44.
I don't go to hide with them.
I sit against the wall with the photographer that took our picture (I found out her name was Kathy). She makes me laugh with stories about weddings she's photographed throughout her career. Slowly, people filter in from the ceremony. They find their tables, quietly conversing with each other.
"So," Kathy smiles warmly at me. Without her telling me, I just know that she's a grandma. She has that comforting energy. "How long have you and that boy been together?"
My mouth twitches back and forth. I let out an uncomfortable laugh. If only that question didn't have such a confusing answer. I rack my brain for an easy way to explain it.
"Ah," I start, stumbling over my words. I feel my cheeks heating up. "I don't know," is what I finally land on.
Dumb. Dumb Quinn.
"It's a good thing you still get nervous about it all," she chuckles. "So many couples dive headfirst into relationships these days. So many young people sleeping with each other, ruining themselves," she rolls her eyes. I pull back, my eyes not doing much to mask my surprise.
Well, damn, Kathy. I thought you were cool.
I'm kind of put off. I don't really want to talk to her anymore. But I'm stuck here until the reception starts. My worst fear is mingling, and someone asking me how I know the couple. And then I have to tell them that I actually have no idea what they even look like.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, turning back to look out at the room. "Mmm," I hum quietly in response to her weird outburst of boomer energy.
"I mean," she starts up again. I feel my insides crumbling to dust. I want to crawl into a hole in the wall. "These days, people are getting so many tattoos and piercings. They're defiling their bodies, all in the name of this egotistical self-expression." She tuts gently to herself and shakes her head. "Real self-expression is creation, not vandalism."
I fight an eye roll and manage to disguise my involuntary scoff as a cough. "Mhm," I respond between clenched teeth.
"But not you dear," she reaches over and rests her hand on my knee. And I want to chop it off so badly. "You seem like a very nice young lady, you have a good head on your shoulders."
If only you knew.
Between the thin fabric separating her hand and my thigh, there are almost forty different tattoos etched into my skin.
A good head on my shoulders? Ha. Tell that to my irrational fear of the word girlfriend.
There's a hush that flies over the wedding guests, and then a loud cheer. I whip my head around to see the bride and groom walking through the doors.
Oh, thank God.
I shift away from Kathy and she moves her hand. From my vantage point, I have a pretty clear view of the couple.
She's very pretty, young, red hair cascading to her elbows. Freckles sprinkled down her arms and across her cheeks. Soft, pale skin blending with the pure white of her dress. She laughs gracefully, bending forward and holding her stomach, gasping for breath from excitement.
Her husband is linked to her arm, attached to her hip. He can't take his dark brown eyes off her. His hair is short, black and blending into his scalp. When he smiles, he runs his tongue over his teeth.
He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her into him as they walk. And suddenly I want nothing more than for Harry to hold me in the exact same way.
I twitch my mouth back and forth, and stand up from my chair, turning back to the photographer. "You're a dick, Kathy," I coo sweetly. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion. I finally allow myself one gentle eye roll, and wander away from her, towards the stage.
I slink around the black curtain hanging around backstage, and I'm suddenly met with bodies, huddled together like anchovies in the tiny backstage they temporarily set up for the night. Upon seeing me, Mitch violently shakes his head.
"Please, there's barely enough room as is," he groans and tosses his head back in agony. Sarah slaps his arm playfully.
"Believe me. I don't want to be back here either," I sigh, "But if I have to spend another second with Chatty Kathy I'm going to give myself an aneurism."
Nyoh snorts and glances up at me lovingly from her phone. I sit down on an empty case of equipment. The humidity of the small space and the bodies crowded into it makes a thin layer of sweat spring across my skin. I glance over at Harry.
He's sitting patiently, quietly, listening to the reception beyond the curtain and smiling to himself. This one isn't fake. I think he's calmed down from the sound check. To be honest, I'm not sure if the emotion came from his nerves over performing, or the lyrics he was singing while staring directly into my soul. Maybe a bit of both.
We sit, some of us more impatient than others (Mitch). Through the best man speech, the maid of honor's, toasts, and parents gushing over their new son and daughter-in-laws. Finally, I hear what feels like a cue. The best man gets up and says it's time for the first dance. It's time for a special surprise for the bride, whose name I have heard plenty of times by now. It's Kennedy, and her lovely husband's name is James.
"So, Kennedy," the best man chuckles. "This is going to blow your mind. But get out on the dance floor you two. Let's see some moves."
Everyone cheers and applauds. Harry coughs and ruffles his hair. He huffs out a deep breath, and his eyes hesitantly look to mine. I give him a reassuring nod and thumbs up, blowing him a little kiss. He cracks a small smile and pretends to catch it.
And then he stands up, shakes out his suit, cracks his neck, and pushes back the curtain to walk through. The band quickly follows after him.
There's a chorus of gasps, cheers, whispers.
"What?" A lilting voice screams. I hear Harry chuckle. I could pick out his voice a mile away. A smile forms at the thought of Kennedy's face right now. I stand up and brush my hands over my dress, gliding out of the backstage alcove and slipping into the crowd of guests around the dance floor. My head peeks between shoulders, trying to get a better view.
Harry stands there, his hands on hips, grinning at a gobsmacked Kennedy. She's frozen in shock, her face wild. James can't stop laughing and shaking his head, his hands pressed into his neck. Harry leans over to the microphone, clasping his hands behind his back.
"Good evening, all," he speaks gently, warmly. "I'm not sure if many of you know. Kennedy happens to be a big fan of Harry Styles. And, uh, I am Harry Styles," he grins cheekily. "She tweeted at me a while ago, inviting me to her wedding. And I thought, that sounds fun!" His tone is childish. He has the crowd wrapped around his finger. Had them the moment he stepped out from behind the curtain.
"Oh my God," Kennedy cries out and slaps her hands over her mouth. In my peripheral, I see phones being whipped out and held up to record the interaction.
"Kennedy," he offers gently. She chokes on a sob, her hands still over her mouth. "This is a happy day, no tears," he points sternly at her. She nods, still crying. "I was told that your first dance was going to be to Once in a Lifetime?"
She nods again, unable to speak. He grins ear to ear. "A true fan, ladies and gentlemen," he gestures to her nodding his head in respect. She chokes on another sob. James laughs and wraps himself around her from behind, gently rubbing her arms in comfort. "Well, Kennedy, if you don't mind, I would like to sing your first dance for you."
She nods obsessively, closing her eyes and composing herself with shaky breaths. James leans in to whisper something in her ear and she nods again, turning around to wrap her arms around his shoulders.
Charlotte scoots her stool closer to Harry, holding an acoustic guitar in her arms. She wraps its strap over her shoulders. Mitch does the same with his electric guitar, holding it lovingly in his hands.
Harry turns to look down at Charlotte. He smiles softly and nods to her. And she begins lightly playing the guitar, creating a gentle, lulling sound from the strings. Mitch plucks at the electric guitar. It echoes through the speakers.
And then it's just Charlotte's gentle playing again. Harry leans into the mic, his hands reaching to grab ahold of it. His eyes are trained on Kennedy and James, slowly swaying on the dance floor. Kennedy can't stop smiling through her teary eyes. James rubs his thumb across her cheek and puts his hand back on her waist.
"Once in a lifetime it's just right. We make no mistakes. Not even the landslide or riptide. Could take it all away."
He stares lovingly at the couple, but from where I stand, I also see a quiet intensity. He's trying to control his nerves. He grips the microphone harder.
"Somehow, it feels like nothing has changed. Right now, my heart is beating the same. Out loud, someone's calling my name. It sounds like you,"
His eyes flutter shut and his head tips back a bit for the chorus. A year ago I wouldn't have known the words. But after meeting Harry, I went through my One Direction phase (a little late I'll grant you). Watching him perform this is giving me a strange welling of emotions.
"When I close my eyes. All the stars align. And you are by my side. You are by my side."
Each note he sustains makes a shiver run up my spine. It's a completely different experience than watching him perform sound check. That felt guttural, a slap in the face that left a euphoria and heat in my veins. That felt voyeuristic, raw and stripped back to the point where I questioned if time was real.
This is power. Control. This feels like standing in the middle of a thunderstorm, the raindrops hitting you like fire. This feels like the way your heart pounds in your chest when a firework explodes.
He swallows dryly and his eyes open again. There's a fear spreading in them. He takes a deep breath and sings the next verse.
"Once in a lifetime, it's just right. We are always safe. Not even the bad guys in the dark night. Could take it all the way"
Charlotte, Sarah, and Nyoh softly begin a chorus of oohs. A few people in the crowd begin to catch on, mirroring their sound.
"Somehow, it feels like nothing has changed. Right now, my heart is beating the same. Out loud, someone's calling my name. And it sounds like you."
His hands are shaking. Why are his hands shaking?
It's barely noticeable. But I see his fingers wrap around the microphone even more intensely. I'm afraid if he tightens his grip anymore he'll break the equipment in half. I think about how he clings to a pillow when he sleeps, pressing it tight against his chest. A pillow, or me. That's how he's holding the mic right now, holding on for dear life.
The chorus of oohs grows louder as others join in. And soon, it surrounds us all in a soft blanket of sound.
"When I close my eyes. All the stars align. And you are by my side. You are by my side. You are by my side. You are by my side."
Mitch's electric guitar joins in again. With each echo of the line, Harry's voice grows louder. And louder, until he belts out, leaning back from the microphone. His eyebrows crease together in frustration, emotion, concentration, I'm not sure. But for the last echo of the cadence, he drops his head and murmurs it into the mic, his voice cracking.
Charlotte plays softly for a few seconds, vamping and letting Harry take a shaky breath.
He looks up from the mic, his eyes searching over the crowd until they lock with mine. Breathing heavy from emotion, sweating from backstage, he holds the mic with one hand, the other dropping to his side. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip.
"Once in a lifetime, you were mine."
There's a deafening silence when Charlotte stops playing. In the moment of pure peace, James leans down and kisses Kennedy. I watch the interaction, breathless.
And then a round of cheerful applause echoes throughout the room. Kennedy pulls back from James. They both sheepishly look around. And Harry steps away from the mic, hopping off the stage and walking over to pull them both into a tight hug. They stay like that for a moment, and then James pulls back and it's just Harry giving the absolute biggest bear hug to Kennedy.
He kisses the top of her head and then pulls back to hold her at arm's length, leaning down to say something to her, a wide smile only broadening with her sheepish response. His dimples are showing. His eyes are glowing. I can tell he's proud of himself, content.
He pulls her back into one more tight hug, and then hands her off to James and runs back to stage, hopping on his mic again.
"Alright, everyone get out on that floor now, let's have some fun," he gestures. They follow his orders, flooding the space. A devilish gleam dances in his eyes. He nods to Mitch, and then turns back to his microphone. Before I can even register what's happening, he's begun to sing.
"She worked her way through a cheap pack of cigarettes..."
We get all the fun songs tonight. Obviously. It would be kind of silly to sing about heartbreak at a wedding. He plays Kiwi, Only Angel, Carolina, Sweet Creature, Stockholm Syndrome, and then begins to drift away from his own music, dabbling in a few covers.
Fleetwood Mac's "You Make Loving Fun" I was expecting. "Juice" by Lizzo, I was not.
His presence when he's performing was not something I anticipated. Specifically his intensity. It's like he's himself, but with thirty red bulls. He has so much energy. He flirts with the bridesmaids, congratulates the mother-in-laws, tells maybe thirty knock knock jokes. But the crowd loves it. They eat it up. So do I. He's addictive.
After forty minutes he waves goodbye, says he'll stick around for a little bit for some cake. The band begins packing up their equipment and a DJ takes over the music.
He jumps off the stage and walks over to me. I'm leaning against the back wall, arms over my chest, still in awe at the performance he just gave. He gives me a sweaty smile, his eyes crinkling in self-doubt.
"How was that?" he pants.
"That," I mumble, trying to gather a coherent thought, "was ridiculously cool."
He grins. "You think so?"
The way his face lights up at my words, makes my heart flutter. I have a feeling the only opinion he cares about in this entire room is mine.
"You are ridiculously cool," I murmur, side eyeing him nervously.
He's taken back by this, pulling away in surprise before leaning even closer. "Is that so?" He whispers in my ear. I nod sheepishly. He grins to himself and laces our fingers together. "Wanna dance?"
I smile back and let him lead me out onto the dance floor, some hip hop song blaring over the speakers. I don't know. Sarah seems to know the words. She's really giving it her all a couple feet to our right. Mitch standing next to her, awkwardly bouncing to the beat. I chuckle at the sight.
Harry wraps his hands around the back of my neck and I do the same with his. After a second, he hesitantly slides his own down to palm my hips, before running them back around to wrap around my back.
"That's okay?" He tilts his head.
I nod. "Of course it's okay."
"I know you don't like it when people touch your back."
My heart shoots up into my throat at the thought of him remembering such a small, intimate detail about me. "You're really, sweet, did you know that?" I blush and wrap my arms tighter around his neck. He smiles shyly, his dimple digging into his cheek. "It's okay. I like it when you do it like this." He nods enthusiastically and pulls me in closer.
The music shifts drastically, from the upbeat hip hop song to a much slower, love ballad.
"Oh," his eyebrows perk up.
"Yeah, this DJ's shit." I finish his thought.
a/n hope you guys are ready for some drama because these next few chapters are going to go hard.