighs into the kiss... Perfectly content, and with nowhere else she'd rather be than here in his arms.
>
Minutes later, it's him shifting in his seat. He pulls back and drops his forehead to hers, panting for breath. "We need to cool it", he groans. "I don't think locking you in a bedroom all night will go down well with the others".
With an eye to his tented yellow shorts, she pats his stomach, acquiescing. "I, umm-", she looks away, mumbling shyly, "I was wondering about the sleeping arrangements...?".
"God, Eloise! I would never put any pressure on you", he panics, worrying he must have come on too strong.
She looks back up at him with a roll of her eyes and a knowing smile. "H, of course I know that! And remember I'm the one who tried to proposition you after an innocent yoga class", she blushes.
"It wasn't that innocent, if I recall", he chuckles.
"I just meant there hadn't been any discussion about bedrooms", she clarifies. "Obviously all the Cordens. And your mum and Gem. But that leaves Ben, Niall, and you, and me...".
"You and me?", he grins with a nudge to her shoulder.
"Alright, grammar police! Fine, you and I", she jokes, crystal clear on what he was inferring.
"I didn't want to push my luck by bringing it up", he admits. "With you, or Ben. He's been cool so far, but...", he trails off.
"Don't worry about him," she says trailing a finger on his thigh. "We caught up last night and again earlier. About all this...", she gestures between them, "And he's cool... I mean, do whatever you need to - you know, 'Bro Code' and all that - but don't stress".
"Yeah?", he says, hopefully.
"Yep", she says, popping the 'p'.
"You know, we've not done much of that that...", clarifying at her confused look, "Catching up".
"Well, someone's been too busy! Kissing, and touching and flirting", she says pointedly, playfully.
"Yeah, you've been a nightmare!", he sasses back, laughing at her immediate protest.
>
So they talk.
About the last six months.
About her juggling the toughest final term of university whilst finalising her script and securing representation.
About all the boys and everything that's been happening amidst the pressure of such a huge world tour.
They talk about what's next.
She's giving herself the summer off. Exhausted, but restless and excited.
About how almost all her favourite people are in California right now, and how maybe it's a sign. How she has three months to play it by ear before the US government kick her out on her tourist visa. She needs to be back in London by mid September for the Rugby World Cup, anyway.
Interesting, he can't help but mention. They're touring the US for the next two months. He doesn't ask her to join him outright; it's too soon to pile on that kind of pressure. But he floats the idea; asks her to imagine it.
They admit some secrets.
Turns out she really, really hates sand. So, yes, the volleyball incident was traumatic.
He shares one in return too. A big one. The hiatus. She listens intently, asking him how he's feeling. Awed by his openness and honesty, she feels herself falling that bit more for him.
They reveal the times they'd wanted to get in touch, but held back; to avoid being a bother, or coming on too strong.
He shyly admits he couldn't help but wonder if there had been anyone else since yoga night. She scoffs, as if anyone else stood a chance. Says she wouldn't ask him the same thing. She doesn't have to, he promises.
Inevitably, after that, they kiss again. Sweet and slow, intense and passionate.
>
They're interrupted when Niall calls out to them from the patio door. They're due at Café Habana in thirty minutes.
Shit, they'd lost track of time. Untangling themselves, they jump up to head inside.
Harry definitely didn't get all the sand earlier, she realises, stepping gingerly over the deck to find the nearest shower.
>
Eloise is in an empty bedroom, sitting cross-legged in a towel in front of a full length mirror, humming along to the music filtering up from downstairs.
She has just finished her eyeliner when Harry walks through the door, in just a towel, slung low on his hips. They both stare openly, roving eyes full of admiration and lust.
"A split second earlier and I'd have poked myself in the eye", she quips.
He chuckles, bending down to place a fresh margarita on the ground next to her make-up bag, before dropping a gentle kiss to her bare shoulder.
"Trying to get me pissed, Styles?", she asks, eyebrow raised.
Chuckling guiltily as she runs her fingers through her still damp hair, he takes a seat on the bed behind her, watching on intrigued as she dextrously weaves the front into a plait, before tying the rest up loosely.
She catches his eye in the mirror, "What time are we off?".
"Whenever we're ready, I guess. They're all downstairs". He stands, reluctantly, "I better go and get dressed".
She pouts before tipping the glass up in acknowledgment; his fingers trailing along her bare shoulders as he passes. She takes a sip and smacks her lips as she twists to ogle his retreating back. Shit, that arse, though.
>
Rapping his knuckles on the doorframe this time, Harry finds Eloise standing at the mirror, teasing the strands of her plait, messing it up a bit. She looks effortlessly beautiful, he thinks.
A white silk shirt - just slightly sheer, unbuttoned enough to show a peek of cleavage, and the sleeves rolled up to her elbows - tucked into a pair of paper-bag waisted embellished pewter shorts. Accessorised with diamond studs in her ears, a silver cuff on her wrist, and a delicate silver chain dipping down below her neckline. Topped off with minimal patent black flat strappy sandals and a black slouchy leather clutch bag. Her bright eyes and the pinky red on her lips pop against the acres of tanned golden skin tantalisingly on display.
He walks slowly up behind her and slides a hand either side of her hips. "You look incredible", he says with a squeeze, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
"You too", she says appreciatively of his tight black jeans, red floral Gucci shirt buttoned low, and camel suede boots. Turning in his arms she hooks a finger in the chain around his neck to pull him down close enough to press a kiss up to his lips before nuzzling into his neck, "And you smell delicious".
>
Everyone else is gathered in the entry foyer below, ready to go, so they're met with catcalls and whistles - and Niall's "Finally, I'm starving!" - as they make it down the grand staircase, hand in hand.
"You look lovely, Lolly", Ben leans forward to drop a kiss on her temple as she passes him, following Harry out the door.
>
They spot a few paps as they pull the cars up to the valet station. "Just keep your head down and smile", Harry whispers in Eloise's ear, proceeding to shield his mum, sister and her as they hurry past their flashing lenses.
"James!".
"Harry!".
"Harry, over here!".
"Up here, smile for us, girls".
"Hey, blondie!".
"Harry, who's the blonde?".
The frenzied paps holler over each other amidst all the popping flashes.
It's far from her first experience with them, but Eloise is taken aback at their sudden ferocity. Startled, with a rictus grin plastered on her face, she keeps her head down, following Gemma.
Niall distracts them, sassing back with "My name's Niall actually - his bandmate, you eejits!", so Harry's hand on her lower back ushering her swiftly through the door, goes unnoticed.
James greets the hostess inside the door by name, and they're promptly led through the restaurant to the private terrace out back.
As they file through, Eloise hears Harry, behind her, greet a few familiar famous faces as they pass. This is his world too, she realises.
>
Harry has grown used to having eyes follow him through a room, the centre of attention. Syco and Modest have invested vast amounts of money slapping their faces across every marketable surface - from albums to billboards and lunch boxes to buses - worldwide, for the last few years. In signing that first contract, he'd given them permission; granted ownership of his image. It is a big and abstract concept; one that he is still getting his head around. Expects he will be trying to for some time, actually.
Following Eloise through the restaurant, he sees that she too literally turns peoples' heads - table after table of indiscreet double takes. But the attention she receives isn't engineered or about mere recognition. It's organic; some animalistic attraction, beyond just her looks and physique.
In a room full of beautiful and recognisable faces as the restaurant is - and in a part of the world where pretty people abound - their attention, captivation, of her, is fuelled by something deeper. Something akin to presence, charisma, or, dare he say it, an X Factor; whatever it is that makes her enigmatic, inherently magnetic.
But these strangers can only see what is outward. They don't know her personality, intellect or talents. They have no idea.
He feels proud as punch that she is here, with him; that she feels him worthy of her attention and affection.
But he also realises he is ruined. That he never stood a chance in resisting her. He makes a vow to himself to protect what they have with everything he has, because he knows he would never be lucky enough to stumble across anyone else like her. He cannot mess this up. Needs to add that to the top of his list of things to worry about.
>
At the private terrace, there's already quite the crowd, with people milling about and a group congregating around the large table in the corner. The bar is loaded with shots and drinks, ready to go, and a stage is set up with speakers at the far end. It's already rowdy and fun - if a little claustrophobic.
Eloise clocks Xander chatting to Jason by the bar, but before she has the chance to look around for Rosie, Harry steers her straight over to introduce Jeff and Glenne. More introductions, names and faces and handshakes and hugs.
Niall soon pops up with a massive tray of tequila shots. Her hero.
She's laughing at Gemma's post shot grimace when she feels arms wrap tightly around her from behind. Her assailant staggers a bit and she recognises the giggle. It's Rosie; a tipsy, handsy Rosie.
She's passed another shot and Harry stops them to snap a picture of all the girls, before they cheer noisily and knock them back.
>
Rande and Cindy then head over to greet the boys, who introduce everyone.
"Oh, are you with Harry?", Cindy asks, casting a glance to where he's hovering closely, hand still wrapped around her hip whilst he catches up with Rande.
"Oh! Umm, well-", Eloise splutters, glancing around nervously.
Anne jumps in, patting Cindy on the arm with a smile. "It's all very new", she explains deftly, steering her away and asking after her kids.
Eloise couldn't love her more in that moment.
"You're panicking", Rosie notices, whispering.
"Just a bit overwhelmed, I think", she admits, fanning herself. "Can you show me where the toilets are?".
Gemma and Julia share a look after they leave and head over to the boys.
>
Eloise breathes a sigh of relief as she enters the quiet of the ladies' toilets, whilst Rosie struts in behind her, like the world's most glamorous bodyguard.
Bracing her arms on the sink, Eloise takes a couple of deep breaths and catches the pointedly concerned look in the mirror.
"I'm okay, really. It's just a lot to take in, all of this... Yesterday morning I was at home in London, kicking my heels wondering what new graduates are supposed to do, you know?".
Rosie looks back at her in the mirror, humming in response whilst reapplying lipstick to her famous pout.
"And tonight, I'm here! With all these people. And him. And I think he wants me to go on tour with him?! It's all just... A lot. In a good way, a great way! But, eek".
"You done?", Rosie asks, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Don't fret about everything being perfect. Just go with the flow. Enjoy it. You deserve it". Queen of the no-nonsense pep talk, that one.
Eloise yelps as she slaps her bum on the way out, "Ro!".
>
Following her, Eloise grins when she sees Harry and Ben loitering with intent down the hallway. Zero chill, those two.
As Rosie skips to Ben's arms in greeting, he looks over her shoulder to her and mouths, "You good?". At her nod and smile, he steers Rosie smoothly away, distracting her with eager chatter.
Harry pulls her to him with his hand on her hip, rubbing soothing circles. "Everything okay?", he checks.
"Perfect", she says, running her hands up his arms to wrap behind his neck.
"It'll start thinning out once they close the restaurant for the private party... But we can go somewhere else if you want?".
"H, I'm good. It's fun! I'm looking forward to it", she promises, reaching up for a kiss. Then another.
"Just let me know if you change your mind, okay?". He grips her hand in his and leads them back over to everyone. He doesn't let go.
>
Soon enough, the sun starts setting and the pretty festoon lights hanging from the pergolas come on.
The Cordens, with sleepy little ones in tow, leave too as the wider restaurant starts emptying out and the music is cranked up.
There's a steady stream of margaritas and tequilas from the bar, with a generous spread of tacos, salads and sides on the long table.
Eloise is still conscious of eyes on her and Harry, but she pushes it to the back of her mind and instead focuses on, well, him; and desperately trying to keep track of all these new names and faces.
>
Eloise is waiting for a couple of waters at the bar when she hears her name mentioned. She turns around and tunes into the conversation next to the nearby stage; Gemma, Anne, Rosie and Glenne chat, with Harry, Ben, Jason and Jeff just behind them.
"Oh, we know all about Eloise's party trick!" Gemma laughs, "I've never seen anything like it!".
"She showed you?!" Rosie screeches in disbelief.
"Oh, yes! It was quite the performance, even in the car", Anne gushes. "You should have seen Harry's face!"
"What? How? I cannot believe she would-?", Rosie stutters in shock.
In a moment of horror, it dawns on Eloise. They're talking at cross purposes. With a feeling of dread, she figures she has about four seconds to intervene before this all goes horribly, irrevocably wrong.
"How much did she show you?! And where did she get the banana?!", Rosie questions in disbelief.
"Wait, what?", Gemma laughs, confused.
Eloise pushes off the bar and launches herself straight at Rosie, cannoning them backwards on to the lounge seat by the stage.
Her quick movement captures everyone's attention, so by the time she rights herself, straddling Rosie's lap with a hand clamped firmly over her mouth, there are at least ten pairs of eyes locked on them, equal parts confused and amused.
"Don't you dare say another word!", she hisses at Rosie, feeling her cheeks flood with colour.
The immediate barrage of questions is interrupted by Jason's booming laugh, head thrown back. It sets Rosie and Eloise off, the latter collapsing weakly in a fit of horrified giggles against her still confused friend.
"The only thing that makes that...", he gestures to the leggy beauty sitting astride his supermodel girlfriend, "Even better, is knowing what her other party trick is!", he cries with laugher.
"She told you?!", Eloise whirls around in disbelief, facing Jason and the boys whilst pretending to throttle Rosie.
"Told him what, exactly?", Ben asks pointedly, arms crossed over his chest. Protective big brother mode: activated.
Gaze snapping from Ben, to Anne, to Harry, and back, she swallows thickly.
The first to join the dots - he thinks, hopes - Harry steps in to intervene whilst Eloise's almost hysterical tailspin is still on the right side of funny. Stepping up to the lounger, he wraps an arm around her waist to lift her back up on to her feet, chuckling lowly as he turns her in his arms.
She knows he knows. Well, shit.
Meeting his intense gaze she whispers lowly, "Play your cards right and I'll bloody show you later, alright? But only if you please just change the damn subject!".
He barks a laugh, then places a hand on either side of her warm cheeks and kisses her deeply.
He pulls back, shouting over the cheering, "Hey, Rande! What were you saying about karaoke?".
Eloise sags with relief. All the more so when Jason sidles up to announce their car back to Beverly Hills has arrived. "Secret's safe!", he teases.
>
Feeling warm after more shots and another rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody - alongside Harry, Niall, Ben and Glenne this time - Eloise is back at the bar. Another attempt for some water.
She leans back from the bartender and jumps as Xander, elbow on the bar, sidles up close to her. With an intent look in his eyes that she can't quite place, he slurs lowly, "You know, H isn't usually one to wait around for someone...".
Looking at him with a questioning gaze, not quite sure what he means or how to take it, she eyeballs him and simply replies "Neither am I", before walking away.
What was that? Did he mean Harry shouldn't have waited for her? Didn't wait? Doesn't think she's good enough for him? 'Ugh, enough!', she chastises herself. Harry has done nothing to suggest he doesn't deserve total trust from her. She silences her inner critic and looks around for the man himself.
But she's intercepted by Niall as she crosses the dance floor, "El, I need professional help!".
"That you definitely do!", she snorts. Eyeing his flailing, she couldn't possibly turn him down. For a musician, he's displaying a woeful lack of rhythm.
>
Jeff and Glenne have joined their silly impromptu dance-off by the time Harry appears, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist. "Now, why do three of my best mates get to dance with you before I get the chance?", he asks in mock outrage.
"I'm not sure that...", she gestures to Niall, "Can be called dancing!", wrapping an arm around his neck, laughing off Niall's offended protest.
She steps closer to Harry, positioning a leg either side of his strong thigh, and starts moving her hips to the beat. "Careful what you wish for, Styles".
She rises on to her tip toes to whisper in his ear, "And don't tell me you can't remember New Year's Eve?", she tuts. "That was hot", she bites the shell of his ear before dropping back down and looking up at his intense hooded gaze.
>
They're interrupted - from their dancing, touching, grinding, kissing, laughing - when the music abruptly changes mid-song and the festoon lights above them switch off, plunging the terrace into almost darkness. He tightens his hold on her as they look around. Then there's a collective gasp and cheer as the sky above them lights up in a shower of red, white and blue.
Flinching at the fireworks, Harry keeps his eyes on hers, seeing more than enough reflected in her dancing dark blue eyes.
>
Soon enough, they're heading to the main door to find their waiting drivers. They're all drunk, but the best giggly, silly, rowdy, fun kind, so the few paps out front get some innocuous candid group shots, but nothing incriminating.
>
Back at the house, Harry battles to close the gate with Eloise's help, whilst Ben ushers the rest through the door, making the most noise himself as he chases after hurricane Niall.
Everyone peels off, so by the time Eloise and Harry make it to the kitchen, they're surprised to find themselves alone. Neither are ready for this night, this day, to end.
There's a flash of light and her gaze snaps through the wall of glass to another wave of fireworks lighting up the sky. She looks invitingly over her shoulder at him as she unlocks the patio door and slips outside.
He makes a beeline for the fridge before slipping out after her. Finding her at the fire pit again, looking over towards the fireworks coming off the pier further up the beach, he makes her jump when he pops the champagne cork behind her.
Leaping clear over the back of the seat, he pulls her on to his lap, tucking his chin over her shoulder and raking a hand up and down her bare legs. They both simultaneously watch the fireworks, and each other, with rapt attention; passing the bottle back and forth, trading sips.
>
When the last of the booming fireworks fades away, Eloise turns to straddle Harry's lap and lets out a contented sigh when he pulls her even closer.
The soft lighting on the deck picks up his features. Tousled hair falling around his shoulders, sculpted jaw, cutting cheekbones, smiling lips, piercing eyes. "Coke bottle green", she whispers decisively.
"Huh?", his brow wrinkles in confusion, brushing some escaped tendrils of hair back over her shoulder.
"Your eyes. In this light, right now, they're Coke bottle green, like crystals", she coos with a nod, satisfied with her drunken self. It's hard to define their shifting shade, but right now, that's exactly what they are.
"Well, yours are easy. Oceans, always; deep, but swirling, depending how the light hits".
"You saying I'm easy?!", she sasses, then looks down at their position and laughs gleefully before putting her lips suggestively to the champagne bottle for a final swig. Call it Dutch Courage.
>
She pushes him flat and meets his lips in a fierce kiss. Tasting the bubbles, he feels lightheaded.
Unbuttoning his shirt, she rakes her hands over his chest, tracing his tattoos.
It gets more heated when he rolls them over, crowding her with his weight, pressing hips and wandering hands.
He undoes enough of her buttons to expose the cups of her pale pink mesh bra, before pulling the shirt off one shoulder. He lays kisses there, along her collarbone, up her neck, back to her lips.
Hands explore, fingers dip and linger, hips roll.
>
They break apart only at hearing a cheer from a few houses down. Gasping for breath, "We shouldn't be doing this out here", he reasons.
She whines in response, momentarily wrapping her legs tighter around his hips.
Moaning at the heat and the pressure, he braces his hands and jumps up, hauling her with him.
Still stealing kisses, they stumble across the patio, back to the house.
Once inside, he presses her up against the glass door with rutting hips as he fumbles with the lock.
"Result...!", she nods over his shoulder with a grin. Niall sprawled on the sofa means there will be a bedroom free for them upstairs.
Craning his neck around to look, he whispers "Yes, Nialler!", before eagerly pulling her to the stairs.
💫 Please kindly vote and comment - any feedback and encouragement always appreciated!