Saving Lucy

March 26, 2014
When you said your last goodbye
I died a little bit inside
I lay in tears in bed all night
Alone without you by my side
Blindly moving my hand around until I find the source of the music, I feel metal and grab at it. Still full of sleep, one eye opened and I swiped the answer icon on my screen.
“Lucy Teller, E! News UK.”
“Good morning, Lucy,” a deep, husky voice greets me. “Are you well?”
I sit up and rub at my eyes. “Yes, I’m very well. How are you, River?”
River Holmes was one of the producers/writers at E! News UK and basically my and Smith’s boss for the duration of our stay here. He was young and handsome, with brighter blue eyes than Niall and midnight black curls that were always flying away. I feared him almost as much as I wanted to sn006Fg him.
“Phenomenal!” River’s enthusiasm was ceaseless. He practically radiated happiness and positivity, and I envied him for it. Lately I’ve just been unable to muster any kind of enthusiasm about anything other than the smell of London, my new house, and Smith. “How is the wedding planning?”
“Truthfully, I haven’t been much of a help,” I laughed quietly. “Celeste is nuts for dealing with me. Must have been a tosser in her past life to get stuck with a sister like me.”
“Nonsense,” He insisted. “She’s plenty lucky.”
Thankfully he couldn’t see the way my face flushed at his compliment. “Thank you.”
“Did I wake you?” He asked abruptly, concern coloring his tone. How can one person be so genuine? How can one person be so genuine this early in the morning? These are the questions worth asking. “You sound a bit gravelly.”
“It’s quite alright.” Of course it was. It’s bloody unlikely that I’d tell him that I’d only gotten like 2 hours of sleep and wanted to slam my head against the brick siding. “Just give me a moment please.” Pulling off the covers, I went into the bathroom to put on my robe and walked out of my room to go downstairs. “Right. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” He said quickly. River was always one to make sure that you knew nothing was wrong. Far too concerned with other people’s blood pressure and all that. “I just had a bit of news for you if you’re ready.”
“Okay?” I prompted, holding my phone up on my shoulder by the ear as I poured a cup of coffee for myself. Not being an avid coffee drinker myself prior, I recently started to drink more of it since Smith moved in at the beginning of the week. My box of Twinning’s was still hidden in the cabinet though, waiting to be brewed and loved again.
“We need you to fly into LA tonight to shoot tomorrow’s show.”
Immediately my stomach dropped. “Why?”
“Apparently Giuliana has to fly to Chicago for a family matter, Catt is in New York, and Terrence is on vacation. Jason would love to host by himself but there needs to be another dynamic,” River explained. “Please tell me you can do it, love. I know you’re on holiday but Lord knows we need you.”
Even though I loved being here, I knew that at the end of the day, River was just asking me to be polite. I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.
“Of course, River,” I said equally as politely. “I understand completely. I’ll start packing.”
If I listened close enough I probably could have heard his sigh of relief. “Excellent. I knew I could count on you. I’ll courier your ticket. Your flight is at 1. Have a lovely day, Lucy.”
“Goodbye, River.” I hung up the phone and put my head in my hands, leaning against the counter. This going back and forth was so unsettling, and the fact that I never had a choice in where I’m going was starting to get tiring.
Actually, scratch that. I was flat out over it.
As I thought of all the things I had to get done so I could get back in time for dinner Friday, Smith ambled into the kitchen, scratching his toned abdomen and yawning. “Mornin’.”
“Good morning,” I sung, slipping onto a stool at the breakfast counter. “Sleep well?”
Though his back was to me, he still nodded as he added sugar and creamer to his coffee. “That mattress is a dream, Lucy.”
“Did you have a good evening? Get into any trouble?”
“No, mom,” He smirked at me as he turned around and leaned his bum against the counter. “But it was a very relaxing night in. I unpacked my things and went on a job around the neighborhood-er borough, I mean. It’s crazy how chilly it is here in March at night.”
“You’ll get used to it.” My phone buzzed next to my hand and I saw Grey’s smirk light up my screen. I really needed to just trash the thing. A moment of peace was beginning to seem like a myth.
“Who were you on the phone with earlier?” He asked before taking another gulp of the dark liquid that seemed to be the addiction of choice for many Americans.
I hesitated, curious as to why Grey was calling so early, before looking up. Seeing Smith, shirtless and in his loose gray sweatpants, I truly didn’t think I’d ever get used to waking up to this every morning. This boy was menacingly good looking and it was a wonder that he was still single. “It was River. He needs me to fly into LA tonight.”
“Are you serious?” One thing that Smith needed to get used to was the idea of being open to travel at a moment’s notice. Those types of calls happened more than I liked but it was just part of the job.
“Very,” I nodded before emptying the rest of my cup. After wiping my mouth on a napkin, I grabbed my cup and went over to the sink to rinse it before putting it in the dishwasher. “Will you be alright here?”
“I think so,” He said but I wasn’t convinced. With a smirk, I went into one drawer and pulled out a pen and sticky note, closing it with my hip and leaning over the counter so I could write better. “Here-“ I said as I scribbled down a name and number. “Is my friends’ numbers—Hunter and Gabby, Grey, and Nora. If you have any problems, just give them a ring, yeah? They’ll make sure you’re alright. And I promise none of them are affiliated with any kind of boy band.”
Smith grabbed the note and read it, nodding it as his owns moved from one side to the other. “Got it.”
“Good,” I smiled before reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek. As soon as my lips hit his skin, he turned his head slightly and my mouth hit the side of his. It wasn’t exactly a kiss but Harry’s face filled my mind and I suddenly felt very ill.
“Lucy,” Smith murmured, his hand moving to my hip. I was frozen in place—debating if I should run or give in to the minty smell of his breath and the warmth of his skin against mine.
Our faces were merely inches apart, and my mouth was still slightly open from the shock of what just happened. “I should…I should go pack.”
“Yeah,” He smiled, chuckling softly. His hand left my side and I ignored the pit that formed because of it. “Tight schedule to follow.”
“Yeah.” Giving him one last look, I turned on my heel and hurried out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into my room, locking the door behind me.
I had no idea how this little…whatever it was, was going to affect our living situation, but I wanted desperately to forget the way my skin seemed to burn at his touch and my body ached to be closer to his.
-
Safely tucked away in a first class seat, headphones on, and laptop open, I was tired and irritable after the day I’ve had.
First the courier got my address wrong and delivered my ticket to someone else, someone who had zero intentions of giving it back. Then, when I called River to tell him it was half past noon and I still didn’t have a ticket, he sent another one, except this guy was incredibly daft and probably the biggest knob I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting. Once I kindly showed him the door, I went to grab my things and realized I packed for London weather and not LA weather. Therefore I had to take out my sweaters and jeans and pack a pair of shorts, a blouse, and a dress instead. Very behind schedule, with zero hope of making my flight, I got into the car that River sent over and even though traffic was light, made it to Heathrow almost an hour after I was supposed to be in the air. The worst part of it all though had to be all of the paparazzi that were camped at Heathrow, waiting for some celebrity and settled for me. Speculation was already running around the twitter world that I was running back to LA for many, many ridiculous reasons.
All of which included a certain curly haired pop star who had a penchant for going MIA every so often.
So after all of that and several angry employees telling me “too bad, so sad,” I finally made it onto a flight at 4:20, having had to wait in a busy airport for hours, and all I wanted was my bed. Preferably warm sheets and a cuppa and one of the biscuits mum made for Smith that she said I couldn’t eat because I’ve had 21 years to and Smith’s fairly new to the scene.
Filming wasn’t something I particularly cared to do. I didn’t like being in front of a camera; when you were in front of people you could see in their eyes and their body language that they didn’t like what you had to say. With a camera, all you had was the judgmental lens staring back at you and nothing to go off of but your own fear and insecurities in the reflection. So clearly, coupled with my foul mood from getting here and what happened this morning, I was having a very, very bad Wednesday.
Smith texted me numerous times as I waited at the gate, mostly telling me all the things he thought were interesting as he went on another jog. London was still so different to him and it was oddly charming and endearing. I could just picture all of the women who have wide smiles that are just so willing to help Smith find his way home. He was the only reason I didn’t throw my carryon at the security man when I was on the phone with River, who was in the middle of telling me that my flight wouldn’t be until hours later.
In order to make our living arrangement work, we’d just have to forget about what happened this morning. If we could just pretend like it didn’t happen, we’d be okay.
I hoped.
I opened up my twitter bookmark and decided to tweet where I’m going. For once, I was going to have control over what was said about me.
@Lucy_Teller: Guess who’s back. Back again. Lucy’s back. Tell a friend.
@Lucy_Teller: LA, I’m coming for you. Xx
Instantly, my mentions started to blow up and a sigh escaped my mouth. After scrolling through tumblr for a second, I switched back to my tab and my subscriptions had a mention. I clicked on it and for the 100th time today, a pit formed in my stomach and my mouth dropped slightly.
@Harry_Styles: @lucy_teller: See you soon. Xx H
-
Still in a daze over Harry’s tweet, I entered my flat barely coherent and practically unconscious. After turning on all of the lights, I went into my bedroom, threw my bags into the closet, and flopped myself onto the bed.
He did a lot of stupid, irresponsible things but this has to take the cake. I had 24 hours to do a week’s worth of work here and I just didn’t have time to deal with his fans. I had to turn my phone off just because the buzzing from the notifications became too much. There wouldn’t even be time to see one another so what was the point?
And after this morning from Hell I just endured, I didn’t even know if I wanted to see him.
All of the revelations I made last night did not put me in the right mindset to deal with more confusing Harry thoughts that I seemed to have more often than I thought about eating and washing these past few weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what he was going for though; even an ocean apart he had complete control over me.
My thoughts were a jumbled up mess when my doorbell rang. Hesitantly, I pushed myself up and shuffled to the front door, pausing to look through the peephole first.
Harry.
“Of course,” I muttered as I unlocked the door and pulled it open. “’lo, H.”
“I told you I’d see you soon,” He grinned, kissing me on the cheek and pushing past me. Good to see you, too thanks.
“Come on in,” I mumbled. I blew my fringe out of my face exasperatedly and shut the door behind me, a little rougher than necessary. Following Harry to the living room, I sat on an armchair next to the couch instead of on it with him. His face puckered but otherwise he didn’t say anything. “So how’s Malibu?”
He shrugged. “It’s Malibu—sun, beaches, and tons of therapists. Same old, same old.”
Yeah, don’t bother informing me about what’s been going on or what we even were. Don’t bother explaining to me what the hell is happening. Same old, same old.
“Will you be coming home soon?” Better avoid my actual thoughts, good one, Luc.
“Who knows,” He shrugged again and my hand twitched in my lap with the urge to hit him. He shook out his curls and pushed them so they sat at the top of his head just so before he looked up and his eyes met mine. “Come here.”
I hesitated, just looking at his smiling face and open arms. If I didn’t then he’d know I was having second thoughts, but if I did, I’d have even more second thoughts. If I didn’t and he found out about Smith, things would be 100 times worse.
“Okay.”
Getting up, I closed the space between us and folded myself into his arms, my head finding its usual place in the crook of his neck. Our height difference made it easier to do this since I didn’t get swallowed like shorter girls would. Harry used to comment that I was the perfect height for him—not too tall to emasculate him but not too short that it was like kissing a 5th grader. I used to blush at his compliment and he’d kiss both of my red cheeks before finding my lips and making me forget my bashfulness altogether.
I wondered if he said the same things to Kendall since we were the same height roughly.
No, I can’t go there. I can’t think about her or him or I’ll go crazy. Best keep my thoughts on what was happening right now. I could do that. I had to do that.
“Hi,” He breathed into my hair. Long fingers rubbed circles into my lower back and his other hand cupped the side of my face. I knew that before anything happened we needed to talk, but in that moment I felt weak. I was exhausted of fighting Harry and fighting myself over Harry. I craved for human contact or for something to feel organic and real. For once, I just let go.
When our lips met it didn’t feel like the fire that the little bit of contact with Smith did. But the spark of whatever was left between us ignited and Harry’s kisses became more urgent, less gentle. Eventually I found myself on my back, with Harry hovering over me, lower body pressed into me. His teeth pulled at my bottom lip, causing me to groan and writhe under him, and he started to trail kisses from my jaw line to my neck to my chest. Almost as if he was asking permission, his eyes met mine just as his hand hovered over my breasts and I nodded once, giving him the go-ahead he sought after.
I felt his hand inch closer and closer to my pants and something inside of me just snapped, like someone poured ice water on me. “Harry,” I mumbled as he kissed my neck. “Harry, stop.”
“I don’t really want to,” He smiled against my skin. His tongue darted out and I shuttered from the unexpectedness of it, not the pleasure. I remember some nights the ghost of his lips on my skin keeping me up, the feeling of his heart beating against mine echoing against the walls.
I guess that was the problem with using physicality to try to sort out your thoughts; sooner or later those feelings caught up with you and you realized the security you were looking for wasn’t there and there was a reason that the uncertainty was there. Now my head felt even more confused and briefly I felt like I was going to vomit the dinner I had on the flight.
“But I don’t,” I insisted, pushing him gently off of me. He propped himself up by his elbows and furrowed his eyebrows.
“What’s the problem?”
I pushed my own self up and sighed. “I’ve been on a flight for 11 hours and would really like to go to sleep. It’s like 2 in the bloody morning, Harry.”
“Oh,” He grumbled, like the idea never occurred to him that I might be tired. “Okay.”
For an awkward moment we continued to stare at one another until I shook my head and pushed him off of my completely. Running a hand through my hair, I stood up and walked into my room, ignoring Harry as he continued to stare at my coffee table. If he wanted to join me, he could. If he didn’t, I’d live.
As I brushed my teeth in the bathroom that connected my room and the guestroom, I saw movement in the mirror—a blur of dark curls and a black shirt. Slightly pleased that he followed me, I pulled my hair back so I could spit out the minty paste and gargled with some mouth wash. When I went back into the bedroom, Harry was tucked into the sheets, shirt off and bandana on the nightstand. Ignoring him, I went into my closet, pulled off my jeans and jumper, and put on sleep shorts and a tank top before going back to him.
Right when he saw me, he lifted the covers so I could get in, and I crawled into his arms, pulling the sheets over my body when I was situated. Instead of the warmth and comfort I usually felt, Harry’s rigidness and irritation transcending from his limbs to me.
“Hi,” He smiled again. My body tensed like he was going to kiss me again and his smile was wiped clean off his face, a frown replacing it. “What did I do, Lucy?”
“Nothing,” I said, tracing shapes into his arms. “I just…I’m just not feeling like myself today.”
I felt his curls brush my cheeks as he nodded. “Okay. I’m proper worried is all. You’ve been very…distant. And closed off from me, and I’d like to know why. I mean, after everything I’ve gone through this month I’d like to think you’d have a bit of sympathy for me.”
And there it is: the guilt trip. “What are you trying to say, Harry? That I shouldn’t be irritated because you tried to off yourself?”
“No,” He snapped, removing his arms from around me. “That’s not what I’m insinuating at all. Jesus, Lucy, what is wrong with you lately?”
“Nothing,” I laughed darkly, shaking my head. I got out of the bed, putting more distance between us, and glared at him. “I guess the time we’ve spent apart has made me realize how much of a spoiled, selfish brat you are, Harry.”
“How can you even say that? You’re one to bloody talk!” He yelled. Harry was sitting up now and I tried not to stare at the black ink on his toned body. Not even his good looks could divert my frustrations.
“Easily,” I spit. “Ever since I’ve met you, H, you’ve been all about you. Poor misunderstood pop star that doesn’t have a bloody say in his life.”
“You bi-“
I put up a hand to stop him. “No. I’m positively sick of this. You don’t have a say in your own life so you think you can control mine. You yell at me and ignore me and treat me like rubbish because I let you. You tried to kill yourself, not even thinking about what it would do to Gem, or your mum, me or even the millions of people who adore you, just because you want to have a little bit of control over what happens to you. And you call me selfish for taking a job in LA and then asking if you’d like to go back home while you finish your treatments. How dare you? I mean really, how narcissistic and just blind can one person be?”
“Right,” He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest and narrowing his green eyes at me. “Because you’re so bloody perfect.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Was he serious right now? It was so like him to ignore everything that I just said and put it all back on me. Might as well have kept my bloody mouth shut, the tosser.
“Where do I start?” Harry sneered. He got out of bed as well and started putting on his clothes as he spoke. “Hm, how about the way you basically gave up everything you want in life for a job you hate. How about the way you let your dad and mum tell you how to do things, to follow money and not your heart. How Celeste always keeps you in her shadow because she’s scared you’ll outshine her.”
“That’s not even remotely true!” I screamed. No one talked about my family like that, least of all Harry. They absolutely adored him, and he’s going to talk about them like this?
“Isn’t it though, love?” He smiled, but it wasn’t Harry’s usual smile for me. This was full of malice and contempt and my heart hurt just looking at it. “You think you can take the piss out of me and not expect anything in return? You’re nothing without people holding you up and giving you a pat on the goddamn back.”
“That’s not true,” I practically cried, fighting to keep the tears at bay. I didn’t know who the hell this was but it surely wasn’t Harry, and I wasn’t going to let his person see me cry…or maybe this was Harry and 2 years ago I was too blinded to see it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You never once tried to get to know me. You never asked me the things that actually mattered.”
“Like what?” He laughed, shaking his head as he put on his shirt. “Your favorite color? I don’t give a damn about trivial things like that, Lucy. Why should I care about rubbish like that anyways? What good is knowing your favorite bloody animal will do me? We’re not children.”
At his words the tears broke through and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Then what was the point? What was the point of these 2 years if you didn’t even want to get to know me? What were you trying to do?”
“I didn’t ask you stupid questions so now the time we spent together didn’t mean anything? That’s rubbish and you know it.”
“It’s not about the questions!” I screamed in exasperation. “You never tried to understand me, Harry! You were like a tornado when you came into my life and you just took over everything. I couldn’t even think for myself without you telling me something was inappropriate or wrong. You didn’t let me think for myself!”
“I bought you nice things and took you to nice places because I thought that’s what you wanted,” He shook his head at me like I was some ignorant child. The black beanie perched over the mass of hair I spent hours running my hands through looked floppy and sad from being abused and overused by the owner—what a fitting metaphor for my own relationship with Harry. “It’s not my fault that you were so fucking clueless.”
My mouth dropped. “Who are you even anymore?”
“I don’t know,” He admitted as he opened the door, his back to me. “But whoever I am sure as hell doesn’t love you anymore.”