We'll Be a Dream

Part of me wishes that I'd had time to go home and change out of my red Nonna's Pizzeria t-shirt, dark in spots from dishwater. That I'd bothered to do something more with my hair than this off-center messy bun, with frizzy and escaped strands. I wish I had bothered to glance in a mirror, to touch up my mascara and eyeliner. Another part of me doesn't care, because this is the only way Harry has ever seen me and the only way he was ever supposed to see me.

The doorman waves me through without any fuss. His name is Earl. He's a worrier. Each time I've left the building he's tried to talk me into taking a cab. Insisting that he'd pay. He doesn't think that a pretty young girl like myself should be out this late.

"I've had to call the authorities on some real creeps in my time as a doorman." He'd say severely, staring intently at me. I'd smile back and tell him not to worry about me. He'd respond by telling me to be careful and then he'd watch me ride away from the door until he couldn't see me anymore.

It's a sweet gesture, but it feels hollow. Of course this older Caucasian man would be concerned for a young, pretty, white girl riding around NYC after dark. It would be a widely reported tragedy if I were to get shot. Just because of my milky complexion. I blink away these thoughts. It's unfair to make these kinds of assumptions about Earl. Innocent until proven guilty. He could be this concerned about all young women.

Jacob, the elevator attendant, has trouble keeping a straight face when he sees that I'm the one waiting in the lobby for the elevator. The corners of his lips twitch sporadically as I step in beside him. His white gloved hand, standing out in stark contrast with his inherently darker skin, presses the button for the floor he already knows I'm going to. The doors move in to meet slowly, and only when they close does he allow himself to smirk.

"Those boys sure do like your pizza." He comments. It's meant to sound like an off-hand remark, but there is too much meaning in his inflection.

"Nonna's makes the best pizza in New York City," I respond automatically. This is a fact that I have always known. That the pizza is the best in the whole city. It could be plausible that they do just really enjoy the pizza, and that everyone--including myself--has come to the wrong conclusion about this whole situation.

Except that he keeps asking for me. So I must be a factor.

The elevator glides to a stop and the doors open. I pause, one foot in the elevator and one on the shining wood flooring of the hallway, and look back at Jacob knowing that this could be our last time ascending to the twenty-fifth floor together.

"Thank you," is all I manage to say. He nods in acknowledgement and then the doors have closed, cutting us off from each other. The gears hum softly as he descends to the lobby. Now that I'm faced with the reality of the situation, I'm at a loss for what I'll say. I swallow hard and knock on the door, my stomach churning with nerves. The once quiet apartment is alive with thudding, muffled voices and the silence again before Harry opens the door, his smile bright, dimples on display.

"Hello," he greets. It is a low exhale and my mind goes momentarily blank at how pleasant the sound is. I kick myself back into action by pulling open the pizza carrier and presenting the lone large pizza with a practiced flourish that comes naturally to anyone who has been serving pizzas for six years.

"Baked Potato pizza, on the house." Harry accepts the box of pizza and our fingers don't brush. He looks down at the logo for Nonna's Pizzeria, a red outline of the young woman holding a steaming pizza on a white box, and half-smiles at her.

"Is this some sort of buy a certain amount, get one free deal?" In the joking lilt of his voice, there is genuine curiosity.

"Actually, it's kind of an apology? My boss has put like, a ban on delivering to you?" I clear my throat, trying to push aside my uncertainty. "The thing is that she's a mother. And she's kind of suspicious about you. Because you're this guy who never comes into Nonna's and you kind of give ridiculously large tips, which I actually never noticed until she pointed it out. And you keep asking for me, and I'm like a surrogate daughter to her..."

Harry's eyebrows have arched, his eyes widened and his jaw gone slightly slack. I squeeze my bottom lip between my teeth and tug once, feeling self-conscious. I release my lip, roll my shoulders back and lift my chin defiantly. In a moment of insane bravery, I speak my mind.

"So if you've been trying to ask me out or get to know me outside of work, this would be the moment to make a move." Harry and I both take a surprised half-step to the side when the door is pulled wide open, revealing three smiling boys.

"Don't be rude, H, invite her in," one says, jostling Harry with his elbow. At the same time another one--Louis?--is reaching over to ruffle Harry's already wild curls. Blonde, Irish and grinning, Niall is the one to pull me over the threshold by my hand and into his chest for a tight hug.

"Bixby," honestly, I'm surprised that he managed to remember my name. "So good to see you again."

"What he's really saying is more like 'thank god you're here I need pizza' right Niall?" The voice is high and familiar. I turn my head and I'd had it right, it was Louis who had ruffled Harry's hair, not that it did any damage.

"Well, that too, but I really am chuffed to see you, Bixby." Niall gives me one final squeeze before I'm released. The other brown-haired boy--Liam, I think--is shutting the door behind me and Harry is still holding the only pizza. I suddenly feel very inconsiderate. Baked Potato pizza is very filling, but I don't know if one large will be enough to satisfy four guys.

"We were just about to start a film, would you like to join us?" This boy has brown eyes and the most adorable face I've ever seen and, as I work in a customer service capacity, I have seen a lot of faces.

"If that's not too much of an intrusion." The boy smiles, and it is such a sincere action, so genuine and warm. He's a rare soul that smiles with his eyes and his mouth. He offers me his hand.

"I'm Liam and it's nice to finally put a face to the name." I shake his hand in a daze.

"You've heard about me?" Liam's cheeks darken slightly and an arm is being thrown across my shoulders and guiding me toward the living room. I am momentarily thrown by the richness of the decor, the vastness of the room and how clean everything is.

"Of course we have, Niall never shuts up about Nonna's Pizzeria." It's Louis who is guiding me to the cream coloured sectional sofa. He gently pushes me so that I fall back into the plump cushions. Everything in this room looks bright and new--the walls are beige with swirling golden designs, clearly a wallpaper, the floor is a dark hardwood except for where there is a deep blue rug. To my right is the dining room with a large mahogany table that could comfortably seat eight. It's the kind of table that reminds me of trips to cousin Vinny's estate.

The coffee table in front of me has three bottles of water sitting on coasters. Harry places the box of pizza in the center and flips open the top to reveal one of Nonna G's most talked about creations. Baked Potato Pizza tastes how it sounds--like a baked potato with the works. It's the closest thing to a deep dish pizza that we have and requires two hands to support the weight of the toppings. There is light pizza sauce sprinkled with mozzarella and on top of that are cube sized pieces of baked potato. After that has cooked in the oven, Nonna G adds cheddar cheese, a generous amount of sour cream, sizeable bacon bits and green onions.

"What's that?" I have been so engrossed in my surroundings, in my pizza porn, that I have failed to notice that Isabella's celebrity crush is sitting next to me on the couch. Zayn Malik pockets his phone and leans toward the pizza with caution.

"Baked Potato pizza, one of Nonna's most talked about dishes." And like that, I feel calm and composed.

"Bixby," Liam calls from where I assume the kitchen is. "Would you like something to drink?"

Harry rounds the corner from where the voice was speaking, carrying a pile of plates. Louis follows him with some paper towels.

"Oh, don't offer Zayn anything to drink, though." He calls to Liam sarcastically.

"Water, please." I call, trying my best to project my voice. I've always been somewhat of a quiet speaker, most of my jokes go unheard unless a person, like Giovanna, knows to listen for them. I accept the glass plate from Harry and a paper towel from Louis. "Also you may want to use two hands for this pizza. The toppings are heavy!" But my warning is too late for hungry Niall, who has lost a good portion of sour cream, bacon and potatoes from the slice of pizza he was picking up. I cringe and bite my lip before demonstrating for everyone, including Liam who has managed to carry five glasses of water into the room, how to pick up a slice of Baked Potato Pizza.

Harry is sitting on his own in the only armchair in the room, Niall and Louis are seated on one side of the sectional while Zayn, Liam and I sit on the other. The silence while we eat is only broken by Niall, who cannot stop raving about how good the pizza is. Something, Louis informs me, that happens every time Niall eats Nonna's pizza.

"Well, you're just going to have to come into the pizzeria if you want any of Nonna's pizzas. The manager has put a ban on deliveries to this address."

"We heard," Liam says cryptically and all the boys give Harry a pointed look. This doesn't faze him in the slightest, his shoulders are up by his ears and his head is ducked over his plate.

"So, um, what film were you guys going to watch?" I ask, gesturing with my chin to the flat screen mounted on the wall, when the silence lingers uncomfortably.

"You guys have fun with that, I've got to call my girlfriend," Zayn jumps in quickly after I've spoken, pushing off from the couch. He turns to face me after he is standing and offers me a small smile. "It was lovely to meet you, Bixby."

"You know, I should probably call mine as well." Louis stands and gives my shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he passes by. "Don't have too much fun without us."

"So..." I start, but Liam cuts me off.

"Bixby, did you know that there's a garden on the roof?"

"Uh, I guess I know that now." Liam snaps his finger and points from me to Harry.

"Harry, you should show Bixby the garden." I turn my head and smother my smile in my shoulder, because for all the publicity they've done, these boys aren't very good at the art of subtlety.

"Only if she wants to, mate. Maybe she's allergic to flowers." I turn my face away from my shoulder and smile charmingly at Harry, who is staring intently at Liam.

"Nope, not allergic to anything and believe it or not, I've never had the opportunity to see a rooftop garden. There's no way I'm going to let this one pass me by. If that's alright with you, Harry."

"S'fine, I'm just going to get blankets or something in case it's cold out." Harry disappears into an upper level that I didn't notice upon entering.

"This place has two floors?" I wish I could take the question back, because obviously there is a second floor.

"Three floors, actually. We've got a pretty wicked game room upstairs."

"I guess you would need that much space with five boys living here..." I let the comment trail off again, because this conversation is dead on arrival. I should just shut up.

"It's hardly ever just us here," Liam refutes. "We've got a lot of people who stay. Kind of like Direction-sitters to make sure we don't get ourselves into too much trouble."

And for the first time I see Liam as the kind of boy who is trouble. It's in the smirk that twists his lips, the look in his eye that says he's up to something. Liam Payne could play both the angel and the devil on your shoulder if he wanted to.

"They really wouldn't be happy if they knew how much pizza we've eaten since we got here." Niall adds after swallowing. "We've had to bribe the elevator attendant to dispose of the boxes for us before anyone can find them."

"Technically speaking, this pizza was supposed to be for my mother. On top of that, I'm still on the clock."

"You can do that? Just leave and not come back, I mean." Liam looks mildly stunned and I shrug my shoulders.

"It's a family run business. There aren't very many strict rules at Nonna's Pizzeria. Half the time I'm not even supposed to be working there, but it's the kind of place that you want to go to. You guys should really stop by sometime. Nonna's has been described as dinner and a show by some of our regulars. One time, Nonna chased one of her granddaughter's boyfriends out of the store with a ladle."

"My god, how old was she at the time?" I jump and turn around to see Harry descending the last of the stairs, a sweatshirt and a blanket folded over his arm.

"Um, her late fifties. Italian women never look their age. Ready to go?" I ask, because part of me really just wants to be alone with this attractive boy. The other part of me wants to watch a movie and eat pizza with Niall and Liam, but I won't get any answers if I do that.

"Yeah, let's go." I announce to everyone in the room that I am going to be leaving my pizza carrier behind and then I follow Harry out. Okay, not technically follow because he held open the door so I could go through first, but after that he took the lead by pressing the call button for the elevator. I could tell that Jacob was trying not to smirk, that he was giving me subtle looks. The elevator ride was stuffy.

I discover that the elevator doesn't go up to the roof and that we have to walk up two flights of stairs. The door says that no one is supposed to be on the roof after 11p.m. out of courtesy for the tenants in the penthouse suite. Harry and I both ignore the sign and the time.

The roof is dimly lit with the light from the surrounding buildings. Strands of lights hang from support beams, though they are not currently alight. The perimeter has nicely trimmed hedges that reach my hips and a black guardrail with intricate designs that reaches up to my waist. Padded benches bolted to the roof are to one side, while the other side of the roof is occupied by lounge chairs. In the middle area are tables and chairs with the same intricate and gothic looking designs as the railings.

And there is greenery everywhere. Different flowers, all varying colours and shapes. Gardening isn't exactly my area of expertise, but I can appreciate their beauty and the aroma that lingers on this roof.

I gravitate to the lounge chairs, picking one that is light in colour and curl onto my side with my hands pressed palm to palm to pillow my cheek. I smile over at Harry, who is still standing by the door looking around. He eventually drags a potted plant to hold the door open, dropping the bundle of fabric in his arms during the process. He then turns to another door, one I hadn't noticed earlier, and gives it a tug, but it remains shut. He shrugs off this realization and looks back to me. I give him my best mock come hither look and gesture slowly with my index finger for him to join me.

He sits on the edge of the lounge chair in front of me, setting the mess of fabric next to him.

"Hi," I say, feeling suddenly shy. He gives me a charming grin, full of straight white teeth and darling dimples.

"Hi," he replies. He reclines in the chair, his hands behind his head acting as a pillow. "So, are you in school?" He tilts his head to the side to see my reaction to his question. I press my thumb against my lips to stifle the laughter, because it sounds like such a great-uncle at the family reunion question to ask.

"Nope, not going to school right now."

"Same," and my laughter is a gunshot in the silence, loud and unexpected. Soon Harry is chuckling along with me. The moment passes and my breathing is coming out normally before he says anything else. "What do you think you'll study when you do go to school? I mean, if that's something you think you're going to do."

I roll onto my back and look up at the sky. There aren't any stars that we can see, but there are some thin clouds drifting lazily overhead, somehow looking lighter than the darkening sky.

"I don't know, I haven't thought too much about it. My best friend Giovanna is saving up to go to like a beauty school. She wants to be a beautician, I guess. She really likes doing nails and makeup and she's really good at it. Her older sister, Isabella, is starting college in fall for graphic design and marketing. Rosa, their oldest sister, is getting her certificate in business administration at the end of August.

"Rosa's really smart. There's a high demand for administrative assistants, and they make some good money. So she's going to work administration for a few years and save up so she can go to school to become a nurse. Giovanna's brother Fabian wants to be a professional soccer--I guess you'd call it football--player. He got a full scholarship for soccer and if playing professionally doesn't work out he's working towards getting some sort of degree in coaching. Leo, Giovanna's oldest brother, is getting a degree in teaching. He's really patient and kind. He'll be a great teacher. I kind of wish I'd had a teacher like him when I was going to school." I turn over again so that I am facing Harry. He is looking at me in a way that I've never been look at before. Like every word I say is vital. Like there is nothing more important than this one-sided conversation about people he's never met and likely never will meet.

My face heats under the intensity of his stare. I turn my head toward the sky again and begin to twist and fidget with my hands on my stomach.

"But I haven't decided what I want to do yet. I might follow in Rosa's footsteps and just get a certificate in administration so I can make more money and decide later. But right now I just really like where I am, working at Nonna's. Some people might look down on it, but it's my favourite place in the city. There's this quote out there that basically says that if you love what you do you'll never work a day in your life. Honestly, half the time I'm working at Nonna's for free, because I've already racked up my forty hours. It's just a good place to be."

I bite my lip and groan quietly.

"I'm so sorry, I don't usually talk this much, I swear." And I don't. The majority of what I say are rehearsed and reused lines for work, and sometimes it's difficult to get a word in once Giovanna gets started. I can talk to Nonna, I suppose, but she doesn't always understand. Leo and I have the same kind of conversations whenever I see him and Fabian and I spit one liners at each other. Isabella and I have nothing in common to talk about, Rosa and I mostly work in silence. There is only so much that you can say to your friends' parents, no matter how much they welcome you into their lives.

"S'okay, I like listening to you talk. You've a lovely accent."

"I bet you say that to all the American girls. And the same could be said for your accent. But seriously, I feel like I just spent twenty minutes talking non-stop. Please, tell me something about yourself."

"What's there to say that you can't Google for yourself?" He sounds so tired when he says this. So resigned to this fact. And he is probably right. I could probably find out his favourite colour, movie and band on a fan site. I could find his origin story. I could find his dating history (I already know about Taylor Swift, Giovanna called me from the park and said she saw them holding hands) and even the names of his relatives.

I could know things about him, but that's not the same as knowing him.

"So you'd rather I Google information about you than ask you for myself?" I see him shrug out of the corner of my eye and turn to face him.

"That's a little silly, Harry. Like, people change all the time. Maybe not who they are, but the things they like change for a variety reasons, like they find something they like better or they start to prefer their second favourite type of pizza. We all meet people and do things and it alters us in small, but meaningful ways. I could Google you and everything could be wrong. You're a different person than you were when you were eighteen. Maybe you don't notice it much, but to someone else you could be totally changed. Besides, you can't believe everything you read online."

Harry is sitting up and looking at me differently now, as if I've pulled a layer back and shown him something in me that he'd lost a long time ago, something he'd nearly forgotten still existed in people. I give him a small, unsure smile.

He smiles shyly back. He glances over his shoulder and when he looks back, the moment between us is over.

"I've been wanting to ask you for ages now, and I hope you don't mind, but where on earth did your parents come up with your name?" I groan and roll onto my back, hiding my face behind my hands. I rest them back on my stomach and give him a wan smile.

"Ugh! Okay, first of all I give you full permission to laugh at this. Seriously, it's funny. Don't try to spare my feelings. So, okay, my mom named me after her childhood pet. A poodle named Bixby. Her name was supposed to be Dixie, like that famous dog, I guess. But there was a typo on her dog tag so she became Bixby."

"Your mum must have really loved that dog." And then Harry is cracking up, clapping his hands and falling down onto the lounge chair, eyes squinted from the wide grin. I roll back onto my side to watch him and can't help but to smile and giggle a bit at his amusement.

"I don't mind being named after a dog. It's the fact that it was a poodle that really cuts me." I say when he has calmed down. Harry shuffles down on his lounge chair so he is laying on his side facing me. Despite the distance between our chairs, I feel close to him.

"What about your middle name?" His voice is soft, and I know that he feels the same way I do. There is something about the night, lying on your side facing someone, that gives it a clandestine quality.

"Jane, after my grandma Jane on my dad's side. What's yours?" My voice is a whisper, my body relaxing down into the chair. The temperature is not quite cold yet, unless a breeze comes by. I tuck my knees close to my body and pull my arms up toward my chest and face.

"Edward."

"Ah, do you get many Twilight jokes?" Harry grins and shakes his head the best he can.

And that's how our night goes, I do most of the talking and he listens. In between topics there is a comfortable silence where I nearly fall asleep. When I start to shiver, Harry gets up and drapes the blanket on top of me, tucking the edges under me so the wind can't get in. He must have been sitting on it, because it is warm and smells comfortingly like boy. He pulls the sweater over his head, ruffling his hair with one hand afterward and there is a beat where he stands between our chairs looking down at me.

I wish I had the courage to ask him to lay with me.

He lays back on his chair and we smile at each other. It feels like an apology. We don't speak again, until Harry is shaking me awake and telling me that it's almost five in the morning. His voice is thick and slow with sleep. I stumble downstairs with the blanket draped over my shoulders and rest my head on his muscular back while we wait for the elevator.

Neither of us has enough energy to speak.

When we get back to his suite, Niall and Liam are asleep on the sectional. Liam wakes up when the door falls shut and he blearily asks if I need him to call me a cab. I nod and lean against the wall. Tired isn't strong enough of a word to describe how I feel in this moment.

It's Harry who calls the front desk to order a cab. He also steers me to the couch and pushes me down on it. He disappears into the kitchen and I discover the Liam's shoulder is as comfortable as Harry's was. Liam gently rests his head against mine and I sigh, because he also smells lovely. I force my eyes open and see Harry leaning casually against the wall, a bottle of water pressed to his bottom lip. He catches me watching and tilts the bottle back.

Drinking water has never looked so hot.

It doesn't take long for the front desk to call up and tell us that my cab's there. Liam forces me to take some money for the cab, Niall mumbles in his sleep and when I try to give Harry back his blanket I start shaking.

"Jus' keep it." Liam hands me the pizza carrier and I pause in the doorway, looking back at Harry, waiting for something to happen. He looks back at me and gives me that special smile from before, the one that says he's found something in me that he didn't think existed anymore.

I mumble goodbye and leave. If I weren't so drained, I'd probably feel embarrassed or disappointed.

At this hour there isn't an elevator attendant, but there is still a doorman, though it's not Earl. This doorman and the taxi driver help me load my bike into the mustard coloured vehicle. I know when we turn onto my block that Liam has given me way too much cab fare. I hope when I wake up tomorrow that I remember to return some of it.

Carrying my bike up the stairs feels like it will kill me, but I manage to make it into my apartment a little bit before six in the morning. The sky outside is just starting to brighten. I lock the door behind me, all five locks, and leave the bike in the hall against the wall, too tired to lift it into the rack one of my mom's boyfriend's installed for us.

"Bixby, is that you? If it's not, you should know that I was a champion softball player in high school and college." I sigh, and move forward, past what passes for a kitchen, and into the open concept dining room and living room. My mother is sitting at our tiny dining table with her laptop aglow in front of her, the screen reflecting off of the lenses of her Ray Bans.

"How was your date?" I ask her, falling into the chair across from her. She hasn't bothered to remove any of her makeup, though her red lipstick has faded and her black eyeliner has smudged a little under her eye. Despite this she still looks beautiful. She's taken the time to change into her pyjamas, which in the summer consists of men's boxers and a silk camisole.

"You can read all about it on my blog." I roll my eyes, and she throws a pen cap at me. "How was your night? I assume you weren't with Giovanna, seeing as you wouldn't have bothered to come home at all if you were." I shrug, but she's looking back at the screen, her manicured fingers clacking over the keys rhythmically.

"Well, I hope he was cute at least. You got plans tonight?"

"Giovanna's got a date, so I'm covering for her until closing." I roll the pen cap between my fingers.

"Well, I may be bringing someone back to the apartment. It's still up in the air right now, but I'll text you and let you know." I use the table to push myself up, it shifts from side to side under my weight which catches my mother's attention.

"Noted. I'm going to get some sleep."

I end up sitting on the fire escape outside of my window, wrapped up in the blanket Harry gave me, watching the sky get lighter for an hour. I finally crawl into bed around seven in the morning, using Harry's blanket as a sort of teddy bear.