April - May 2016
Once she returned to London, they only had a few weeks together before they were due to be separated again. His imminent departure for France to start prepping for Dunkirk loomed large.
Things were just getting back to normal between them, settled into a daily routine largely revolving around his time writing in the studio and his heavy training schedule. She'd been busy too, with her script; absolutely loving writing with Phoebe, who she'd partnered up with after meeting at a Netflix event.
With the uneasiness of her time in Atlanta still fresh, the impending pressure of long distance weighed heavy on their minds. It wasn't helped when she had to fly suddenly to New York after securing a lucrative Tom Ford fragrance campaign, missing his precious last couple of days.
Busy on her shoot day, she missed his Instagram post, so almost had a fit when he sent her a selfie with that terrible shaggy chopped hair during the Another Man photoshoot.
He laughed with glee when she jokingly told him he's lucky she always had a bit of a weird crush on Jim Carrey in Dumb and Dumber. But he'd been a tease and refused to send her a proper picture of the final cut.
Later that month, the distance only increased when she'd packed up and moved into his LA house, ready to start prepping and rehearsing for Daisy Jones & The Six.
>
Their first proper taste of long distance over an extended period of time was proving even harder than they imagined.
With intense and conflicting schedules, plus the added headache of the time difference, they've had to make a real effort to snatch what precious little time they can have with each other, regardless of how busy, tired or not in the mood they might be. But relationships take work, even adoring and fiercely passionate ones.
The proof was in their astronomical phone bills. And they both racked up some air miles too, making the most of rare syncing of their schedules to snatch a couple of fleeting visits.
But hanging out with each other's friends and family helped when their schedules felt impossible and kept them apart. As did the running countdown of when they'd see each other next.
They'd made it a game to sneak that day's number into one of their daily calls or texts; but sometimes they had different numbers in mind.
>
>
18th June 2016
Eloise jolts awake with a start in his massive bed.
Hearing a noise downstairs she stills; holding her breath, heart pounding.
Again. Like a scrape of something heavy. Shit.
She leaps out of bed, tugs down his oversized t-shirt, grabs her phone and tip toes towards the stairs.
Stilling at the top, she listens carefully, holding her breath.
"Would you two keep it down?", he hisses.
"You asked me to find a knife. I'm trying!", she sasses back, before getting shushed again.
Eloise slinks down the stairs and peers around the doorway into the kitchen. Barking a laugh she jumps out, "You four would make the worst burglars!".
They spin around in surprise before breaking into laughter. Shouting "Happy Birthday", they pull her into hugs and smother her with kisses.
"What are you doing here? I thought I was seeing you all later?".
>
By the time she'd managed to kick Ben, Mer, Rosie and Adele out after breakfast to jump in the shower, she's running late.
Wincing as she eyes the clock on the dashboard of Harry's Range Rover, she sends a prayer to the birthday gods to cut her some slack with the traffic.
>
They obviously weren't listening.
Stuck in traffic, on her way to work, on a Saturday, on her birthday? Meh.
Working on a Saturday, on her birthday, because Reese Witherspoon asked them to showcase the songs they've been rehearsing to Stevie fucking Nicks?
Well, happy birthday to me, she grins. Fairly sick with nerves, but brimming with excitement.
She has her head down, rummaging in her bag as she bustles through the studio door, begging apologies.
Finally digging her phone out - it had been ringing and pinging the whole drive over - she stops scrolling through the reams of notifications when she notices the quiet.
Looking up, she bursts out laughing. The assembled producers, techs and her cast mates are all wearing long red Daisy wigs and party hats.
After a flurry of hugs, she quickly finishes scrolling through her notifications. She smiles at a few, but can't help but feel disappointed to have still not heard from Harry. She figures he must be back shooting in the water all day; poor baby.
The irony isn't lost on her that she's in a recording studio whilst he's on a movie set. Talk about a role reversal.
Silencing her phone, she tosses her bag down, dropping on to the squishy sofa between Sam, playing Billy, and Suki, playing Karen.
It's probably no coincidence that she gravitates to the only other two Brits in the room, feeling a little homesick on her birthday.
>
Half of the beauty of the book is the evocative clues to let the reader create the band's sound in their own mind.
That they now have the opportunity to define and create that sound is hugely exciting; but with the music so integral to the story, the film and its appeal, it also feels like a huge responsibility.
Reese had assembled a strong cast - some established, some more up-and-coming. All talented actors, for sure, but equally proficient singers, musicians and, most importantly, music lovers.
The seven of them have spent much of their last six weeks of rehearsals indulging in sharing vintage references and samples. Harry's eclectic collection had been a veritable treasure trove for Eloise.
They're all very much aware that the integrity of the music is Stevie's top priority, so are apprehensive to share what they have so far with her today.
Trying to capture that sun-drenched vibe of the seventies Californian scene, they're working hard to keep the sound fresh and a little rough around the edges.
For Eloise, half the challenge is in letting loose enough. But it's a weighty enough task as it is.
Her first leading role. A character wildly different from herself, with an accent nothing like her own. Finding an iconic rock singing voice, then varying it to reflect the different influences of drink and drugs. Layer on to that supporting her breath, controlling her technique, harmonising with the band, performing and acting whilst singing. Worriedly, she's starting to realise that this time rehearsing in the studio is actually the easy bit.
She's approaching it like she would choreography. Rehearsing the steps obsessively until the muscle memory is there, then relaxing a little to shake things up and have a little fun, freestyling.
Having spent the majority of her waking hours honing Daisy's voice, she's definitely done her homework.
Now is the time to start having some fun.
>
Early afternoon, when most of the others are out grabbing a late lunch, Eloise is alone in the booth.
Stevie and Reese sit alongside the producer at the soundboard, imploring her to let rip and trash her voice.
Regret Me is the rockiest of their rock songs. It's the emotional crux of the film, after things reach a boiling point between Daisy and Billy. It's her pouring her broken heart out to him. Heartbreak; but the livid, fuming, raging kind.
And it's pretty much Eloise's song to carry. No pressure.
"Forget all that pretty training for a bit. Make it raw and ugly. Remember what I said about the uppers and downers and how strung out she'd be? Lose control and let it all out. We won't record it, don't worry, this is just to get a feel for it", Stevie coaches.
'Easy for her to say', Eloise can't help but think, with that natural gravel to her voice and all that innate talent.
She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
>
As the track progresses, they get increasingly animated, jumping up from their seats and winding Eloise into a frenzy, calling through the headphones for more. Wilder, louder, looser.
By the end of the song, she bends over to catch her breath, totally spent.
Of course they did record it, and Eloise is stunned at the playback, expecting she'd be like a wailing banshee and completely embarrass herself in front of Stevie. But it sounds like it's dripping with emotion and hurt and disappointment.
"Try it again. Start it off like you just ended that, and see how much bigger you can take it", Stevie urges.
Eloise asks them to crank up her headphones. She kicks off her shoes and starts prowling around the booth like a caged tiger, eyes shut, frown marring her face.
>
At Reese's hurried nod through the window in the door, he slips quietly into the room.
Muttering hushed hellos to her and Stevie and hurried introductions to the few of Eloise's cast mates watching on, he takes a seat on the sofa, unable to pull his eyes from the window into the booth. He bursts with pride just looking at his gorgeous girl.
He's immediately taken with the licks and surging beat of the instrumental, but he's not nearly prepared for her opening verse.
Spiky, scratchy, angry. "When you look in the mirror / Take stock of your soul / And when you hear my voice, remember / You ruined me whole".
If he closes his eyes, he'd never know it's Eloise. She sounds nothing like herself, but entirely believable as a preternaturally gifted rock singer.
He tries to picture her with Daisy's long red hair and wonders if he'd even recognise her.
It's disconcerting, having Stevie in the room - it feels like he's listening to her, forty years ago.
He simply cannot reconcile what he's hearing and seeing with his calm, sweet and funny girlfriend. He knew she was talented, but this is something else.
By the final refrain, he's standing up, slack jawed. She's growling, guttural, broken. "One day, you'll regret it / I'll make sure of it before I go".
It's heartbreaking.
>
With her chest heaving and tears leaking, Eloise is left reeling when the music fades out. What the fuck was that?
She opens her eyes and breaks into hoarse laughter, seeing Reese and Stevie jumping up and down cheering at the mixing desk.
When she finally spots him behind them, grinning like a fool, the shock renders her stock still and speechless for a beat.
Her face breaks into a grin and she shouts a husky and ragged "No way!", before almost tripping over the mic wire in her haste to get out of the booth.
In her tangle, he heads for the booth door. Winking at Stevie. he leans over her to press a button on the mixing desk to cut the feed from the booth.
He pulls open the door and crowds the doorframe. They still for a stunned second, eyes roving before locking. Beaming green and watery pools of blue.
Then she leaps into his arms. As she takes in the scent of him and the feel of his strong frame, he steps forward to let the door shut behind him, cocooning them in the soundproofed room.
"What are you doing here?", she rasps, leaning back, one hand cupping his jaw, the other raking over the short hairs at the nape of his neck.
"Happy birthday, my love". He kisses her soundly, twirling her around in his arms.
"That was phenomenal, baby. You absolutely blew me away", he squeezes her tighter.
>
Reese dismisses her for the rest of the afternoon to spend time with him. Her voice isn't up to much more anyway.
On their way out, she introduces him to the rest of her cast mates. He knows Suki from London, but is cryptic when she asks if they have plans for tonight.
Almost out the door, a dramatic sobbing from the studio reception desk startles Harry. Eloise, tucked under his arm, chuckles good naturedly and steers them around with a broad grin on her face.
The affable blonde surfer dude manning the desk looks between the two of them, distraught. "So you weren't lying about the boyfriend, huh?".
She shakes her head with a faux grimace and pats Harry's stomach affectionally.
He's confused. But looking between them both, he clocks her smile and their easy rapport, and relaxes.
"This bombshell has turned down my hand in marriage every day for six weeks. She's killing me", the receptionist clues Harry in.
"That, I can sympathise with", Harry chuckles, looking fondly down at her.
"If you'd told me how steep the competition was I'd have backed off. Wow, you two make a smoking hot couple. Nice one man", he nods at him.
"See you Monday, Coop", she laughs with a fond roll of her eyes.
"Only if I survive the heartache", he says dramatically, staring moonily, hand clutched to his heart. Christ, everyone really is an actor in LA.
"Still a 'no' then?", he calls behind them.
"Still a 'no'!", she laughs exasperatedly over her shoulder.
>
Alone at last, he presses her against the passenger door of his Range Rover, distracting her with open-mouthed kisses to her neck as she digs blindly in her bag for the keys.
Finally dropping them into the back pocket of his jeans, she leans back and looks up at him. "I still can't believe you're here... Best present ever!", she surges in to kiss him properly.
Settled in the car and on their way home, they can't keep their hands off each other. He runs his along the seam of her jeans at her inner thigh. She tangles one hand with his in her lap and trails her other through his shorter hair down to his newly exposed neck.
She twists in her seat to stare at him, unashamedly. She'll always have a soft spot for the long curls she fell in love with, but damn, this shorter cut really, really works for him too; drawing attention straight to those incredible eyes, perfect bone structure and fine features. "My God, you look so handsome", she purrs at him. Full on lady boner.
For this journey at least, she's grateful of the traffic, reaching over in any opportune moment to pepper him with playful kisses.
>
Pulling into the garage back at his, he lolls his head on the headrest towards her and grins, dimples popping.
"Two choices. Mercedes, top down, road trip up the coast for a picnic", he wagers with a boyish grin.
"Sounds dreamy", she smiles. "What's number two?".
"Naked. Bed. Now", he smirks.
"How long do I have you?", she checks.
"Only until tomorrow night", he winces.
"Race you upstairs", she grins.
>
He chases her all the way up two flights of stairs. Laughter bubbles from her as he pinches and strokes until he wraps his arms around her waist and pitches them face first on to his bed.
Pinned under his weight and roving hands, she begs for mercy.
He gives none.
Slipping his hands under her to undo her jeans, he slides them teasingly over the curve of her bum. Pausing mid way, he whispers in her ear.
"I had every intention of having you get yourself off for me", he drawls lowly. "For some visuals to accompany those phone calls", he bites at the shell of her ear before soothing it with his tongue. "But now I've got my hands on you... I can't possibly prise them off. Not even for a minute".
She sucks in a shaky breath before pushing back up against him for enough space to flip neatly on to her back. "Tomorrow", she winks before pulling him down for a hot kiss.
When he arches up to tug his t-shirt over his head, she's left drooling. "Fuck me, Harry...".
"Don't have to ask me twice, birthday girl", he quips with a smirk.
In appreciation, she squeezes a bulging bicep, trails her fingers over his defined chest and into the meat of his shoulders. "I know you're hating it, but days on end in the water looks damn good you, baby".
>
They only drag themselves out of bed when the gate buzzer blares.
She stops whining about it as soon as she sees that he'd arranged to have something special dropped off to treat her to an early dinner at the house, just the two of them.
He's in his boxers, manning the barbecue. She's in nothing but his oversized t-shirt, sipping a glass of Dom Perignon on the outdoor sofa on the balcony, eyeing him appreciatively.
If not a little warily. "Careful! There are some bits I'm perfectly happy to have without griddle marks!".
>
Coming up to join her, he drops each half of the huge grilled lobster on their plates. He hadn't let her lift a finger preparing the salad or baking the baguette either.
Topping up their glasses of bubbly, he settles close alongside her and clinks a toast. "Happy birthday, baby".
"It means everything to me that you came, H. God, I love you", she leans up to capture his lips with hers. "I've missed you so much", she sighs.
"Hey, none of that; not today. Just happy stuff, alright? Now dig in, it'll get cold".
After, having laughed their way through trying to get at all that delicious lobster meat without having all the little tools, they wipe each other down and snuggle into the sofa on the balcony just as the sun starts setting.
They finish off the bottle, catching up on the minutiae of the last six weeks. All the little things they can't bear to get into during their precious, snatched conversations. Idle gossip about friends and family. The lowdown on her new cast mates and how they're gelling. How he's really finding shooting the movie and how desperate he is to get back into the studio.
She can't stop raking her nails through the buzzed hairs at the nape of his neck. He can't keep his fingers from dipping teasingly under the hem of her t-shirt.
>
Just before 10pm, better late than never, their car finally pulls up at the curb outside The Nice Guy in West Hollywood.
He'd just about managed to avoid caving to all her prying questions, trying to wheedle details of the evening's plans out of him. Turns out the queen of surprises feels a little disconcerted at being on the receiving end of so many in one day.
Sliding swiftly out, heads down, they make for the slatted wooden door at the end of the monikered matte black wall. Harry steers her inside with a hand on her back, past the flashbulbs of the gathered paparazzi, who are shouting both their names for the first time.
Eloise trots quickly to keep up with his long strides in her strappy heels, leather mini skirt, one of his white t-shirts and her stunning new watch.
Handing her the small wrapped box, he'd said that if she's watching the time anything like as much as he is these days, he wants her to be eyeing something that reminds her of him. Swoon.
They bustle past the melee and head inside, but before the host can greet them, there's a chorus of cheers from the noisy rabble at the leather banquette booth in the corner.
Ben and Mer. James and Julia. Rosie and Jason. Jeff and Glenne. Suki and Sam too. Ansel and his girlfriend. Even Louis - admittedly looking a little dishevelled and sleep deprived.
Adele had left that afternoon for promo in New York. Liam is holed up with Cheryl in London. And Niall is - adorably, Eloise can't help but think - off backpacking in Asia.
Bottles litter the marble table top. They obviously haven't held back in getting started whilst awaiting their arrival.
The glow from the statement feature light suspended above them plays and dances across all their beautiful features.
Rosie doesn't hold back on complimenting the birthday girl. "Fuck me! You look and sound like sex on legs", she comments on her husky voice and the golden skin on show each time Harry's t-shirt slips off her shoulder. "No wonder he flew thousands of miles, just for one night".
>
It's raucous. Toasting her birthday and his surprise visit, they take another opportunity to wet baby Freddie's head with Louis again too.
When a boozed up guy approaches their table, interrupting James' juicy anecdote, they all stop and stare.
"Hey! Birthday girl, right? Come join us", he slurs slightly, starring intently down at Eloise, eyes roving to Rosie alongside her.
"Err, thanks, but I'm good here", she laughs him off.
He plants a meaty hand on their shoulders. "Come on, we'll show you girls a good time".
"Having a great time already, actually", Eloise shrugs his hand off sharply and turns back around.
Persistent, he drops down and crouches between them. "Don't look too obvious, but don't you recognise who I'm with over there...?".
Rosie scoffs as Harry and Jason both start to interject.
"Excuse me-".
"Mate-".
"Your entourage is way less impressive than you think it is", Rosie sasses, gesturing with a subtle nod of her head around their table.
"Goodbye now. Have a good night", Eloise raises her glass before draining it and turning back around, dismissing him and focusing back on Harry.
"Tosser", she sighs under her breath. He seems outwardly calm, but she reaches to squeeze his thigh under the table in reassurance anyway.
"I don't know, can't exactly blame him for trying, I guess", he shrugs with a sweet smile.
Huh, Harry keeping a lid on the green eyed monster? Definitely progress.
He drops his hand on top of hers and squeezes back. Then drags it up to his crotch. Less sweetly.
"That entourage shit was tragic", James laughs, interrupting them. "Anyway, how long are you here for, H?".
"Just tomorrow night", he winces as Eloise pouts.
"Ah, presume you'll be holed up in bed with this one then and too busy to see us?".
It's Ben's turn to wince. Eloise balls up a napkin and lobs it at James' head.
"Actually we've got plans", he sasses, grinning at Eloise. "A little road trip, right babe?".
"Slick move, young Harold! Well, we better make the most of tonight then. Shots then dance floor?", James challenges.
>
They all hit both hard.
Focusing on the here and now, and each other, Eloise and Harry resolve to worry about the rest of the harder stuff tomorrow; not least another goodbye.
So when Mer elbows Eloise on their way back from the toilets later and she spots who was amongst that sleazy guy from earlier's fêted entourage, she's not quite sure how to take it, but her gut screams at her not to tell Harry. Or Louis, shit.
Even if Zayn didn't know his friend's intentions, they've been making enough noise all night that she figures he at least made an active choice not to say hello.
It looks like they're getting ready to leave anyway, so she asks Mer to keep it between them and resolves to focus her energies on keeping Harry distracted.
Now, that, her gut doesn't have a problem with at all.
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