a/n hey friends! hope you enjoy!
21.
We stop at a nearby salon, nothing fancy, nothing he's associated with. I really just pulled directions for the first hair salon to come up on google maps. He waits for me awkwardly in the lobby, while I laugh and get to know the stylist.
"What are we doing today?" He runs his hands excitedly through my hair. He had already spent five minutes fawning over my color.
"Going blonde again," I smile.
The whole ordeal takes two or three hours because the blue is so vibrant, but finally it looks exactly how I wanted it to. I grin at myself in the mirror, my hair is blonde and has slowly grown out over these past couple of months to shoulder length. They style it, and I get up out of the chair and make my way over to Harry in the lobby.
He's slumped down in a chair, his nose in his phone, a hand pushed up in his hair to hold it back, but when he hears footsteps he quickly glances up. His face immediately morphs into a huge grin.
"Hey stranger," he laughs. I run my hand through my hair, I can't help myself. Then he gets a little more serious, his eyes soften. "Feel better?" He murmurs.
"It feels fresh, and clean," I decide and nod. This is what I needed to do. The strange feeling of panic that was starting to creep over me has subsided again.
We go to the front desk to pay, and he takes a photo with a few of the receptionists who had their eye on him. Then we head back out to the car.
"Does that ever get annoying?" I ask as we walk back out through the front door. He squints in the sunlight and knocks his sunglasses down from his hair to the bridge of his nose.
"What?"
"I feel like you've been spotted a lot today. And you have to stop and take pictures with people and talk to them. It's just, it feels like a lot today, don't you think?"
He laughs and looks around the parking lot, forgetting where we left the car. "You've got to think about it differently."
"How so?" I see a sliver of bright yellow and begin heading in that direction. He follows.
"This is the first and probably only time they're ever going to meet me. Sure, I might meet ten fans in a day, but they only meet me once. They mean so much to me, and I mean so much to them. To ruin that interaction for them, just because it happens more than once for me, that feels cruel."
"But you're also a human being," I remind him. "And it's okay to be exhausted and take care of yourself. It's okay to take a moment where you make yourself happy, instead of everyone else."
He pauses, his eyebrows knit together. I seize the opportunity to snatch the keys from him and slide across the hood of the car, claiming the driver's seat. "Hey," he calls out playfully.
"The next destination is a surprise."
We climb into the car and I back out of the parking lot, getting back onto the road and then eventually the highway. Harry's silent for a bit, but finally he speaks up.
"You're right," he mumbles. "It's okay for me to put myself first sometimes, but it's, well it's a fine line."
"How so," I keep my eyes trained on the road.
"Well my position is very unique," he speaks slowly, making sure each word is exactly what he means. "It's my job, as a singer and performer, an entertainer, to make others happy. When I leave the house I'm human, but I'm also a symbol for a lot of people. My career would never have happened if it wasn't for them, and it wouldn't continue if it wasn't for their support. I don't think it's fair to them to not show how grateful I am. And I can do that through giving them something, and that thing just so happens to be a moment with me."
"So it's a fine line between making yourself happy and making others happy."
"Yes." He interlocks his fingers and stares down at his rings, crinkling his nose. "Because their happiness is what allows me to do what makes me happy."
"Very convoluted," I tease and elbow him gently. He smiles and looks over at me.
"That's what people tell me."
"That you're convoluted?"
"Yeah."
"What should we listen to," I reach my hand for the radio and the speakers crackle to life. A voice breaks through the static.
"That was Ariana Grande with 'God is a woman', now it's time for a throwback I'm sure is all near and dear to our hearts. This is KPWB 95 Pop."
A soft chorus of clapping and snapping begins, and then a chord rings out and Harry's eyes light up. I turn to him to ask if he knows the song, but a familiar voice suddenly begins to sing from the speaker, and I put the pieces together.
"You gotta help me, I'm losing my mind, keep getting the feeling you want to leave this all behind."
He shouts along to the song. I chuckle and turn up the knob on the radio, trying to hear the track. This must be One Direction, I decide.
"Thought we were going strong, I thought we were holding on, aren't we?"
He hands an imaginary microphone over to me. I shrug sheepishly as a new voice starts to sing. "I don't know the words I'm sorry."
He takes the microphone back, brushing my comment away, and shouts out the next lyrics.
"No they don't teach you this is school, now my heart's breaking and I don't know what to do."
I nod along, keeping my eyes on the road.
"Thought we were going strong, thought we were holding on, aren't we?"
The music pauses for a second, and I can feel us standing at the edge, looking over a cliff at the chorus. Then they begin to shout from the speaker. Harry rolls down his window.
"You and me! Got a whole lotta history!" He shouts out at the highway.
By the time the second time the chorus rolls around, I think I've figured it out. The hook is good, it's easy to latch onto. I sing along the second, and third, and fourth time. He throws his head back when he shouts out the lyrics, closing his eyes and letting his hand hang out the open window. Every time he shouts out "we can live forever" his back arches up off the chair and he pulls his hands close to him in fists. The song dies out. I turn down the radio.
"Wow," I laugh, a little out of breath.
"Like it?" He turns to me. I nod.
"If I didn't see the boyband in you before, I've definitely seen it now."
We pull into a tattoo parlor. His eyes light up.
"No fucking way," his toes tap excitedly, he practically jumps out of the car. The song seems to have put him in a good mood. "You're getting a tattoo?" He calls out to me over the roof of the car. I nod and lock the car behind us, making my way toward the building. He skips after me. "What will it be?"
"That's another surprise, for both of us," I laugh, shrugging. "I have a few ideas. I just knew I wanted to get one while I was here, so I booked an appointment."
We step into the parlor, the air conditioning immediately hitting us. I walk up to the glass counter, underneath it are rows and rows of earrings and piercing jewelry.
"Hi, Bellini for five o'clock," I smile at the man behind the counter.
"Yes! Follow me," he broadly gestures for us. We walk out of the lobby and into a room in the back. A big chair sits cemented into the floor. Giant windows let the afternoon LA sun filter in, and the walls are covered ceiling to floor in different designs. In the corner sits a potted plant, slowly scaling its way up the room.
I sit down in the big chair, and Harry pulls up a smaller plastic one, resting his head back against the wall. The man sits down in front of his materials and computer. "Alright," he starts. I glance over at Harry. He's taking in the room, his eyes bright. "I'm Manny by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Manny."
"You too," he smiles. "So you sent a few things over last time we talked. What did you decide on?"
I look over at Harry again. "To be honest I still haven't picked one," I laugh. "Harry," I call out to him. His head snaps to meet mine.
"Yeah?"
"Want to take a look? Help me out?"
I didn't think it would be possible for him to get more excited, but that's what happens. Though to the untrained eye I'm sure he looks normal. But I see the signs. He's got his lips pressed together, his eyes hardly blink. His toe is tapping and his fingers drum along his knees. When I ask, he shoots up out of the chair and dashes to the computer.
"You said you emailed them?"
Manny laughs and pulls open the pictures. "Here's the stuff she sent."
He stares silently at the screen, looking over each option, and then points to one, but I can't see because his body is blocking my view. "That one."
"Yeah, that's what I was liking too," Manny agrees.
"Could we maybe, stretch it out a bit? And do something slightly more simplistic, like just that bit," Harry gestures with his hands in a very intentional way. His voice morphs back into what I heard in the studio this morning. He's in his element, he's in control. "And get rid of that bit." I crane my neck.
"Which one?"
"Are you okay with any of them?" Harry turns to ask me, his frame still blocking the computer screen. I nod. "Then you don't get to know yet," he smirks. I roll my eyes.
"It's going to be on me forever," I whine jokingly.
"Oh hush," Harry teases. We both know that neither of us care about permanency like that. Manny prints out the design, hiding it from view. I pull the fabric of my blue midi skirt up to reveal the tattoos, and point to the spot on my outer thigh.
"That's kind of where I'm thinking," I explain. Manny nods, pressing the transfer paper down onto my skin and rubbing the design out onto it, before removing the paper and stepping back to look. I stare dramatically at the ceiling, refusing to look down at it, which amuses Harry.
"Yeah that looks really good," he decides.
For the next twenty minutes I sit in the chair, my skirt bunched up in my hand, as Manny leans over the spot on my thigh with his equipment. I feel the familiar buzz against my skin, which leads to the gentle buzzing in my ears and brain. It's a release, a calming feeling. I feel myself growing a little woozy at the pain, my head cloudy. I smile over at Harry.
"This concludes my plans for the day."
He raises his eyebrows. "I see, but the night's just beginning."
"That it is. Do you have any ideas?"
"A few," he decides, a smile fighting its way onto his face.
"When did you start getting tattoos?" Manny asks, his eyes never leaving my leg.
"A long time ago," I give him the short answer. He nods.
"You've got some killer ones. I love the tiger."
I nod and chuckle. "Yeah that's one of my favorites."
The buzzing stops and Manny leans back, smiling. "There we go, want to see before I cover it up?"
"Yes." I nod. He pulls out a small mirror and holds it up against my leg, tilting it so I can look down and see.
Along the outer length of my thigh is a delicate willow branch.
"Oh," I gasp excitedly. My eyes can't look away. I hear Harry laugh nervously from behind me.
"You like it then?" He begs. I nod.
"Yes, it's beautiful." I force myself to look back over at him. When I do, Manny puts away the mirror and pulls out a bandage. "I was secretly hoping it would be that one. And I like how you toned it down a bit, made it simpler."
"Good," he sighs, and suddenly I see he was carrying some nerves over the whole ordeal. It reminds me of how he felt when I told him I liked Ever Since New York. He's relieved. The way he respects my artistic eye makes me weirdly giddy.
"Alright, we're all set then," Manny grins and stands up. I look back down at my thigh, the willow branch is covered by a soft, thick bandage.
I pay for the tattoo, thank Manny, and we're out the door and back on the road. This time Harry takes the keys back, driving us home. As we pull into the driveway, my eyebrows furrow.
"I thought you said you had an idea."
"Yeah, but we have to change," he sighs dramatically at my impatience.
"Alright, so where will we be going?" I step out of the car and start heading for the house. He follows close behind.
"There's this," he presses his lips together, "event tonight. I was invited to. I was considering not going because you're in town, but if we need something to do tonight."
"Okay," I fill the awkward space. "How dressed up are we talking."
"It's a birthday party," he tries again. I nod along. We step into the house and I kick off my shoes, throwing Cherry and my bag down on the couch.
"So--"
"For a friend of mine," he puts together the pieces and then purses his lips.
"Okay," I laugh and shrug. "So how dressed up," I repeat my question.
"I would say, fairly," he responds. I roll my eyes as we make our way up the stairs and to the bedrooms.
"You're being weird," I chastise. A smile lingers behind his eyes.
"You'll see why."
"Are you ready?" I knock impatiently on his door. He sighs from the other side.
"No! No I'm not ready I've barely begun."
"You can't be serious," I look down at my watch. It took me all of twenty minutes to get ready. He's been in there for thirty-five. I'm beginning to doubt my fashion choices. Should I have dressed up even more? What's taking him so long? "Can I help at all?" I try.
"Fine," he snaps open the door to let me in, and his eyes immediately take me in. His mouth softens as it parts open. "Wow, Quinn."
I glance down at the dress, sequined in blue and yellow stripes and low cut around my chest.
Then I look back over him, all he's got on is his underwear, he isn't even dressed yet. "Wow yourself," I joke, and step around him into the bedroom. On the mattress laid out are three different outfits. "You can't decide, huh."
He leans back against the wall and stares at the ceiling. "It's not fair, you had your hair styled earlier today so you didn't have to worry about it. Otherwise it would have taken you just as long."
"Sure," I teasingly concede and look over each option. "Here," I hold up a light teal button up under a gray blazer that was laid out on the bed. "If you wear this one we can match. That'd be fun."
He glances down from the ceiling to the outfit, and then from the outfit to me. "You want to match," he mumbles.
I shrug. "Sure why not." His eyes narrow.
"Quinn what's going on today," he asks. His voice is low suddenly, raw. It reminds me of the tone he used on the phone with Louis.
"What do you mean?" I ask, but I feel the back of my neck heating up. I know what he means.
"Waking up in my bed, showing me your thigh, helping me write a song, salty food, letting me pick your tattoo, matching outfits" he murmurs coldly. "This isn't you. The only time I feel like I saw you today was when you decided to go dye your hair."
I sigh and sit down on the bed, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know, Harry," I whisper. He doesn't move from his spot on the wall, just crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head to listen.
"Was it last night?" He offers.
"Maybe," I stare out his window at the ocean. "I think it's more this city."
"Explain."
I press my lips together. "It feels, like I'm someone else," I try. He nods slowly, his face remaining blank, unchanging. "When I'm here, you know, this isn't home. Everything feels less permanent, less important. Like nothing I do here has any consequences."
"But it does," he whispers. "It's my home. And you can't possibly not know how I feel." He bites his lip. "I'm not very good at hiding things from you."
I don't say anything, my fingers trace the slit in my dress, feeling the bumps of the sequins. I suppose I do know, maybe I was just trying to deny it. But the quick looks my way, the other night after the fire, his desire for me to stay last night. I do know how he feels, what he wants. It terrifies me. Even now, I feel trapped, like I'm drowning a little. This conversation is drowning me. I stare out the window, refusing to look at him.
"If this is just a game to you--"
"It's not," I quickly contradict him. He sighs.
"You just said that you don't feel like anything you do here has consequences."
"Harry," I turn to face him. "I like you, okay? In New York, that scares me. Here, right now, it doesn't. No labels, just a good day together. Can that be enough for now?"
His eyes are heavy, but he doesn't let himself break. "You want to pretend? Is that it?" He asks softly. My dress suddenly feels so itchy. I stand up, tossing the shirt and blazer back down onto the bed.
"I want a drink, that's what I want. I want to get really drunk."
He watches me storm out of the room, my heels tapping sharply against the wood floor. The door clicks closed behind me.
a/n muahahaha cliffhanger
I don't know if this is obvious or not, but the chapter titles are names of songs whose lyrics match the tone/plot of the chapter! I'll start leaving the song title and singer at the end of chapters, so you can go give them a listen if you wish :) Just a fun thing!
"How Can I Be Sure Of You" Harry Nilsson