For Fair Love
nineteen
I press the small wrinkle at the bottom of my skirt. Lights flash ever so often through the big glass windows. I keep my eyes on the silky fabric. I’m still not used to wearing skirt… at least not this short. If my Grans saw me wearing this flimsy skirt, she’d have a fit. It’s not wind resistant at all. I press the wrinkle harder. More lights flash.
“ Chas.”
His deep voice wakes me up. I lift my head, meeting his bright eyes.
“You seem out of it. Do you hate being in L.A that much? Or is it me you don’t like,” Harry interrogates me, across the round table. Right, we’re supposed to be having a date at a five star restaurant.
“What? No, I’m fine,” I try to say.
Harry picks his fork at his half empty plate, which reminds me that I haven’t touched mine. My extravagant ravioli stares at me.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I assure him.
“Then you wouldn’t mind smiling for the cameras, would you?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t smile. I just stare at Harry.
He laughs, though, making his eyes glimmer.
“I’m joking. I’m joking.”
“Right.”
I look down at my food once more.
“Harry, do you mind. I have to go to the loo. “
I don’t wait for him to respond, I just hop off my chair and head to the washroom. My stomach’s turning with anxiety. I find myself trying to choke back tears. I try to regain composure before heading back to the table.
I have the luxury of having my own room in the hotel. After I shower and get acquaint to the extra small nighties, I ring Grans. I tell her my adventures in America, which consist of being chased down by fan girls and paparazzi, eating strange things, and getting stuck in an elevator for a good two minutes. I don’t know if she’s attentively listening or she’s falling asleep. Either way, I feel a little more at ease. I tell her to sleep well. Just as I reach to turn off the hall light, there’s a knock on the door. I pause, as I’m not expecting anyone. The door knocks again. I look around and speed to the kitchen, grabbing a stainless steel pan. The door knocks more loudly. I approach and turn the knob slowly.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
“Who is it?” I ask louder.
There are just knocks. I swing the door open with my pan in arms. It’s just Harry.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, looking at the pan in my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask him in return.
I spot his duffle bag on his shoulder and frown. He pushes past me, walking right inside.
“I’ll be sleeping here.”
“Why?” I ask, exasperated.
“They made the sleeping arrangements.”
“By they, you mean Karen,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, There are only three room, each with two beds,” he explains.
I slouch and groan, “But my room only has one bed. And it’s supposed to be mine.”
“Then I guess you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” he tells me, dropping his sack.
I frown deeper.
“Excuse me? I sleep on the couch back home. I deserve a good night’s rest. Karen already gives me a hard time with my posture…” I argue.
He grins, “I’m the superstar here. I should get a good sleep.”
I pout in frustration. I keep forgetting who he is.
“A-alright. Let me just grab my pillow.”
I trot towards the bedroom, until Harry stops me.
“Chas, I was joking. Of course, I’ll take the couch.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll be watching the tele anyway,” I say, detouring around him to go.
“Chas,” he drags.
“Don’t worry. The couch is big for me, and quite comfy.”
“Why everything I say you take seriously?” he walks behind me.
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re right.”
“Well, I’m not,” he says, “So you can have the bed. It’s yours.”
“No, it’s yours,” I grab my pillow and walk out.
Harry blocks me again.
“Take it.”
“No, no. You take it. You’ll be working early in the morning.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can sleep in the couch.”
I sigh, “It’s no big deal.”
“Then sleep here. I’ll sleep outside,” he demands.
“No, I’ll sleep there. You sleep here.”
“Chas, for God’s sake. Take the bed.”
“I don’t want it. You can have it,” I try slipping by him.
He suddenly yanks me from off the ground, forcing me to squeal. I’m then thrown on the bed.
“Sleep!” Harry yells.
“No!” I fight to get out the bed, annoyed. “You sleep!”
“Why do you make everything so difficult?” he asks, rolling me in the icy sheets.
“You’re the difficult one here!” I kick the sheets off.
“It’s simple! You sleep here and I sleep on the couch!”
“You said you wanted the bed! So sleep in it!” I push.
“I was kidding!” he wrestles.
He pins me down and I exhale all the air from my lungs, feeling a hundred times more exhausted. I feel his sigh on my nose.
“No you weren’t,” I say in a quiet tone.
“I was,” he sighs again.
My eyelids get droopy. I blink lazily, making Harry disappear and reappear from my vision. I watch him yawn, collapsing next to me. His weight makes me sink closer to him.
“We’ll both sleep here. Problem solved,” he tells me.
I yawn too.
“I can’t sleep here,” I say.
“And why not?” he asks, his voice now groggy.
I whisper, “I don’t really like you very much.”
I listen to his chuckles… then his breathing. I fall asleep.
“ Chas.”
His deep voice wakes me up. I lift my head, meeting his bright eyes.
“You seem out of it. Do you hate being in L.A that much? Or is it me you don’t like,” Harry interrogates me, across the round table. Right, we’re supposed to be having a date at a five star restaurant.
“What? No, I’m fine,” I try to say.
Harry picks his fork at his half empty plate, which reminds me that I haven’t touched mine. My extravagant ravioli stares at me.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah,” I assure him.
“Then you wouldn’t mind smiling for the cameras, would you?”
I don’t say anything. I don’t smile. I just stare at Harry.
He laughs, though, making his eyes glimmer.
“I’m joking. I’m joking.”
“Right.”
I look down at my food once more.
“Harry, do you mind. I have to go to the loo. “
I don’t wait for him to respond, I just hop off my chair and head to the washroom. My stomach’s turning with anxiety. I find myself trying to choke back tears. I try to regain composure before heading back to the table.
I have the luxury of having my own room in the hotel. After I shower and get acquaint to the extra small nighties, I ring Grans. I tell her my adventures in America, which consist of being chased down by fan girls and paparazzi, eating strange things, and getting stuck in an elevator for a good two minutes. I don’t know if she’s attentively listening or she’s falling asleep. Either way, I feel a little more at ease. I tell her to sleep well. Just as I reach to turn off the hall light, there’s a knock on the door. I pause, as I’m not expecting anyone. The door knocks again. I look around and speed to the kitchen, grabbing a stainless steel pan. The door knocks more loudly. I approach and turn the knob slowly.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
“Who is it?” I ask louder.
There are just knocks. I swing the door open with my pan in arms. It’s just Harry.
“What are you doing?” he asks me, looking at the pan in my hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask him in return.
I spot his duffle bag on his shoulder and frown. He pushes past me, walking right inside.
“I’ll be sleeping here.”
“Why?” I ask, exasperated.
“They made the sleeping arrangements.”
“By they, you mean Karen,” I mumble, rolling my eyes.
“Yeah, There are only three room, each with two beds,” he explains.
I slouch and groan, “But my room only has one bed. And it’s supposed to be mine.”
“Then I guess you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” he tells me, dropping his sack.
I frown deeper.
“Excuse me? I sleep on the couch back home. I deserve a good night’s rest. Karen already gives me a hard time with my posture…” I argue.
He grins, “I’m the superstar here. I should get a good sleep.”
I pout in frustration. I keep forgetting who he is.
“A-alright. Let me just grab my pillow.”
I trot towards the bedroom, until Harry stops me.
“Chas, I was joking. Of course, I’ll take the couch.”
I shake my head.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll be watching the tele anyway,” I say, detouring around him to go.
“Chas,” he drags.
“Don’t worry. The couch is big for me, and quite comfy.”
“Why everything I say you take seriously?” he walks behind me.
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re right.”
“Well, I’m not,” he says, “So you can have the bed. It’s yours.”
“No, it’s yours,” I grab my pillow and walk out.
Harry blocks me again.
“Take it.”
“No, no. You take it. You’ll be working early in the morning.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can sleep in the couch.”
I sigh, “It’s no big deal.”
“Then sleep here. I’ll sleep outside,” he demands.
“No, I’ll sleep there. You sleep here.”
“Chas, for God’s sake. Take the bed.”
“I don’t want it. You can have it,” I try slipping by him.
He suddenly yanks me from off the ground, forcing me to squeal. I’m then thrown on the bed.
“Sleep!” Harry yells.
“No!” I fight to get out the bed, annoyed. “You sleep!”
“Why do you make everything so difficult?” he asks, rolling me in the icy sheets.
“You’re the difficult one here!” I kick the sheets off.
“It’s simple! You sleep here and I sleep on the couch!”
“You said you wanted the bed! So sleep in it!” I push.
“I was kidding!” he wrestles.
He pins me down and I exhale all the air from my lungs, feeling a hundred times more exhausted. I feel his sigh on my nose.
“No you weren’t,” I say in a quiet tone.
“I was,” he sighs again.
My eyelids get droopy. I blink lazily, making Harry disappear and reappear from my vision. I watch him yawn, collapsing next to me. His weight makes me sink closer to him.
“We’ll both sleep here. Problem solved,” he tells me.
I yawn too.
“I can’t sleep here,” I say.
“And why not?” he asks, his voice now groggy.
I whisper, “I don’t really like you very much.”
I listen to his chuckles… then his breathing. I fall asleep.