Luck

Sitting in the backseat of Louis’ car, I felt nauseous. I wasn’t sure if it was from the nerves, or from his driving, but either way, I was only a few seconds away from puking. But seeing as it was a Range Rover just as nice as Harry’s, I knew better. And vomit would be the quickest way to end this little “date” (or whatever) we were on.

Lux had woken almost immediately after I got the voicemail, which probably meant I wasn’t quite as stealthy as I meant to be when I picked up my phone. I found it to be a welcome distraction, and it was only know that I had a chance to think about what had been said. I wasn’t sure if I was surprised, relieved or some strange mixture of the two.

I hadn’t really had time to think about Wilson’s call. After dropping Lux off, it was a short Tube ride to Harry’s, and I was more concerned about my outfit and hair at that point. I had changed into a nicer top, but I was still wearing the same pair of jeans that I had started the day in. Having no idea what type of restaurant to expect, I found myself worrying more about my outfit than I usually did. I just hoped I wasn’t underdressed.

Amelie had shown up dressed about the same as me, and Harry was wearing nothing more than a t-shirt with jeans. For now, I decided I was probably appropriately dressed.

But now my mind was set on the task in front of me: getting through this date without horribly embarrassing myself.

Harry was sitting next to me, with Amelie in the passenger seat, and Louis was driving. He had the radio playing, the same station that Harry always had on. The restaurant we were heading to was new to them, as well, and it took some navigating on Amelie’s part to get there.

“Take a left here - no, wait! Not here! At the next one! The next one, Louis!” Despite Amelie’s corrected directions, Louis still turned too soon, causing Amelie to let out a loud, dramatic sigh.

“Then why did you tell me to turn here!?” Louis demanded, “Now what do I do?”

“Just be quiet. I’ll figure it out. I’m good with directions.” Amelie spoke quickly and sharply, and Louis let out an exasperated groan.

“They always do this,” Harry whispered to me.

“Do what?” I whispered back, facing him. He looked bored and unimpressed.

“Fight like this.” Harry tilted his head towards the pair of them.

“Stop it, you lot!” Louis commanded, “I know you’re talking about my driving!”

Harry gave me an exaggerated eye-roll, while I giggled at how wrong Louis was. Not that his driving was any good, but it simply wasn’t what we were talking about.

“Louis!” Amelie screeched, “Park here!”

“Jesus.” Barely managing to fit the vehicle into the slot, Louis turned off his engine and sat back for a second before we all got out.

From where Louis parked, it was a short walk to the restaurant. They kept the pace brisk, not talking as we hurried down the street. I couldn’t help but wonder if they were trying to avoid something - or someone - that could be lurking.

Val’s was a darkly lit place with American license plates strewn around, and some band and movie posters (all American). The hostess explained that the owners had based it off a pizza place they had dined at when visiting San Francisco, and they thought the pizza was so good that they decided to open up a restaurant in London. It was gourmet, “American-Style” pizza, and though I was partial to a thin, New York slice, I decided to keep an open mind.

Liam and Lydia were waiting for us when we arrived, although Lydia was quick to assure us that they had only arrived a few minutes before (but judging by Liam’s sighs, that wasn’t the truth). The hostess led us to a large, round table towards the back of the restaurant, left us our menus and promised the waiter would be over soon.

“I hate sit down pizza restaurants,” Louis whined after flipping through the menu for several minutes, “Why do we have to wait for pizza? We shouldn’t have to wait for pizza. Pizza should just appear.”

“You have to wait for all your other food,” Amelie shot back, annoyance dripping into her voice, “Why should pizza be any different?”

“Pizza’s just different,” Louis shrugged, “When you want pizza, you want it now.”

Amelie rolled her eyes, “I’m dating a child, I swear.”

“Twenty-one years young,” Louis sang.

“Okay, you two.” Lydia’s mom voice was surprisingly on point, reminding me of my own mother’s, except with an English accent.

It took a while to agree on what to order, but we eventually settled on two large pizzas, one with white sauce and another with red (“For comparison!” Lydia claimed), an order of breadsticks, and then pasta for both Liam and Amelie.

Then, it was time to wait. We all agreed that we were hungry (“Ravished!” Harry exclaimed), and once the waiter brought the bread sticks out, they were gone quickly. Good but not great, the breadsticks lacked a heavy amount of garlic, which left me relieved. Harry had kissed me last time, what if he did the same this time?

“I need to use the loo,” Amelie announced sometime after the waiter had collected our little appetizer plates. The fierce hunger had subsided, leaving little pains in its wake, “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go too.” Lydia stood up without a second thought, before glancing at me, “You wanna come, Savannah?”

“Uh, yeah, I will,” I joined her, glancing at Harry. He was still flipping through the drink menu, as he had been on and off all night. The waiter had asked multiple times if he’d like anything, but each time, he had declined.

“Girls and going to the toilets together,” Louis rolled his eyes, “I swear.”

“I’m going to kill him one day, I swear,” Amelie mocked as soon as we were out of the earshot of the boys.

“And here I was thinking that you two were in love,” Lydia teased.

“We are. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill him.” Amelie held the door open for both of us and we slipped into the small restroom. It was two stalls and a single sink, but seemed acceptable clean for a public restroom.

“Go head, Savannah.” Amelie crossed her arms, but smiled at me.

I didn’t think I needed to pee; I only agreed to go because it felt weird staying with the boys while Amelie and Lydia were gossiping in the toilets. But now that I was here, I had to go. I was done before Lydia was, and went to wash my hands while Amelie took my stall.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” Lydia asked me, emerging from her stall to wash her hands, “You seem quiet tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I assured her. I ran my hand through my hair, using the mirror to adjust my part.

“You sure?” Lydia took out her lipstick from her purse, touching it up.

“It’s been a long day,” I said finally, “And it just keeps getting longer.”

“Tell me about it!” Lydia said, “I hate going out on Mondays.”

“I don’t have classes Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Amelie joined us and Lydia stepped aside to allow her to wash her hands, “But, I agree with you.”

“Don’t date Harry,” Lydia warned, though her voice was teasing, “You’ll have to go on dates on weird nights, like Monday’s. Monday night date nights just aren’t the same as Saturday night date nights.”

I must have look bewildered, because they both laughed.

“We’re kidding, Savannah,” Lydia said, a smile still dancing on her face, “You and Harry should definitely date.”

“Yes, definitely,” Amelie hummed as she dried her hands, “What’s going on with you two, anyway?”

“We’re friends,” I shrugged. Part of me wanted to tell them that he kissed me, I wanted to tell anyone, I just wanted someone to get excited with me, but I knew better.

“Well, if that changes…”

“Let us know!” Lydia finished for Amelie. “Look! Our food’s here!”

Just from peeking out of the door to the loo, I could see several dishes and large pizzas sitting on the table. Returning to the table, I saw that Liam had already dished out the pizza and was waiting for us.

“Liam, did you start without us?” Lydia slid back into her seat next to him, stabbing one of his penne noodles without warning.

“I was hungry,” he shrugged, his mouth full.

“Hmmm, this is good,” Lydia allowed, “Give me more.”

Liam fed her a bite of his penne with his fork, while Amelie and Louis made gagging noises at them.

“Shut up, you two,” Lydia stuck her tongue out at them.

Too hungry to care about their immature antics, I spent maybe half a second with the slice in my hand before taking a large bite. Pain overtook my mouth, and I coughed, trying to swallow it as fast as possible. Failing miserable, I ended with pizza sauce on the edge of my face and a burnt tongue and throat.

“It’s hot, Savannah,” Harry teased, handing me a napkin to wipe my face with.

“Shut up.” I kicked him in the shin under the table and he flinched.

“So, whaddya think, Savannah?” Liam asked once everybody had a tried each of the pies and the pizza had cooled down, “Is this authentic American pizza?”

“I grew up with Dominos and a place called Little Italy down the street. I wasn’t really aware that Pizza was an American thing. You seem to have enough of it floating around.” I shrugged and took another bite of my pizza, managing to enjoy it this time. I liked the white sauce more than the red sauce, but both were fine.

“Fair enough,” Liam allowed.

“I’ve been to Italy and I thought American pizza was better,” Harry said, “I like this pizza, though. It’s good.”

A general murmur of agreement passed through, and I realized I was the only one in the group who hadn’t been to Italy. As the meal progressed, conversations bounced back and forth easily, from the holidays to my and Louis upcoming birthdays and to the boys’ album sales.

“So, Savannah, your parents are in jail, right?” Louis twirled his fork around Amelie’s pasta, taking a bite out of it. Our discussions had slowed a bit, but it didn’t seem terribly awkward. Not yet, anyway.

“Louis!” Amelie nearly screamed, flicking Louis so hard he almost yelped.

“No, no it’s fine.” I said quickly, glancing around to make sure nobody was paying attention. No one else in the restaurant had even looked up, their conversations creating a background buzzing that made me feel comfortable discussing my family.

It was perfectly fine. I found myself okay with them asking questions, relieved that for once someone actually did instead of just assuming or gossiping, “Yeah, my parents - and brother - are in jail on charges related to drug smuggling, dealing and murder.”

“Did they do it?” This time it was Liam who spoke, and Liam who flinched when Lydia hit him.

“Lads…” Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t look me in the eye, instead shifting his focus to the pizza crust still in front of him.

“Uh, they actually just changed their plea to guilty,” I told them, surprisingly calm, “My parents, not my brother. So I guess they did.”

Beside me, I could see Harry’s face crumple in confusion as he finally looked up at me, “What? When?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted, “I guess just today. At least, that’s when I found out about it. I haven’t really been keeping up with my family.”

“I know the feeling,” Louis agreed, still nibbling at Amelie’s pasta, “My dad left my mum when I was nineteen days old or something. Haven’t talked to him in years. Family’s dumb.”

“I don’t think my family’s dumb,” I said under my breath, but nobody seemed to hear.

“All of our families have done things," Lydia offered, "It doesn't matter."

"Not at all!" Amelie agreed a little too quickly.

And that was the end of the conversation; it quickly flowed to Louis' sisters, and Amelie’s siblings. Amelie’s youngest brother was only five, and she had a wide range of stories to tell about him.

We were all laughing at her story of how her brother old everyone that his all his friends that his dad had gone to jail (Amelie’s father was not in jail, but happily employed as an IT manager), and were calming down when the mood changed instantly.

“Here comes one,” Lydia said suddenly. I was confused as to what she meant until I saw a girl walking towards the table. She looked nervous, but also happy. At first, I wasn’t sure why everyone was avoiding her gaze.

She didn’t look young; that’s what threw me off. I had believed the stereotype that all One Direction fans were twelve year old girls, and she was certainly not a twelve-year-old girl. She looked like she was my age, or maybe older, and she was dressed well, better than I was.

“Hi,” she breathed, “Uh, can I have a picture?”

Louis and Liam shot each other a look, and Liam began to speak but before he could, Harry did, “Of course.”

He stood up almost immediately, while a look of panic spread over Liam’s face. Louis stayed calmer, but made no move to get up from the table. He swiped another bite of Amelie’s pasta. The girl looked disappointed.

"What's your name?" Liam asked, but he remained sitting, his hand over Lydia’s.

"Oh, I'm Emily!" She squealed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Emily.” Harry’s voice had a quality that I couldn’t quite place; one that I had never heard him use before, “Do you have a phone?”

“Yeah!” she pulled out an iPhone from her pocket, “Like, with all three of you?” she clarified.

“Sure.” Liam sounded defeated.

Liam and Louis stood up, Louis stalling for a second by pushing in his chair, while Amelie and Lydia exchanged a look that I couldn’t quite place.

“Lydia, will you?”

“Of course,” she said sweetly. Lydia took the fan's phone and struggled with it for a second until the familiar click of the camera went off.

“Thank you!” she said happily.

“Yeah, no problem,” Harry muttered.

“Don’t post this until later, please,” Louis requested.

“Thank you!” She repeated again, but said nothing about Louis' request.

It was strange to see that side of them. They seemed so normal, so real to me, that it didn’t really matter that they were famous. Their interaction with Emily was a new side of them; their voices all changed slightly, like mine did when I was talking with Lux, and their body language had become more closed off. For them, this was their real life.

The fan encounter was a mood killer. Liam was quick to flag over the waitress and pay the bill (all of it, despite the fact that there was six of us). We remained mostly silent the entire time, saying fast goodbyes to Lydia and Liam, who lived on the opposite side of London than Harry and Louis. Liam apparently resided in a large condo in Canary Wharf, and while Lydia technically lived in a small apartment near the University of London campus, she spent most of her time at Liam’s.

“Back to your’s, Harry?” Louis’ driving was no better than it had been earlier in the day, but at least now I knew that my earlier nausea wasn’t due to his driving, but due to nerves and other reasons.

Harry glanced over at me quickly but didn’t wait for an sort of confirmation, simply saying, “Yeah, back to mine.”

Still startled by the fan encounter, the ride was mostly silent, with the exception of Louis asking Amelie to remind him to call his mother tomorrow. In the most amicable exchange they had all evening, Amelie agreed and told him that they should try to go visit for a weekend soon.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said as Louis pulled up to Harry’s house.

“No problem.” Louis unlocked the door and Harry quickly slid out the door.

“I’m glad you two could come with us,” Amelie smiled at me quickly, “Maybe you’ll be able to join us next week, as well.”

“Yeah, maybe!” I agreed.

Following Harry up his front steps, I nearly tripped on the top one and grabbed on to him, giggles escaping in embarrassment.

“Okay?” Harry’s voice was full of concern as he helped me up.

“Why didn’t we go through the garage?” I whined as Harry fumbled with his key.

“Why would we? I usually go through my front door when I don’t drive. It’s not my fault you don’t have the entire layout of the house memorized.” He turned back to look at me as he managed to get the door open and step inside, flashing me a giant grin.

“I’m so done with you,” I muttered under my breath.

“What was that?” Harry asked. I followed him into his house and watched as his arm ghosted across the wall, attempting to locate the light switch.

“Don’t you have the entire layout of your own house memorized?” I mimicked, “Why are you struggling so much with a petty little light switch?”

Harry chuckled, “I had that one coming.”

The lights flickered before turning on fully, illuminating his house. I had been here late at night before, but somehow it felt different when we were coming back together.

“Did you have fun?” Harry asked once we were settled in back at his house. We had found our usual seats on his couch in his living room, and he had the remote in his hand like maybe we were going to watch TV even though we both knew that we wouldn’t.

“Yeah, yeah I did.” The night had been surprisingly low-key, and much less stressful than I had originally thought. I liked both Amelie and Lydia, and Liam and Louis weren’t half bad, either, although I found it strange that Monday seemed to be their dedicated date night.

“They go out on Monday’s because they’re less likely to be papped,” Harry explained, as if he could read my mind, “And less likely to run into fans. Also Amelie’s school schedule works that way somehow.”

“You guys ran into a fan today,” I pointed out.

“I know,” Harry said, “It doesn’t normally happen though. Think about all the times we've gone out and never been stopped."

Flashes of our past outings went through me. There hadn’t been many; the ice cream date and the run-in at the coffee shop. Mostly he would just come to visit me while I was watching Lux and then drive me home afterwards.

“We haven’t gone out much. Mostly we just hang out here. Or at Lou’s.”

“Alright,” Harry allowed, laughing slightly, “My point is it’s not as bad as everyone thinks it is. We don’t get mobbed all the time. Just when we’re on tour or whatever.”

“Well, I’m glad to know that hoards of angry teenage girls don’t prevent you from living your life.” I slumped back onto the couch, relaxing for the first time that day.

“Why didn’t you tell me about your parents?” Harry was now splayed out on the couch, his feet resting in my lap.

I shrugged, “I just found out today. There really wasn’t time to. I got to your place and the first thing you said was, ‘Louis will be here in five minutes!’”

“Is that why you were so off-kilter tonight?” He propped himself up on his forearms, and looked straight at me.

“I’m always off-kilter,” I offered with a laugh.

“Are you okay?” Harry’s eyes were full of concern, and he sat all the way up, removing his feet from my lap.

“I haven’t… I haven’t had time to think about it, not really anyway.” I wasn’t much in the mood to talk to about it, “I’ve been distracted. I’ve had other things to worry about.”

“Like what?” Harry scrunched up his nose.

“Well, Amelie and Louis and Lydia and Liam are couples, like proper couples, and I didn’t know if…” I trailed off, hoping that Harry would pick up on my hint.

“Yeah, they’re both dating,” Harry said, “But I don’t get it?”

“If it was a date,” I admitted quietly, and then loudly, “If our little dinner tonight was a date.”

“Was it a date?” Harry raised his eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” I said, slightly exasperated.

“Do you want it to be a date?” He looked straight at me, his expression unreadable.

I hesitated for a second, before electing to tell the truth, “I want it to be a date.”

“Oh, good. So do I." Harry's reply was so simple, but in every way possible perfect.

And then his lips were on mine, before I even had time to fully process his response, and my fingers were tangled in his hair and we were kissing. Our first kisses had been short and sweet, but this one was heated and passionate, yet just as full as emotion as the first had been.

His hands ran up and down my sides, and we were both gasping for breath when we tore apart. But he wasted no time sponging kisses across my jaw and down my neck.

And then suddenly, an insistent vibrating followed almost immediately by a ringing.

“Fuck,” Harry mumbled as he pulled away, running his hands through his hair. He reached for his phone, just glancing at the caller ID before picking up, “Hello?”

I sat back, biting my lip slightly. My entire body was on fire, but I was quickly cooling down. I missed Harry’s embrace, but somehow I knew that we weren’t going to be going back to where we were anytime soon. I could hear the person on the other end of the line, but I wasn’t paying attention, too distracted by what had transpired.

“You left your jacket in Louis’ car,” he told me as soon as he hung up, his lips still red.

“Oh,” I said.

“Yeah. He said he’ll give it to me tomorrow, and I can, uh, give it back to you.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Harry sat back, his hands behind his head, “It’s not a problem at all.”

[&&&]

It was late when I got home. Harry insisted on driving me, and offered to let me stay the night, but I wanted to go home. I needed to go home. I needed to write a letter to Michael and probably an email to Maria and then probably wake up early tomorrow morning and call my grandparents. They were always nicer in the morning. At least that’s what I liked to think.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Eva told me after I crept into the living room, “I didn’t think you’d be coming home.”

“Why? I said that I would be.” I tried to keep my tone from revealing my emotions, but I failed. I sounded tired and grumpy, and like I was thoroughly annoyed with Eva. Which I was.

“Yeah, well, you always say that, but then you always spend the night at Harry Styles’ house,” Eva explained, “Are you two sleeping together yet?”

I ignored her, “I wish you wouldn’t call him that.”

“What?”

“Harry Styles,” I sighed, “It makes him sound like a big deal or something. He’s not really a big deal. He’s just… Harry.”

“He’s Harry Styles,” Eva cut in, “There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” I said curtly, “He’s just a regular person. Anyway, I’m going to bed.”

Not waiting for her response, I hurried to my room. The first thing I saw was the box, and in it, Michael’s crumpled up letter. I was tired, and I had left my laptop in the living room, but I could still write Michael back.

I ripped several pages out of a notebook I had been using to take notes in, and grabbed the nearest pen I could find - a scented one that was once Lux’s.

Michael,
Sorry I haven’t written you. Or called or whatever. I was desperate so I hopped on a plane to London and stayed with our grandparents and now they’re helping me out while I work and go to school.

I’m doing well. My roommate’s kinda a bitch and I’m stressed about finals, but overall life is good. I got lucky, I guess. I’m nannying a little two year old and that’s fun. No sarcasm. It really is. Also the pay is probably better than anything I could get anywhere else.

I’m making friends. I went out for pizza with some people tonight. The pizza was okay, but it was good to do some normal things for once, I guess. You don’t have to worry about me, Michael. I’m doing okay.

I don't have a lot of money but if you need anything, let me know and I’ll try to help you out. Nan is pretty strict with calling and I’m sure you can’t make international calls from prison or whatever, but we can write.

I miss you a lot. And Mom and Dad, too. Please let me know how you’re doing.

Much love,
Savannah

It was nearly two in the morning by the time I put my pen down, and I was exhausted. I was asleep before I could turn my light out.