Damn This Wild Young Heart.

“You look ridiculous in sunglasses at night,” I told Harry the second we slipped out of the ice cream shop. We were making our way to the more crowded part of Haight Street, crowds of people still hanging around even at nine o’clock at night.

“I’m trying to avoid a repeat of earlier today,” he said, the large Ray Bans still taking up the majority of his face. It was hard to look at him without laughing, because it still looked like he was either an extreme douche bag or planning to rob a convenience store.

“The only people that hang around the Haight this late at night are either too pretentious or too in their own world to listen to One Direction.” I pointed out. “I kind of think you’re okay.”

Harry laughed, before finally obliging my wishes and lifting the sunglasses from his face slowly, before folding them gently and tucking them on his shirt. “Can you take me seriously now?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I suppose so.” There was a moment of silence as we walked along the street, passing a pair of street performers, their ukulele straining to be heard over the ruckus of the street. “What do you want to do, my famous friend?”

“Um…” He trailed off, looking around. “I was headed towards the beach when I left.”

“The beach?” I asked, skeptical. People did not come to San Francisco to go to the beach, mainly because while the lovely metropolis did in fact, have a beach, the weather was never quite beach appropriate. “This is a city that revolves around sixty degree weather.”

“What else do you recommend, then?”

I took in a deep breath as I contemplated. “I am thinking two things right now.”

“Which are?” He prompted, turning to me with a slight quirk in his eyebrows.

“I want a chocolate croissant. And also I am feeling really bad because I invited you to go adventuring and I don’t really have a plan.” I admitted. We were still walking down the street, weaving through small crowds of people and passed closed vintage clothing stores. I was thinking that maybe this was going to be more difficult than I thought, because the typical touristy San Francisco things to do at this hour were closed and damn, why was all of my creativity draining when I suddenly had someone to impress?

“Isn’t the point of adventuring not to have a plan?” Harry asked, and then he turned to me. “I’m up to do just about anything, I reckon. Did you have plans tonight?”

“I was invited to a party?” It was supposed to be a statement but it sounded more like a question and I was getting more flustered the more I walked, because I was realizing that I was walking down the streets of San Francisco with Harry Styles. I don’t actively listen to One Direction, beside the occasional singing jaunt when they’re on the radio, but I watch TV, I browse the internet, I follow the man on Instagram because he’s a bit funny and my friend Noemi has a weird celebrity complex. And now I’m walking next to him. And I offered adventure and I don’t have a plan. “My friend Dakota is going to this rooftop party thing and she wanted me to go. But like, we don’t have to.”

“Rooftop party?”

I nod. “This guy lives in a really nice building and they made their rooftop into a garden. She said it’s pretty cool. There are hammocks.”

Now Harry looked intrigued. “It’s a life rule of mine to never resist a hammock.”

“Are you up for a bit of a walk?”

Harry looked down at his shoes pointedly. “You know what they say about boots.” He replied.

Um, no I didn’t. I looked at him quizzically.

“They’re made for walking.” He supplied.

I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, looking over at him and shaking my head. “That is an awful joke. Please don’t say that ever again.”

Harry blushed, the flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, before he nodded and let out a small chuckle. His hand reached up to his hair, fixing the beanie around on his head uncomfortably. “Sorry. I make a lot of stupid jokes.”

“Oh man, me too. In high school my chemistry teacher hated me so much because I was always making stupid chemistry jokes and distracting everyone.”

Harry laughed. “I don’t know if I remember enough about chemistry to actually understand any of the jokes, but I absolutely hated it.”

“I haven’t taken it since high school, but I think I remember enough.”

“How old are you, then?” Harry asked. We passed by a large crowd coming out of an art gallery, squishing together to get past a couple that looked like they were in the middle of an argument.

“I’m about to turn nineteen the end of the month.” My birthday was actually seven days away (I was counting) and I was excited to no longer be on the cusp of adulthood, but rather more in the thick of it. Not that turning nineteen would change my life drastically or instill me with all of the wisdoms of adulthood, but I still had this hope that things would be different.

“Are you in university?” He asked, turning the side of his face towards me. He really did have a nice profile.

“I just finished my first year at Berkeley.” I replied. “I’m an art history major.”

“Art history? Like you study paintings?”

I shrugged a bit. “Yeah, in a sense. It’s like, studying paintings but the history behind them and their cultural significance, I guess? I want to one day be a museum curator or own an art gallery. It’s as close to being an artist that I can get with my lack of artistic talent.”

“That sounds really cool.” He said. “Learning about art all day. When we went to Italy, we had a few days off and we went to a couple museums. They were all brilliant, with these huge paintings and sculptures. I’ve always admired people who can make things like that.”

“Me too.” I agreed. “I wanted to be an artist up until I was ten, when I realized that even my stick figures looked slightly wobbly. I tried so hard to get better, but some people just have it and others don’t.”

“I wanted to own a bakery when I was a kid.” Harry admitted. “I even got a job at one when I was younger and realized how much work it was. Then I wanted to be a singer and now…here I am.”

“Mission accomplished then, yeah?” I joked.

Harry laughed. “I’d probably say so.”

We were moving quickly, his stride long, but I didn’t struggle to keep up. My legs might have been a bit shorter, but I was a city girl. I was used to walking fast and with a purpose.

“Whose party are we crashing again?” He asked after a second.

“Um, his name is Rob. But technically we aren’t crashing, because he invited my friend Dakota and I’m an implied plus one with her.” I explained. Dakota was my best friend/soul mate. She lived down the hall from me and we met on the first day of freshman year, at orientation. She complimented my tote bag (it had a pug on it) and I was obsessed with her shoes (they were bright green) and we kind of latched onto each other, looking for someone to float through those first weeks of orientation with. At the end of freshman year, she asked if I wanted to share her aunt’s tiny studio apartment with her for the summer and I’ve been pretty ecstatic about my summer in the city ever since.

“And so I’m your implied plus one?” He joked.

“Kind of sort of? I don’t know if bringing strange boys to parties is implied with me,” and actually I wasn’t sure how much shit I was going to get for bringing a pop star to a party full of art students. “But it can’t hurt to shake things up every once in a while.”

“And shake things up we will.” He concurred, a grin spreading across his face. “Now continuing on with our Getting to Know You Section, what is your favorite animal?”

“Getting to Know You Section?” I repeated. “When did that become a thing?”

“About five seconds ago, when I christened it a thing,” he replied cheekily. “Now let me guess…are you a cat person?”

I scoffed. “Farthest thing from true ever. I got scratched by a cat when I was seven and have deemed them demonic beasts ever since. Try again.”

He hummed out a sound of concentration, before turning towards me. I signaled for him to turn down the block with my head, because we had one more block to go before we reached the building.

“Dogs, then. You are a dog person.”

“Not the hardest wager ever, but yes, I’m a dog person.”

Harry rolled his eyes at my sass, but he didn’t look particularly peeved, just more contemplative again. Then, with a burst of a HA! he said, “Pugs! I bet you like pugs! You’re a pug person!”

I stopped short, staring at him with wide eyes. “How on earth do I seem like a pug person?”

“I’m right then, aren’t I?” He smiled victoriously, all too smug for my liking. “And you just do – like, some people are lab people are some people like Chihuahuas and some people like pugs and you are a pug person.”

“I can’t tell if I should take that as a compliment or as in like, you think my face is really smashed down?” I asked, a little concerned.

Harry only laughed. “Take it as a compliment and as a sign of my excellent people reading skills.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you’re just superior in your people reading skills.” I replied wryly. “You’ll have to hold off for now, though, because we’re here.”

I stopped in front of a large brick building, the shrubbery in front trimmed perfectly and the steps swept of any debris. Harry took the steps two at a time as he hopped up. I reached forward and pressed the call button.

“Password, please?” A slightly drunken voice asked.

“Tulips.” I answered. There was a slightly buzz and then the light on the door turned green, signaling we could come in.

Harry reached for the door and held it open for me, a move I looked at with raised eyebrows.

He firmly closed the door behind him as we headed towards the lift. “Tulips?” He asked.

“Rob thinks that they look like vaginas,” I explained. “So he finds them simultaneously hilarious and disgusting. It’s a bit of a running joke.”

“Sounds hilarious.”

The elevator doors opened seconds after that and we both hurried in. I pressed the very last button, just an asterisk that signaled the roof, and waited for the doors to close.

“Are you prepared for this?” I asked him, a bit of faux-seriousness with my genuine concern. “I don’t want you to get mobbed.”

“Do you think I’m going to be mobbed?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t really know, to be honest. I only know a few of these people.”

“So you might be potentially throwing me to the wolves?” He asked, but he didn’t sound extremely distressed.

“Perhaps, yes.” I admitted.

“Good to know, good to know.” He muttered. “But I think I should be fine.”

The elevator moved quickly, bringing us up to the roof in a matter of seconds. The doors opened, revealing an exquisitely decorated garden, lantern lights illuminating rows of flowers and trees, hammocks strung between thick trunks. There was a table full of cupcakes, people lounging around everywhere, and champagne floats in probably every hand. It would have been an elegant affair, had there not been obnoxiously load rap music pulsing through me and a crowd of sweaty teenagers gyrating on my left.

I held in the urge to laugh, because the juxtaposition was almost comical. I looked over at Harry, who had one eyebrow raised in apprehension.

“Seems like a blast.” He finally said.

This time, I did let out a bit of a chuckle.

“I want to find Dakota,” I said.

Harry nodded and I started to weave my way through the crowd. There were a lot of people here, probably more than should be legally on the rooftop, and I was attempting to weave through people easily, hoping that I wouldn’t lose Harry, but it was becoming difficult.

When I looked behind me, he was a few people back, stopped by two girls with drinks in their hands. We made eye contact for a second, his eyes wide and looking a little desperate. With a sigh, I turned around, making my way back towards him.

I made my way to his side quickly, watching as both girls gave me a rude stare.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I said quickly, “but we’ve really got somewhere to be. C’mon, Harry.”

This time, I grabbed his arm, wrapping my hand around his wrist to secure that he would stay behind me as I dragged him through the crowd. I had a feeling Dakota would be on one of the hammocks and it didn’t take long before I saw her mess of brown hair through the crowd.

“Dakota!” I called over the people. She lifted her head up, finding me through the people. With more balance than I had, she maneuvered her legs out of the hammock, so she was sitting up in it.

“Lola, the light of my life, the fire of my loins,” she sang, before I stood right in front of her, Harry Styles coming up right behind me. She shut up quickly.

“Hi.” I said.

She looked about two seconds away from completely flipping a shit on me.

“Oh my God.” She said. “Kylie texted me that you had Harry Styles with you but I totally thought that she was lying!”

Behind me, Harry shifted. “Hello,” he said. “Harry Styles. Lovely to meet you.” He reached out a hand.

Dakota took it quickly, standing up and shaking his hand. “Dakota Ferris. Pleased to meet you.”

Dakota looked away from Harry and to me, her eyes questioning, but I ignored it.

“Harry and I are exploring San Francisco and I thought a lovely rooftop garden with a great view would be an excellent first stop.” I explained.

Dakota smiled. “The views are exquisite, yes.”

There was a lull in conversation, Dakota wanting to ask me probably a million and one things but not wanting to do so in front of Harry. Apparently Harry was in tuned to these kinds of things, because he politely excused himself.

“I’m going to get a drink. Would either or you like anything?” He asked.

Dakota shook her head, motioning to the almost full bottle of champagne at her feet.

“A soda would be good,” I said.

Harry smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

The second he was out of ear shot, Dakota started screeching. And hitting me.

“What the hell are you doing here with Harry Styles!? How did you meet!? What is going on!?”

“Ow!” I protested, as she slapped a hand against my arm. “If you’d stop freaking out I can explain things to you!”

She quieted down, but only marginally. “Start talking, missy!”

“It’s not that exciting of a story, really.” I offered. “He came into the ice cream shop looking for a place to hide and he seemed a little put out that he wouldn’t be able to explore San Francisco. I asked him if he wanted to do some exploring with me, he said yes, and here we are.”

“’And here we are?’” She repeated. “Um, no, here you are with Harry Styles, international pop star and delicious man morsel. How can you be so cavalier about this?”

“He’s just a boy, Dakota. Yes, he’s scrumptious, yes, he may be famous, but he’s still just a boy.”

“I guess, but damn. You are playing tour guide to Harry Styles, you lucky minx.”

I shrugged. “I guess so.”

Dakota continued to interrogate me, our conversation decidedly Harry-driven until I noticed that at least ten minutes had passed and he still wasn’t back.

“Speaking of the man himself, where is he?” I turned towards the party, moving around to try and catch a glimpse of him, but there were at least ten other boys wearing black beanies in the crowd.

“Maybe he got abducted by some overly zealous fans.” Dakota offered.

“Or maybe he left. I knew I shouldn’t have taken him to a party, but it was the first thing I thought of.”

“Lola, we live in a city full of excitement. Take him somewhere exciting.”

“Like where?” I asked. “Most of the touristy places are closed.”

“Then don’t take him to one that’s closed. There are about a jillion other landmarks that don’t close. Just go explore. You love doing that. And then maybe at the end of your exploration, jump his bones.” She said slyly with an innocent shrug.

I only laughed. “I guess I should go find him.”

Dakota nodded. “Probably a good idea, girlie. Text me later. Or don’t, depending on how things go.”

I only continued to laugh, before waving to her as I moved to the thick of the party, looking for Harry. He might’ve gotten stopped by someone or maybe he even left. I wouldn’t exactly blame him. I wasn’t even famous, but as I walked through the party, people looked at me strangely; word spreading quickly that I’d brought a celebrity to a house party. (Roof party? Did it count as a house party if it wasn’t technically inside?)

I searched through the throng of people, past the drink tables, and was started to meander into the maze of flowers and trees when I saw a pair of scuffed brown boots pressed against a tree, leading up to a pair of gangly legs and a body in a hammock. Harry was laying in the hammock, his drink swinging down the side in one hand, the other scrolling through his phone.

“Hey,” I said as I approached him.

Harry looked up with a smile. “’Ello. Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with Dakota and I saw a hammock free, so I had to take the chance.”

I chuckled. “It’s alright, I understand. One can never pass up a hammock and all that. So what’re you doing?”

“Taking a video of myself in a hammock.” He answered.

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m a bit obsessed with Vine.” He admitted.

“God, you’re so weird.” I laughed, before propping myself against the tree opposite from him.

“I think I could fall asleep right now.” He said. “This thing is damn comfortable.”

“It looks pretty comfy,” I agreed.

Harry just looked at me for a second, before he sat up, carefully leaning over to set his drink on the ground before beckoning me forward. “C’mon, then. There’s room enough for two. Get in her, Ms. Lovely Lola.”

“How much have you had to drink?” I asked, but took a hesitant step forward anyway.

“Like two sips. Now quit complaining and c’mere.”

There was something about the way he said that, ‘c’mere’, that made my heart stutter a little bit. I shook the thought out of my head quickly, before carefully maneuvering myself inside of the hammock. Really, there wasn’t room for two, especially because Harry immediately nixed my idea that I lay opposite from him.

“I am not having your shoes in my face,” he said, when I brought up the idea.

It took a few minutes, but now we both fit in the hammock, though my body was slightly over his chest and his legs were tangled up in mine.

Platonic. Platonic. Platonic. I kept repeating the word over and over in my head, reminding myself that this little cuddle was strictly platonic and I needed to stop worrying.

And then I reminded myself that I was on an adventure, a one night excursion, and I needed to stop freaking out over stupid things.

Still, I was hoping that no one could see us from the party (they probably totally could) and that I wouldn’t be getting a million and one inquisitive stares tomorrow. Psh. People didn’t need to know my business.

“Your hair smells nice.” He commented after a moment.

“Why thank you.” I smiled. “It’s coconut shampoo.”

“I freaking love coconut.” Harry said.

“Me too! I will probably buy slash eat anything with coconut in it, because it’s delicious.”

“Mmm. Delicious fruit.” Harry agreed, before continuing. “Should we resume our Getting to Know You portion of the night?”

I faked a laborious sigh. “If we must, I suppose.” Though secretly I was kind of excited, because I loved getting to know people. I thought they were exciting, with their little quirks and strange fascinations.

“Things that Make Life Worth Living: go.” He said.

“Fresh croissants.” I replied immediately.

“You really like croissants, don’t you?” He asked with a laugh.

“You have no idea. One of my life goals is to go to France and eat nothing but pastries and cheese and wine. I’m going to gain like fifty pounds and it’s going to be glorious.”

He just continued to laugh. “I’d probably have to say hot tubs make life worth living, and toast that has been properly buttered, and the feeling you get when you go on stage and people are chanting your name.”

“Man,” I said. “That’s deep.”

Harry let out a bit of a laugh. “I suppose so, yes. What about you? What are your others?”

“You mean besides croissants? Because that’s probably numbers one through three. Um. Books. Books are certainly high on my list. Empty museums. Holding hands.”

“Holding hands?” He asked.

I nodded, and tried to ignore the bit where I was practically nodding into his chest. Man, this was so freaking weird.

“I just love holding people’s hands, y’know? Because it can be romantic and it can be platonic. And it’s a universal sign of intimacy. It doesn’t really matter where you’re from or what language you speak, everyone gets what holding hands means.” I explained, feeling a bit silly when I was done, but also kind of proud to be able to articulate my thoughts.

“Damn.” Harry said after a moment, letting out a small whistle. “Talk about some deep shit.”

We both started laughing. “Yeah, it really is. It’s a bit too early to get to the philosophical part of our evening, so I vote we move on to lighter topics.”

“I agree. Lighter topics.” Harry grinned. “Like Top Five Favorite Sex Positions: go.”

I immediately started blushing and laughing, before shaking my head. “Nope. You have not earned that type of information yet.” I protested.

“Earned?” He asked. “You mean my dashing good looks and boyish charm doesn’t immediately grant me all privileges?”

I blinked at him. “No, not at all. I’ll choose the next topic, thanks, like…what should we do after this?”

Harry shrugged. “I know limited parts of San Francisco, meaning I know the airport, the Golden Gate Bridge, and a few venues. That’s it.”

“I think I have a couple ideas.” I admitted. “But we should probably get going, then, because it’s already almost ten.”

“You mean we can’t just spend all night in this hammock? Because it’s pretty damn comfortable.”

With a sigh, I said, “Unfortunately not. Lovely as they are, we have a city to explore.”

Harry let out a bit of a disappointed sigh, but shifted around as if to get up anyway. I carefully moved my legs out of the hammock, standing up slowly as to not mess up the balance too much. We both stood slowly, stretching our limbs.

“Lead the way again, Ms. Tour Guide Extraordinaire.” He said. I nodded, before turning towards the party.

“First stop, getting out of this party alive. Just stay behind me, alright?”

Harry nodded in understanding. I started my way through the crowd, taking on my city walk and striding through that party with a purpose. I felt a tugging on my arm and turned around, but it was only Harry, this time, his hand wrapped around my wrist. And okay, it wasn’t holding hands. It wasn’t a deep affectionate gesture or anything. But it still felt important.