Layla
With the screeching sound and motion of tires hitting the ground after plentiful amounts of hours in the sky, I exhale out in peace, squeezing the hand of the man next to me as I slowly open my eyes. Despite the number of years in Hollywood, I have always and will always continue to despise flying. The amount of nausea that I acquire is ridiculous, forcing me to resort to medication to numb the unwanted pain and misery. But, this time, I have someone I can lean onto. In the past, I had Alfonzo, who while genuinely loyal and like a father, didn't thankfully whisper sweet words into my ear as we landed or took off into the clouds. This time, I had a partner in crime who provided a ear and shoulder to keep me at ease. He smells of wonderful and glorious peppermint as he hums peacefully my way, smiling brightly at my presence.
"Do you always get like this?" He asks me, wearing a look of concern mixed with hints of guilt.
"Unfortunately."
"Want me to tell you a joke?"
"God, no."
"Reckon it's a good one. Classic ten out of ten."
"Harry, one more joke and I'm jumping out of this plane."
"What do you call a bear with no ears?" He asks, dimples present, cheeks flushed with peach.
"I don't know, what?" I ask in response, awaiting the smile he holds captive, realizing my earlier threat held no true significance.
"A B!"
He laughs boldly and proudly as we near closer and closer to the airport. I give him a slight roll of my eyes as he softly giggles, leaning his head down onto my shoulder to rest. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding it in place before pressing a number of gentle kisses below my ear. I glance down at him as his joyful eyes meet my own in curiosity. "Want to hear another one?"
"Harry Styles...is this what you were reading the entire plane ride?"
"Maybe."
"I'm doomed, then. Completely, fucked."
"No, love listen. This is a great one. And as to your second request, I can find other ways to grant such a wish."
"I can't be seduced right now Styles, I'm far too nauseous to fall for your charm."
"You think I'm charming James?"
"Don't start."
"Oh, alright, listen. Why did the picture go to prison?"
"I don't know, why?"
"Because it was framed!"
I groan in response, unable to hide my own ridiculous smile as he grins at me happily, turning to kiss down my neck to kill the last remainder amounts of time we have left on the plane. I shut my eyes, lost in his touch and the pleasure it provides. However, the sudden sound of a snapshot nearby causes me to gasp, opening my eyes to see an older woman two rows up carefully holding her phone, stealing what should have been a delicately created moment between the two of us. I didn't think I had requested an audience. She knows she's been caught, saved by the bell as the pilot indicates we can now exit the plane. My heart is racing at the possibilities, but as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze, I'm returned back to earth and the man who holds my heart.
"Doesn't matter, Layla. Plenty more where that came from."
"Are you sure you don't mind this?" I ask for what feels like the hundredth time.
He nods in response, giving my cheek a faint kiss. "I told you, this is what I want. I'm done trying to hide it."
"Not what you did in the past," I add.
If he's hurt by such a statement, he doesn't make it apparent, knowing why I have my slightest doubts when I too want nothing more for us to love freely and openly. "This is different for me. I trust you, little darling. Now, be a doll and let's go before the old chap behind me does. He's had way too many spicy crisps during the flight and I can hear his stomach rumbling."
We make it out the plane with Alfonzo and Harry's bodyguard who goes by the name of Brandon follow swiftly behind. My hand is carefully laced together with the handsome man by my side as he holds my beloved suitcase in his other. As if I too am starstruck, I glance up at him in awe, blushing as he flashes me a quick wink in response. However, we manage to make it through the grand airport of LAX for a matter of only four exact minutes before a chaotic storm erupts. For we're swarmed with dedicated and loyal fans, capturing such an afternoon on camera to forever remember. They throw compliments, questions, and devotion as I keep my head down, holding onto my current anchor to keep me afloat.
Thankfully, we manage to make it outside soon, but the fun doesn't stop there. I felt safer inside as it's absolute mayhem. I've personally never seen this amount of media, reporters, and paparazzi outside the sliding doors. I'm stunned at first, blinded by the lights, feeling a certain someone tighten his hold on me as we proceed through. Alfonzo and Brandon step into the chaos first, guiding us forward to our car. I fear my hold on Harry may be forever lost as my ears are filled with curiosity and demands.
"Layla, so does this mean the two of you are now officially dating?"
"Harry, will you be attending the movie premiere?"
"How long have you two been seeing each other?"
My heart is pounding at an uncontrollable speed, but my hand is never disconnected from his own. He keeps me safe and protected, holding me forth until the doors of our car are closed and we're riding full speed ahead onto the highways of sunny and beautiful California. For a while there, we both don't say a word as we try to catch our breaths and wrap our minds of a current reality. I make the mistake of turning, facing him, seeing the frightened expression on his face and the ragged breathes that he exhales. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" I ask, tracing his cheek with my thumb, hating how pale he appears and the thin line of sweat that has formed along his forehead.
"Nothing, it's okay," he says, reaching for his bag, pulling out a small red inhaler before bringing it up to his mouth. I watch as he inhales deeply before releasing it, allowing the color to return back to his face. My own hands are shaking at how mad I am at the demanding thrills of the paparazzi for ever being the cause of such a reaction. Instantly, he begins to calm down, allowing me to lace my fingers into his small caramel curls, hoping to aid and increase his relief.
"How often do you get like this?" I ask.
"Quite rare, actually. Typically it's before a really big show or something. Last time was when..." His voice breaks, causing him to look into his lap in pure remorse. I frown, continuing to keep my smooth rhythm, running my fingers through his hair to relax him. He opens his mouth, choosing his words slowly and carefully as he nervously looks into my eyes. "Last time was when my stepfather...passed away."
He's never spoken about such a topic for we've barely brushed the surface over matters or mentions of family. It's clear he cared for him deeply and greatly for the reaction he wears speaks wonders. I don't want to press onto such a sensitive subject, but I feel comfortable with him as he does with me, allowing us to continue. "What was his name, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Robin. He and my mum weren't married for too long. But he absolutely adored her. Made her feel so special and so happy."
"How did they meet?"
"At a floral shop. We went shopping in town one day and he told her she was the most beautiful flower in the room."
"He sounds like a sweetheart."
"Real charmer."
I rest my head on his shoulders, eventually falling down to his lap as we both enter a tranquil world of slumber as we journey through the city. It's only when I feel the sensation of someone brushing through my hair this time with their fingers in which I return back to earth. My eyes open slowly, meeting those of an amiable and gentle soul. His face beams with excitement as I hold back a drowsy and minor yawn, sitting up only when he speaks.
"Welcome home," he says, giving me the chance to look out the window as well at the grand and alluring house before me. With a clean and mellow exterior, I allow him to take my hand in his own once more, leading me up to the bold navy blue front door. He presses a series of buttons, disarming the alarm, offering me an invite as he stands to the side. "After you, little darling," he states as I step into the air conditioned interior, curious and thrilled to finally enter his created world of possibilities.
I don't have the words to describe what I was expecting, walking inside, looking around the walls and the rooms belonging to the home that the one and only Harry Styles himself has created. If I could, it would be of only one true word and that word being—paradise. For the walls are painted a gorgeous and tranquil ocean blue, allowing the golden sun to pour in, filling the scene completely, welcoming you in. There's art and music painted and taped to the walls, reflecting the countries he's traveled to and the cultures he respects. The kitchen is grand, yet simple with white and marble as random bits of his personality are placed around. I look around as he shyly follows, awaiting my approval as I look down at the small cactus on the countertop.
"This is Sharon," he says, holding the pot carefully in his hands.
"And how long have the two of you been acquainted?"
"Hmm, about a year. Found her at a supermarket all by herself. Dunno, think she's kind of adorable."
"Sounds like I have some competition."
He grins widely, suppressing the presence of a prominent dimple as he approaches me, giving me a quick twirl. "You're my number one lady. Sharon is an old soul who just gets me at times, listens to my music whenever I'm sad or drunk."
His living room is as expected, holding many many years of his history and career. For it is filled with life, movies, and music. There's art from Eastern Europe, the Americas, and Asia. There's a colorful blanket placed over his cream colored sofas, clearly another token from his many travels and years on tour. But, I find myself lost in the beauty of a number of soft and delicate paintings placed on the wall, resembling peaceful and historic sightings. He notices, stepping up next to me, scratching the back of his neck.
"Found that at an antique shop in Japan."
"It's lovely."
"The entire country is extraordinary. One of my absolute favorite places."
"I've never been."
"Perhaps...one day we could change that? I'm an expert. Even know some Japanese myself."
I arch a brow. "Is that so?"
"Hmm. Japanese, Italian, French. I'm your guy."
I wrap my arms around his neck, loving the feel of him pulling me close by the curve of my body being in place with his own. For I don't think I'll ever be used to the beauty of him. The kindness of his soul and the broadness of his personality takes me by surprise everyday. I don't think I'll ever be used to how my heart races till this day by the sensation of his gentle touch as his own heart begins to pound against his chest at my presence. We share a kiss, surrounded in the home he's created and holds dear, taking him by surprise as I whisper into his ear.
"Ti amo moltissimo."
"Mon coeur est tien," he whispers back, gifting me with a passionate kiss.
His hands travel down to my thighs as he then effortlessly lifts me up, allowing my legs to wrap around his waist as he devours me completely and to the point of no return. He's filled with lust, leaving me breathless as I remain pinned against the wall. My lips must be swollen and pink by the number of kisses he's stolen, but I don't care. I focus my attention on him, loving the effect he has on me and I have on him. He holds me carefully in his arms, taking me to what I assume is his bedroom. It's then in which he playfully sets me down, taking one final kiss before raking a hand through his curls as he travels back to the door, much to my dismay.
"You'll be the death of me woman," he says, catching his breath as I try to do the same.
"Now Harry Styles, you can't kiss me like that and just leave me alone to fend for myself."
"Layla, darling...don't tempt me."
"What's stopping you?"
He approaches the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of my leg before pulling me forward. I laugh in response as he places multiple kisses, trailing up my thigh before wearing a remorseful look. "Forgive me, I have a conference call with Jeff and my producer in five."
"Harry, no..."
"I'm sorry my love. I'll make it up to you." I groan, stretching my arms to relax my body and rid countless thoughts of what it truly desires. My eyes are temporarily shut, opening only when I smell the presence of his warm cologne on my skin as he stands close. "I have a surprise for you tonight," he says.
"Now you know, I'm not too fond of surprises..."
"I know, I know. But you may like this one. Trust me."
He excuses himself, departing back to the living room, granting me some time to freshen up and rest. The aftermath of our travels and just flying in general leaves me irritable, but rather tired as I look up at the ceiling fan aimlessly. The minutes roll on by as sunlight pours through the peaceful and comforting bedroom. It's exactly as pictured. There's not much color in the room as all the walls are white and mostly bare. A few paintings here and there from abroad, probably holding a story to it that I hope to hear about one day. A vintage guitar rests in the corner, holding hours of hard work and dedicated lyrics. The room is grand, but empty in its entirety with a few photos of his mother and sister placed carefully along the nightstand. I wonder why that is as most of the house is heavily decorated and crafted. I don't press much into the matter, changing into a more comfortable and suitable outfit that consists of black shorts and a pink lounge shirt with sleeves. California in the winter is much more different than New York, but thankfully I came prepared and ready to go. I brush through my hair, placing my luggage in his bedroom for the time being, hoping that's okay with him before I return back out to the living room. I don't bother venturing upstairs as I'm not the type to snoop around into someone's private life without permission.
Thankfully, I find him seated at the kitchen counter, laptop in place, cell by his side. He's deep in thought, brows furrowed, chewing on the corner of his lower lip as another speaks. His eyes glance my way as I enter, flashing a playful wink as he diverts his attention from the laptop. He reaches for my hand, peppering my face with sweet kisses, pleading for me to stay by his side. I do as requested, taking a seat in his lap, sitting on his right thigh as he wraps a firm arm around my waist to keep me in place. And as the conference call continues on, he listens, browsing around the web.
"It's honestly, whatever you prefer and the sort of sound you want to create on this album. Give it some thought and time. Don't rush into anything just yet," Jeff comments, earning words of agreement from Harry.
The call ends shortly after as he pushes his electronics to the side as I steady myself onto the ground, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. "You look nice," he adds, accepting the cup I offer him.
Normally in the past, I wouldn't think twice about such comments and compliments, labeling them as false and insincere. But it's something about this man from day one that has captivated me even when I least expected it. Maybe it's the way he looks at me entirely, seeing me for more than a famous face and an opportunity. Maybe it's the way he smiles at me, providing the effect that it only belongs to me. Maybe it's the way that life and conversation just seem to fall easily together as I sense that once in my life I can be myself and not have every action judged or critiqued. I thank him, unsure what the day holds, but honestly just glad and grateful to be able to spend this time with him in complete peace.
"I brought my things to your room, I hope that's okay with you," I say, uncertain of his response.
"Of course it's okay little darling. Did you really think it wasn't? My home is your home. I want you to be comfortable, you know that, right?"
"I just don't want to bother you if you have work or need the space, I get that. Just say the word."
He walks up to me, tilting my chin with his index finger, forcing me to look into his bright and genuine eyes as he speaks. "I'm yours. I want to spend my time with you. Alright? I want to show you around, let you see why I fell in love with this place. I want to prove to you that it's totally better than New York."
"Watch it there, don't mess with my city. That was my first love."
"Really? You don't think I can change your mind?"
"Very unlikely."
"Well, maybe first I can impress you with my amazing cooking skills, hmm? What are you in the mood for?"
"Surprise me," I say with an uncontrollable smile.
"Didn't think you were fond of surprises?" He asks.
"Meeting you was a surprise, so it's safe to say that I've possibly grown to think otherwise."
His face flushes in response bashfully as he attempts to hold his happiness in at my words and thoughts. He then proceeds to rummage through the cabinets and fridge, realizing it's practically empty with ingredients due to the fact of the matter that he's been on the road for months now. He sighs momentarily, creating a solution by reaching for his keys and then my hand, holding a temptress like smirk that could only mean one thing--adventure.
"Baby, let's go for a drive, shall we?"
Thoughts on LA so far? What do you think of Harry in his California home?
How do you think the two are going to adjust staying here together?
Thoughts on how the movie premiere will go?
Think Harry will convince Layla to stay on the west coast?
Have any of you readers visited California? I've always wanted to go...
Please as always, vote and comment! I appreciate you all for reading, have a happy day!