Damn This Wild Young Heart.

And hard to find, they were not. Two blocks later I saw the first flashing lights of a club, the neon arrow and smoky haze leading us in the right direction. Harry was happily idling along next to me, asking more Getting to Know You questions while I pondered the repercussions of the Instagram picture. I had faith in the internet; they’d figure out who I was in probably a couple of hours, if that, and then for about fifteen minutes there’d probably be a bit of a shit storm on all of my social media networks.

“They’ve a show at 12.” Harry’s voice broke through my introspective haze. He had stopped in front of the club and nodded his head towards the sign that did, in fact, inform of us the show at 12.

“You really want to go in?”

“’When in Rome, do as the Romans do’, right?” He quoted. “Well, when in San Francisco, apparently that means see some drag, so let’s do it.”

“This is going to be an eye opening experience for you,” I reassured him as I stepped through the door of the club and into a dimly lit hallway, where there was a small line at the ticket booth. “Completely life changing. Your entire life philosophy will change.”

“You’re really hyping this up,” he pointed out as we inched forward in the line. “I feel like there should be some repercussions if you’re wrong.”

“Repercussions?” I repeated. “You mean gifts of gratitude, right? Because this is going to be the best thing you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Lola.” He warned. “I take these things very seriously.”

I rolled my eyes and was about to respond, but the person in front of us finished paying at we were at the ticket booth.

“For two, please.” Harry stepped up to the window before I could get a word in, sliding his credit card through the little slot while I was still reaching into my bag.

I grumbled at him as he reached forward and took his card back, sliding it back into his wallet and giving me a ticket. I only rolled my eyes as he sent me a grin, before guiding me along the hallway as we entered the large room, tables and chairs set around a small stage. The lights were dim and colorful, the blues and the purples brightening up the front of the room. After we showed the bouncer our IDs, we went to take a seat. Harry tried to steer us to the back of the room, but I took a firm stand against that.

“Oh, no, no, no,” I shook my head at him, grabbing at his arm and leading us to one of the front tables on the left.

I wanted nothing more than for Harry to be grinded on by a drag queen, because I truly believed that would bring me eternal happiness.

“Lola, I really don’t want to bring more attention to myself,” Harry protested when I tried to make him sit down.

I waved him off. “Oh, get off it. You’re really not as popular as you think you are. No one’s even staring.”

Which was the truth, in all honestly, because the lights were dimming and the music fading out, meaning that our show was going to start. Harry had no choice but to sit down, begrudgingly taking a seat next to me.

There were a few seconds of silence, before the opening notes of a very familiar song began and performers started emerging on stage.

I turned to Harry, my eyes wide, as we took in the scantily clad bodies, glittery eye shadow, and high heels. And then they started singing.

“You’re insecure, don’t know what for--,”

I think it took probably two seconds before my sides split from laughter. No sound was coming out of my body as I shook, hand covering my face as my eyes moved frantically from Harry to the drag queens. Harry. Drag queens. Drag queens. Harry. His eyes were wide and a blush was already starting to build up on his cheeks, but he was laughing.

“You little--,” he started.

I shook my head frantically, struggling to get the words out between my chortles. “I didn’t—know—oh my—I swear I—I didn’t--,” I was gasping for breath as I shook, the drag queens continuing on with their routine, making the slightly empowering (though as a strong independent woman of the twenty first century, I did not need five sets of male reassurance to make me feel good about myself, thank you very much) and upbeat pop song into something definitely raunchier.

“You don’t know you’re beautiful!” They yelled (or growled), before thrusting in the air and twirling along one of the poles.

It was probably the best three minutes of my life, to be honest. It would’ve been amazing if they weren’t singing a One Direction song, because the glitter! And the heels! And the crotch grabbing and blatant sexual references! But I was sitting next to Harry as (who I had just deemed) my new favorite drag queen ever did a spin and belted out the ending of the song, cascading curls swinging dramatically. Tears were streaming down my face and it was taking a lot of effort to control myself at all.

“That is--,” I gasped. “—the best thing—I have ever—seen--,”

Harry was laughing along with me, a wide smile splitting across his entire face. A few people were looking over at us now, as the singing had quieted down and Harry and I were quite obviously still in fits over the entire thing.

“Thank you, thank you,” the lovely dream of blonde curls called out. “You’re all fab. That’s just a little peek of something we’re making called Drag Direction, a compilation of One Direction songs turned oh so naughty, because who can resist those scrumptious British boys and their delicious butts? I know I can’t.”

My laughter had finally started to subside only to be provoked again, my eyeballs bulging out of my head as I turned towards Harry. He was blushing even harder now, the red spreading from his cheeks to his neck.

“And to continue on with that…” he trailed off, just as the music for “Kiss You” started, except as we realized a few seconds into the song, it was no longer kissing they wanted, but rather something much raunchier. (All I’m going to say is that when a drag queen says, “And let me blow you!” and then also provides some very graphic hand motions and mouth accompaniment, it quickly becomes the greatest moment of your entire adult life thus far.)

And that’s how the next five minutes went, in stitches because how serendipitous was our adventure that we probably found the one drag show in San Francisco that was singing One Direction, because apparently now drag queens SING ONE DIRECTION. There was gyrating, there was pole dancing, there was sashaying and dance moves and feather boas.

“This is brilliant,” I told Harry at the end of the song, my breathing still labored from over exulting myself with laughter.

“My life has been changed forever.” He breathed out. “This is officially in the top five best things I’ve ever done.”

“They deserve a thank you card.” I said.

Harry could only nod, his hand going up to swipe his hair out of his eyes. I think I’d seen him do that a few times, in commercials and interviews and when they were on Ellen, but right then, when he ran his fingers through his fringe and let out a sigh of laughter, my heart started to constrict.

Which was bad. So, so, so, so, so bad.

So I again focused on the drag queens.

“Well, well, well,” Amber Alert, one of the other hosts, sang. “Seems we have a treat. One of my lovely desk boys says we have a celebrity in the house tonight.”

My eyes widened, looking around frantically. Harry seemed to sink into his seat, shoulders slumping. He looked over at me, a grimace on his face.

“Are you okay?” I mouthed to him.

He did a little half shrug, but refused to comment. The spotlight that was on Amber Alert searched around the room.

“Harry Styles, have you really come to confess your undying love to me?”

I turned to Harry, ready to somehow communicate with him that we could leave right now, find some strange back door that probably leads to an even sketchier alley and make a run for it, but he was already sitting up in his seat, another smile on his face.

“Of course I have,” he called up to the stage. “I couldn’t wait a minute longer!”

It took a few seconds for the spot to focus, but suddenly it was on our table, everyone twisting around to see Harry. He raised his arm in a wave.

“Does this mean the rumors aren’t true, then?” Amber Alert carried along. “Larry doesn’t exist!?”

“You’re the only one for me, love,” Harry cracked back, but I could see the slight blush rise on his cheeks. This kid was a blusher. He seemed comfortable enough under the spotlight, which seemed kind of fitting, considering part of his job description included the entire world looking at him.

“Oh be still my fluttering breast!” Amber joked back, sending Harry a wink. “This one’s for you, Styles.” He called, before the lights dipped back low and a slow, seductive beat crawled through the club. Amber was crooning something incredibly dirty while twisting around in a feather boa, more dancers were emerging on stage, and Harry was staring straight ahead, a smile on his face as he laughed along good naturedly.

The rest of the show went on like that, banter and dancing, until it was well past one and the house lights finally went up. People started gathering their belongings and filtering out.

“Have I fulfilled my promise?” I asked, shrugging on my sweater and turning to Harry, who was still sitting down and fiddling with his phone.

“More than fulfilled, I reckon.” He replied. “You’ve set the standards too high. Nothing else we do tonight can top this.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” I chastised. “We’ll figure out something.”

“What do you want to--,” I started, but stopped as a small group of guys approached our table.

“Harry Styles?” One of them asked. Harry looked up from his phone immediately, pushing it back in his pocket as he stood up.

“Would you mind signing this?” Someone asked, and then suddenly I was actually realizing that I was hanging out with Harry Styles of One Direction, Mr. Celebrity, because he was signing phones and posing for pictures, smiling and laughing. As each group left, another swarm of people came forward, from men to middle aged women to a few drag queens.

He’d been signing for ten minutes when someone ambled up to me.

“Your boy’s a bit of a hot commodity.” Amber Alert was still dressed in full drag, though looking slightly less intimidating without the feather boa and the lights.

“It’s not his fault he’s so damn cute.” I joked. “They just can’t get enough.”

“He is one scrumptious man morsel.” Amber agreed. “What I wouldn’t do to that boy, mmm.” He hummed, licking his lips appreciatively.

I let out a loud laugh, shaking my head at his directness.

“How did you guys end up here? Did the word of our Drag Direction finally reach to new heights?”

“It was actually kind of an accident?” I explained. “I promised Harry a drag show and this was the first one we found. We had no idea, and then the first notes of What Makes You Beautiful started and it was probably the best moment in my life.”

“Of all the gin joints in the world…” Amber Alert started and I just laughed again.

“It was a pretty great coincidence. I’m showing Harry around San Francisco and I was trying to think of something quintessentially San Francisco. I knew he had to see Castro Street, but then the drag just kind of stemmed from there.” I continued. “And now here we are.”

Just as I finished, Harry finished up calling some woman’s daughter and finally turned to us.

“Ay, mate!” He exclaimed upon seeing Amber. “You did a brilliant job!”

They exchanged pleasantries, Harry carrying on about how brilliant the show was and Amber making Harry blush as he hit on him.

“Can I get a picture?” Harry asked, pulling out his phone and going to his camera setting.

“Should I be the one asking you that?” Amber laughed, but obliged anyway, maneuvering to Harry’s side.

I went to take Harry’s phone, my hand reaching for the device before he abruptly smacked it away.

“You’re going to be in this picture too.” He stated, before very politely asking someone sitting at the next table over if they would be willing to take a picture for him.

I rolled my eyes at Harry, but didn’t protest much after that. I moved to Amber’s other side, wrapping my arm around his waist. I was dwarfed next to his 6’4” in heels frame, my head coming up to about his shoulders.

“Say ‘drag queen’ on the count of three,” the bloke holding Harry’s phone joked, before counting off.

“Drag queen!” We exclaimed, turning the word into smiles as the camera flashed.

“Where are you off to after this?” Amber questioned, reaching up to readjust one of the large false eyelashes he had on.

“I don’t really know yet,” I admitted. “Most of the places I would normally take him are closed.”

“Are you really going to let that stop you?” Amber challenged, looking down at me like I was missing something.

“Um, yeah?” I raised my eyebrows in question. “Even if the hours didn’t, I’m pretty sure the security guards would.”

“Honey,” Amber started. “You’re with a celebrity. Get creative.” He encouraged, before he turned to Harry, gave him one last cheeky smile, and announced that he needed to get ready for the next late night show.

“Where are we going next?” Harry asked as we excited the club, but he wasn’t exactly looking at me, more like staring at his phone as he fiddled around with it.

“What’s your favorite place in the world?” I asked suddenly, turning to him. We were stopped on a spot of sidewalk outside of the club, but it wasn’t terribly crowded.

“My family’s house in Holmes-Chapel.” He answered automatically. “No one actually lives in it anymore, but I go up there sometimes when I have a few days off.”

“Okay.” I said, but it was more for me than it was for him, some type of reassurance, because Harry just told me something somewhat personal about himself and I wanted to share something in the same way.

If we didn’t have time constraints and it wasn’t a little after one in the morning and I was giving Harry Styles a guided tour around San Francisco, there was one place that I would automatically go first, my very own favorite place in the world.

“Okay.” I repeated. “Then I think I know where we’re going to go next, even though it’s a bit of a journey.”

Harry didn’t look daunted by the task ahead of him, rather just giving me a bit of a smile and a nod.

It was a bit of a journey if we decided to take the Muni, but I decided to take the more luxurious route and made Harry call a cab company, giving them our street address.

“Is this our next destination?” Harry teased, after I directed him down the street to duck into a 24 hour CVS.

I gave him a bit of a shove. “No, this is just where we’re going to wait until our cab comes.”

“Where are we going, then?” He wondered, as we moved deeper into the store. I bee-lined for the drinks, because I needed another jolt of caffeine if I was going to finish this night out properly.

“It’s a surprise.”

“It’s not like I’ll likely know what it is.” He protested, meandering down the aisles after me and grabbing a few packages of candy along the way.

“I’m still not telling you.”

“Fine. What’s your favorite place in the world? Since you didn’t answer earlier.”

“I’m not telling you that either.” I supplied, finally reaching the drinks and pulling out some type of iced coffee thing. “Want one?” I offered to Harry. He shook his head and grabbed a water.

“Are you going to supply me with any information, then?” He bugged.

“I had fun tonight.” I said, giving him a big smile.

He ignored that and agreed. “I’ve been having fun since I ran into an ice cream shop a few hours ago.”

“Aren’t you glad that you were chased into the right direction?” I nudged him.

He opened his mouth to say something (probably negative) about my jokes, but his phone dinged. “Cab’s here.”

A few minutes later we slid into the backseat of the cab, plastic CVS bags of snacks sitting at our feet.

“Where to?” The cab driver asked.

“151 3rd Street, please.”