Take It or Leave It

I wasn't sure how much had passed but eventually it was dark and I'd abandoned my Tumblr inbox for my reading and Harry. We were properly laying down by that point, me on my back with my book and him with his head on my stomach still intently focused on his phone. Blankets and pillows strewn everywhere and the faint sound of Arcade Fire in the background.

I'd just been about to pull my free hand away from his hair to turn my page when suddenly he was quickly flipping over onto his stomach and grinning at me.

I jumped, nearly dropping my book and losing my place, "Christ, a warning would have been nice."

"I did something," he was positively glowing. A stark contrast to just a few hours ago. He’d been so quiet since his small panic attack, tired and worn out.

I didn't have any idea what he was talking about. We'd been sort of waiting. Waiting for midnight without saying we were waiting for midnight. For the shit to hit the fan. That seemed to be how it always was, silently agreeing on something because neither of us dared to bring it up and crush whatever fragile sense of ‘okay’ we had right then.

And I hadn't asked him what he was doing the whole time but I had enough faith in him to know that he wasn’t refreshing his band's website every two minutes for that goddamn announcement. But now I was sort of worried.

“What kind of something?” I asked slowly, trying to peek over the top of his phone.

“Uh uh,” he shook his head and pulled his phone back towards his chest, still grinning, “‘S a surprise.”

I knit my eyebrows at him, “You know I don’t like surprises, I-”

“Always figure them out, I know,” he cut me off, smile not faltering once, “Just lemme finish, yeah?”

I shot him a look, “Yeah, alright.”

That was when his expression changed just a bit. He was still glowing just as much as he had been before but now his bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and he looked nervous. And all of a sudden I was nervous too.

“L-like obviously you don’t have to come but like. We were talking about like. Getting away?” he was stumbling over his words all of a sudden and his cheeks were a rosy pink sort of color, “A-and I just thought. I-I know we were just fucking around but like. Since y-you don’t have class or work. M-maybe you’d, like, want to go away for the weekend with me?”

And then he was sheepishly pushing his phone into my face like a child.

I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right. He wanted to go away, escape everything that was falling apart around him, with me. Little old me.

“W-what?” I gingerly took his phone out of his hands.

He nodded towards his phone, “I-I’ve never been. Someone from my team went this summer. Said it was lovely.”

The website that was pulled up on his phone was clean and simple, pictures of the outdoors and quaint rooms automatically scrolling through at the top. My eyes skimmed through the first paragraph.

The Graham & Co. is a 20 room hotel in Phoenicia, a small hamlet in the Catskill region of New York State. Inspired by the heritage of the Catskills, the Graham & Co. is a modern take on the classic weekend getaway. We are located at the foot of Hunter Mountain and just two blocks off of Phoenicia’s main street, approximately 2.5 hours from New York City

“Harry…” I trailed off, glancing up at him.

“Keep going,” he mumbled, nodding back at his phone.

With unpretentious but considered accommodations, we offer over 3 acres of activities featuring a swimming pool, hammocks to lounge in, a badminton court, a fire pit, picnic area, bikes to explore on and plenty of places to relax with a cocktail. Close to hiking, fishing, tubing and skiing, The Graham & Co. is a perfect place to stay through all four seasons.

“Harry…” I tried again a bit more firmly, but still sort of in shock.

“W-wait, wait,” he shook his head and scooted over next to me so he could press a few links, “Lemme finish.”

He opened up a sidebar menu and pressed, ‘ROOMS’ before quickly scrolling down to a sort of blueprint of one called ‘DELUXE SINGLE’ and nodding for me to read.

DELUXE SINGLE
The best room on the grounds, the Deluxe Single room includes a queen bed, a private bath, Tivoli radio, kitchenette and complete pool & grounds access.

AMENITIES:BOOK NOW


“This is the most pretentious place I’ve ever seen,” I choked out with a nervous laugh, trying to deflect my uneasiness with shitty humor as usual. My head was reeling. Not only did he want to go away and escape for a long weekend with me, but he wanted to go to some gorgeous fucking getaway and share a ‘deluxe single’ room with me.

“Y-yeah,” his laugh sounded just as nervous, “I-it is. B-but like the good kind of pretentious. Look.”

He pulled up another link titled ‘NEIGHBORS’.

There was a whole list of them, all with little descriptions and hipster-y pictures, ranging from skiing and hiking and tubing to a farm animal sanctuary and a mystery store filled with antiques and vintage clothes and old records.

“This is a fucking breeding ground for hipsters,” I mumbled as I scrolled through them all.

“Heeeey,” he whined, “I know for a fact you like hipster breeding ground places. I follow your blog.”

My cheeks heated up at the mention of him being even remotely interested in my blog, “Fuck off.”

We were quiet for a little bit more, me reading about all of the things to do and him reading over my shoulder, pointing out what looked interesting to him. It wasn’t until I scrolled back up to the top and tried to click the ‘RESERVATIONS’ tab, that Harry snatched his phone back.

“Noooo,” he whined.

“Harry,” I mumbled, sort of ashamed, “‘M a college student. You’ve gotta be realistic.”

Of course I still had money from my inheritance and it wouldn’t kill me to dip into my furniture fund (that I had barely touched), but that wasn’t exactly okay. That money was my lifeline, keeping me afloat in a city far too expensive for my little cafe job.

“Nonono,” he shook his head and locked his phone, tossing it to the other side of the mattress, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Absolutely not,” I choked out, shaking my head. He was fucking insane. He couldn’t just book a weekend away at some expensive, cliche little getaway the day before and pay for it all himself.

“Why not?” Harry knit his eyebrows at me, “I wanna take you. Please. Lemme take you.”

His bottom lip was stuck out and his eyes were wide and it wasn't fair. He could probably get anything he fucking wanted looking at me like that.

“Harry, no,” I shook my head again, trying to stand my ground, “I-I don’t. You can’t just book this nice vacation the day before and expect to pay for it all yourself. I-I dunno even know how you can get reservations somewhere like that the night before. Christ.”

“Alivia,” his tone turned serious and his pout dissipated, “Y-you got me through this entire fucking fiasco, and ‘s not even over. ‘S the least I can do.”

“Y-you don’t owe me anything,” I pulled away from him more to study him. If for some insane reason he wanted to take me on a weekend getaway, that shouldn’t have been the reason. I wanted to go. I wanted to spend a weekend away with him. But not if it was because he felt like he owed me something.

“N-no, no!” he was quick to cut me off, “Th-tha’s not. Tha’s not why I wanna take you! I-I just. I wanna get away and you wanna get away and ‘s really selfish but mostly I just wanna forget about all this shit for a few days and just be with you.”

“W-with me?” I felt like I was in fucking middle school again.

He let out a big breath mixed with a laugh, “Yes, A. With you. Just you.”

My stomach twisted in a way I knew it shouldn’t have. And then I crashed my lips to his.

I knew I shouldn’t have been giving in, letting him pay for something like that, but I couldn’t say no. This was something he wanted, something that was going to make him feel better, happy even, and that was more important to me than anything.

Before either of us knew it I was on my back and Harry was hovering over me, lips hot down the side of my throat and my hands tugging at the hem of his thin shirt. This seemed to be how it always happened. But this time, we were sober.

The thing was, I’d been sort of avoiding the thought of that. It was intimidating and some irrational part of me was convinced if I brought it up, Harry would turn into a fancy bottle of wine or something. I wasn’t going to bring it up, I was going to take it all as it came and not think about the consequences. That was what I was good at anyway.

Both of our shirts ended up on the floor and I was just reaching for the buckle of his belt when I heard it. Pickles batting that fucking jar across the hallway floor, sending it flying against the wall before bouncing back towards him.

“Pickles,” I huffed exasperatedly, detaching my lips from Harry’s reluctantly.

“W-what?” Harry pulled away, breathless and red lipped.

“Pickles,” I groaned again, shutting my eyes and covering them with my hand, “I-I can’t just leave him alone for the weekend.”

He let out a sigh of relief, lips dipping back to my neck, “Fuck I thought something was wrong.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to find the self control to push him away, “Something is wrong,” I muttered under my breath, “Can we pause for a second? I need to find a cat sitter.”

“Alivia,” he whined into my skin, “I’ll take care of it.”

“Harry no,” I whined back but I couldn’t find it in me to push at his shoulder, “I can’t just call someone the night before, I’ve gotta like call a kennel or-”

I was cut off by his mouth at my collarbones, sucking a mark into my pale skin.

“Harry,” I hissed but it came out much less threateningly than I’d intended.

“Hm?” he glanced up with wide eyes and a smirk playing at his lips.

“Y-you can’t try and distract me with-”

“I’ll take care of it later, promise,” he answered a bit more firmly, picking his head up and resting his forehead against mine, “Now,” he continued, one hand easily slipping behind my back and reaching for the strap of my bra, “Let me take care of you.”

And who the hell in their right mind would say no to that?

*

Waking up the next morning was strange. Almost as strange as the first time we’d hooked up, but in a different way.

There were warm lips dotting kisses along my shoulder and soft words being spoken to me that I wasn’t awake enough to comprehend yet. It was a bit disorientating. It was something I hadn’t been expecting. Something I hadn’t had in ages.

“A,” another kiss to my bare skin, “Alivia,” another one, “Baby, please.”

My stomach filled with butterflies and my cheeks heated up. I wasn’t even sure he’d noticed what he’d let slip past his lips and into my shoulder.

“Hm?” I whined, screwing my eyes shut a bit tighter. It was too bright. Like we’d forgotten to shut the blinds the night before.

“Time to get up,” he sounded like he was smiling and god did I want to open my eyes.

But I stopped myself. This wasn’t like every other time after. This was different in so many ways. And part of me was very scared.

“Why?” I hummed as his kisses moved from my shoulder to my collarbone, pulling me out of my scattered thoughts and flashing me back briefly to the night before. The heat in my cheeks spread down my neck.

“We’ve got a room waiting for us,” he answered sounding amused, “A whole weekend with no one to bother us,” he mumbled leaving yet another kiss. The way he said ‘us’ sounded so familiar and safe and almost like home, yet just out of arm’s reach.

“Pickles,” I sighed, being brought back to reality a bit.

“Already took care of it,” he answered easily, “Called up the best cat kennel in Manhattan.”

“Harry,” I groaned and popped one eye open, wincing at the sunlight, “I can’t afford ‘the best cat kennel in Manhattan’.”

He just looked so pretty. His hair was straightened out and he was already dressed in a warm looking burgundy sweater and fully awake. His eye were wide and bright and his lips were pink and pulled into a genuine and I just wanted to kiss him senseless.

“Alivia,” he knit his eyebrows at me seriously, “I told you I’d take care of it.”

And then I was snapped back to the night before again. What he’d said directly after that. How he’d done more than kept his word.

“You’re unbelievable,” I mumbled and shut my eyes because I was almost 100% sure my face was as red as the soft material he was wearing.

“‘M going to take that as a compliment,” he hummed and resumed his kisses, “Pleaaaaase get up. Tried to make you breakfast and everything.”

My heart sped up a bit just at the thought of him trying to be domestic and useful in my tiny New York apartment kitchen.

“If you keep this up ‘m never getting out of bed,” I mumbled arms sliding out of the covers and slipping around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer. He was always so fucking warm. Like a goddamn furnace.

His lips immediately pulled away from my skin and I let out a disapproving mix of a whine and a groan as my eyes opened properly.

“As wonderful as that sounds,” he leaned down to lightly press his lips to mine, like he didn’t mind my morning breath or chapped lips, “We’ve got a two and a half hour car ride ahead of us.”

“‘S cold,” I whined child likely.

“I made tea,” he answered easily, “C’mooooon.”

His bottom lip was stuck out again. He was filled with a childlike excitement that made my stomach somersault.

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled, “No pouting.”

*

“Breakfast” consisted of omelets that resembled scrambled eggs more than anything, along slightly burnt toast and tea just how I liked it. Popstars that left home at sixteen weren’t exactly known for their cooking skills but he’d still thrown together something nicer than the granola bar I usually grabbed for my walks to class.

I got dressed possibly the fastest I ever had. Throwing on an oversized green sweater and a pair of leggings, paired with an old denim jacket to protect me from the slight chill in the wind and my old pair of converse. (x)

It wasn’t long after crunchy toast and sloppy eggs that we were in his car. We’d dropped Pickles off and there was a familiar leather duffle bag in the backseat, filled with a mixture of our clothes and toiletries.

Riding in Harry’s car with him was a completely new experience. The few times we’d gone out, we’d walked or been taken by his driver. We hadn’t sat in the expensive, black leather interior of his Range Rover that I didn’t even know he had, let alone kept in New York.

It was sort of intimidating at first, a glaring reminder that he wasn’t just H. He was Harry Styles and he had big, black, shiny cars all over the world.

But Harry was quick to stomp out any anxiety I had. I wasn’t even sure he was aware of it, it was just who he was. Always quick to put everyone at ease and make them as comfortable as possible. He was a genuine ray of light that could cut through any sort of cloud and warm anyone up. I admired it, but I was also sort of jealous.

The entire ride couldn’t be described any other way than bliss. Filled with genuine laughs and dumb jokes, me unwrapping mini peppermint patties (that his car was filled with) for the both of us, and childhood stories. How when he was younger his older sister used to try to lock him in his room when they would go on road trips because he used to always get carsick. How I could never stay awake during road trips when I was a kid and I used to always end up drooling on my brother’s shoulder.

It was gorgeous outside. The leaves were still changing and falling and the sun was shining and it made me forget all about how it was chillier than I would’ve liked or how it was probably going to be a rainy weekend.

And by the time his elaborate GPS told us to turn off the highway, every ounce of anxiety had melted away in his presence. We were laughing and singing along too loudly, the windows rolled down and the cool fall breeze and warm sun hitting our faces. It was the most relaxed I’d been in a long time.

“We’re almost there,” Harry looked over at me and grinned widely, squeezing my hand. I wasn’t sure how long mine had been in his, it was becoming a subconscious thing.

I couldn’t help but return his grin as I nodded, it was contagious, “You excited?”

His grin got impossibly bigger as he turned his eyes back to the road with a nod, “Yeah.”

And then he did something I wasn't expecting at all. He brought my hand up to his lips and pressed a simple kiss to the back of it.

I pretended my cheeks didn’t turn as red as his sweater. He pretended not to notice.

*

The one thing neither of us had looked into in our state of bliss, was check in time. We were two hours early.

But even that couldn’t phase us.

We found our way into town, walking up and down the big main street and pointing out shops that we wanted to go into until we found somewhere to eat. And the best part was, no one looked twice at us. We looked like normal tourists. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, walking around a small town with Harry Styles was something that worried me a bit, but Phoenicia with its population of a whopping 309 people, wiped that away from my mind completely.

The Graham and Co. itself was everything I could’ve hoped for in a getaway and more. The rooms themselves were modern and simple and the staff was wonderful. No one looked twice at Harry. The resort was less than a half mile from the main street filled with shops. It was private enough but close to everything the charming town had to offer.

We’d sort of silently agreed on not letting the outside world ruin anything. Neither of us had bothered to look for the wifi password when we arrived and neither of us complained about the lack of cell service. It was just us.

When the sun had set and most of the shops had closed up, we found ourselves on a blanket by the bonfire. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It was the only other place I’d ever felt we were the only two people in the world, save for my apartment. It was dizzying.

We’d swiped a colorful quilt from our room and made our way down to the bonfire, arms loaded with alcohol Harry hadn’t even been ID’d for and fruit from one of Phoenicia’s best qualities, the 24 hour fruit stand.

“What’re you thinking about?” Harry asked quietly, picking at the stem of an apple.

“Hm?” I turned my head away from where I’d been staring up at the sky. I wasn’t sure how long we’d just laid there, side by side, but it was dark all of a sudden. I could see the moon and the stars and the clouds.

It was one of those rare early fall nights where chilly wasn’t unbearable. Where if you closed your eyes and didn’t look at the colors on the trees, you could pretend it was just the end of the summer again.

“You’re thinking,” he mumbled, “You’ve got that look on your face.”

“What look?” I scoffed, hoping he’d think it was the heat of the fire that was warming up my cheeks.

“That look,” he was smiling over at me when I looked over at him. He was just a little tipsy. Enough to be able to have those late night conversations we always seemed to gravitate to, but sober enough to remember them in the morning.

“‘M not looking like anything,” I mumbled and looked back up at the sky. I was the same kind of tipsy as him.

“You are,” I could hear the grin in his voice, “I like it though. Always wanna know what you’re thinking.”

It didn’t help the heat in my face.

We were quiet for a little bit longer, Harry waited until I took a big bite of a peach to ask again.

“Are you gonna tell me?” he sounded sort of amused.

“Tell you what?” I mumbled with my mouth full, peach juice running down my wrist. I realized I was maybe a little more tipsy than I thought when I couldn’t lick it off as quickly as I’d thought.

“What you’re thinking,” he answered simply and reached for a sip of whatever we were drinking.

I shrugged. I didn’t particularly want to talk about it.

I was thinking about what I was usually thinking about when I was sat idle for too long. About the future. About what I was doing with my life. About where I was going. Things I didn’t have the answers to, things I felt like I never would have the answers to.

We were quiet again for a few minutes but my mind was roaring.

“D-do you ever feel like your life is buffering?” I blurted out after I’d tossed the pit of my peach into the fire behind our heads.

It was a stupid question. I knew the answer. Harry was already set for life in more ways than one. He was already doing what he fucking loved. What made him feel like he was fucking alive. I hadn’t even found that for myself yet.

“Buffering?” I heard him prop himself up on an elbow to study me as he seemed to ask for clarification.

I knew better. He was reading me. Sometimes, more often than I would’ve liked to admit, I felt like he had some strange sort of x-ray vision, a sixth sense that let him read every thought that crossed through my head. Whether they were big bold headlines or tiny fine print I tried to push to the back of my mind, he seemed to know them. It was terrifying and intoxicating and sometimes I hated it as much as I loved it.

“Nevermind,” I mumbled and shut my eyes. I didn't want to talk about it. I wasn’t good at talking about it. I wasn’t good at talking about anything, really. The only time I came even close to being decent at expressing my feelings was through my writing or my photography.

“Nonono,” his face was suddenly hovering over mine and I knew if I opened my eyes again, his bottom lip would be stuck out, “Don’t shut me out.”

My stomach twisted into an even more uncomfortable knot, “‘M not. ‘S stupid. Forget it.”

“Alivia,” he sighed seriously, “You know I don’t think anything you have to say is stupid.”

I shrugged.

Deep down, part of me knew that. Part of me knew that no matter how stupid anyone else would see what I had to say, Harry never did. Harry always let me elaborate and rant and go on for ages about whatever I liked. And never once did he ever make me feel like anything I had to say or felt was invalid. That was more than I’d ever had in anyone.

But too big of a part of my brain wasn’t convinced. That part of my brain was used to people that shut down any thought I had that differed from theirs. People that constantly invalidated anything I felt or thought or had to say, simply because they didn’t agree. Because I wasn’t like them.

“L-like,” I let out a big puff of air and opened my eyes, letting the words rush out before I could stop them, “I-I just. I feel like I’m in the fucking middle school of life or something.”

The corners of Harry’s lips twitched but didn’t curve up into a smile or a laugh, “The middle school of life?”

“Y-yeah,” I mumbled sheepishly and shut my eyes again, he was too close, “The middle school of life. ‘S stupid. ‘S just. That’s what it feels like. That’s the best metaphor I’ve got right now.”

“Well I never went to a ‘middle school’,” he answered quietly, and there was something I couldn’t detect in his voice but I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts to decipher it, “So I’d love for you to elaborate.”

I peeked one eye open, almost to check if he was joking. I knew he wasn’t.

“Like. Middle school is shitty, right? Like you’re thirteen and everything’s just shitty and you’ve got acne a-and you hate everyone and you’ve got no idea what you’re doing and your late teens to your early twenties seems to be exactly like that,” I rushed out again, before I could take it back, “A-and ‘s just shitty.”

“I feel like this is about more than acne and hating everyone,” he mumbled quietly, studying me with worried and soft eyes.

I swallowed harshly and nodded slowly, “‘S got more to do with the ‘no idea what you’re doing’ part.”

“I thought maybe that was it,” he let a little smile pull at his lips, but I could still see the worry that filled his eyes.

Part of me hated it, how he could get anything he wanted out of me. How he knew me inside and out, better than anyone ever had before. But a bigger part of me was too wrapped up in the fact that for once in my life someone understood. About everything. We could just lay and talk for ages and whether it was a good topic or a bad one, I always felt so much better. I always felt like maybe I didn’t need to have everything figured out yet.

So that was what we did for a while, just went back and forth about the topics I’d always tried my hardest to avoid. Growing up. The future. School and work. What would come afterwards and what was supposed to.

When the conversation had lulled for a little bit again, my mind wasn’t racing anymore. My muscles were relaxed and my heartrate was steady and I knew it wasn’t the alcohol, it’d mostly worn off towards the end of our conversation after we’d run out.

“Alivia?” I hadn’t realized my eyes were shut again.

“Hm?” I felt so much lighter than I had in a long time. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to get some of my fears properly off my chest. Loaded onto someone else and not just scribbling them out in a journal.

“I love this,” it sounded like a confession.

My eyes peeked open hesitantly, heart rate picking up again, “Love what?”

He was studying me again, this time a smile was tugging at his lips. His hair was a bit messy and his eyes were half lidded but he still looked gorgeous. All pink lips and soft skin. I’d realized it had become impossible to subconscious suppress those thoughts like I had before.

He shrugged as best as he could, still propped up on an elbow, “Just. This. Talking,” he rubbed a free hand over his face and shook his head, “I-I’ve never really had this with anyone. I-I’ve never had anyone like you.”

And just like the first time, it sent a jolt of electricity through me that the back of my mind told me it shouldn’t.

“Me either,” I confessed back.

And then his lips were on mine for the first time in far too long. He tasted like apple and alcohol and I should’ve minded, but I didn’t. I didn’t care that I probably tasted even worse or that we were laying on a blanket by a fire, technically in public. I didn’t care that we were still leaving everything so undetermined.

All I cared about was him and the way his hand felt like it was made to fit my jaw. The way his lips moved with mine like they’d known each other forever. Like everything was just right.

And maybe that was just because I was pushing everything out of my head, bottling it up in a compartment at that back of my mind for another time, but I kissed him back anyway.

“I like you so goddamn much,” he mumbled against my lips, pulling away just enough to read my expression. It sent my stomach flipping just as much as it had the first time.

“I like you so goddamn much,” I whispered back, grin tugging at my lips as I pulled him closer because it was the truth. And the truth wasn’t supposed to ruin anything.

*

That long weekend was maybe the best of my life. Definitely the most relaxing. The rest of it was rainy and a little chilly but it didn’t bother us at all. We bundled up and walked along the main street, ducking into shops to dodge heavy raindrops and sharp wind or drove around exploring little town streets, looking for our next adventure. We took pictures and polaroids and ate and laughed until we ached. At night if it had stopped raining, we’d sit or lay by the fire, sometimes with a drink but always with fresh fruit. And at the end of it all we were tangled up in warm white sheets, unable to keep our hands off of each other. No cell service, no internet, no outside factors that seemed to already be predetermining things. It was pure bliss.

Leaving was sort of heartbreaking. It was drastically colder than it had been the previous few days and pouring.

I could tell it was getting to Harry too. We dragged ourselves out of bed, threw on the warmest sweaters we’d brought (me in his thick burgundy one that he'd insisted on tugging over my head himself because nothing I’d brought was apparently warm enough), and stopped for one last meal at the local diner.

Unfortunately, the rain didn’t let up by the time we finished our big plates of food. It only started to come down even harder.

We’d contemplated waiting it out but I had class the next morning and Harry had a meeting. That was the most we’d talked about going back to real life in days and it didn’t help the dreary mood the dark clouds had soaked us in.

We tried to make the best of it though. We turned the music up too loud and sang along too sillily, tried to ignore the impending sense of doom looming over our heads. Because as much as we wanted to pretend and ignore and push away, reality was waiting for us just two and a half hours away.

An hour into the drive, throughout slightly bigger towns, we both sporadically started to get cell signal. It put an uncomfortable knot in my stomach that I hadn’t felt in days.

My phone was on silent but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t blowing up nearly as much as Harry’s was.

“Fuck,” he mumbled after the sixth consecutive text and reached for it in the cupholder, presumably to mute it.

“Absolutely not,” I scoffed and snatched it out of his hand, “Not at all. Especially in this weather.”

The bigger issue was that I had a feeling about what some of his incessant notifications were about. And I wanted to protect him for as long as possible. Even if it was only an hour and a half longer.

He huffed, glancing away from the road and over at me, “Can you read them to me please. At least the ones from Jenn?”

“No,” I tried to keep my voice light as I silenced his phone because I had a good feeling as to who Jenn was, “They can wait.”

“Aaaaalivia,” he whined, looking over at me again, “Could be an emergency!”

“There’s gonna be an emergency if you don’t keep your eyes on the road,” I mumbled and reached over to turn his face away from me, forcing out what I hoped was a believable laugh.

I’d foolishly thought he’d give up then. Not let whatever he was hearing in his head, outweigh what he should’ve been focusing on. The slick road and the pounding rain and the deserted highway.

Instead his hand was darting over to mine, playfully trying to tug his phone out of my hand.

It was so cliche, but it all seemed to happen in slow motion. The deer leaping out onto the slick road. The air leaving my chest. Harry’s eyes snapping back to the road and realizing what was about to happen.

My eyes instinctively shut and my hands curled into fists in Harry’s burgundy jumper. I heard the screech of the tires and the swears under Harry’s breath. I felt the metal we were trapped in swerve and myself being thrown against the passenger’s side door. But none of it felt real. It felt like slow motion and fast forward all at the same time.

I didn’t even feel us safely come to a stop.

“O-oh my god,” part of my brain registered Harry choking out, “A-Alivia, fuck, look at me. A-are you alright? Sh-shit…”

My mouth was dry and my head was still spinning and I had yet to register the aching in my head and shoulder but I managed to open my eyes.

We were on the wrong side of the road, but we were alive.

“A-Alivia,” Harry choked out and I forced myself to take him in. He looked as panicked as I probably did. But he seemed to actually be processing what had happened.

His eyes were wide and his hands were still tightly gripping the steering wheel. His knuckles were white and I knew if he pulled them away, they’d be shaking. Just like mine would be if I could get myself to uncurl my fists.

“I-I’m fine,” was the first intelligent thing I could come up with. I didn’t know if it was true but I wanted him to believe it was. I wanted to believe it was.

I couldn’t lose it in front of him. I couldn’t have a panic attack in front of him at all, but especially not one I knew he would blame himself for.

“A-are you sure? D-did you hit your head or anything? Ca-can you see straight? Fuck,” he finally pulled his hands away. I watched as he hesitated, like maybe he was going to reach for me but decided against it, instead pulling at his hair, “W-we should g-go to a hospital. Just to make sure.”

“N-no,” I choked out too quickly. I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I hadn’t even processed what had happened, I couldn’t handle a fucking emergency room. Let alone with Harry fucking Styles.

And that was when I first started to feel the anger and resentment bubbling up in me.

But right then it didn’t matter because I was still numb. My eyes were still huge and my hands were still shaking and a good part of me still felt like were spinning. I was still too much in shock to scream at him like I wanted to.

“A-Alivia, I-I know you don’t want to but I think we should,” he shook his head, “F-fuck ‘m so sorry. That was so stupid. God ‘m a fucking idiot.”

“I-I’m fine, Harry,” my voice shook more the harder I tried to sound firm, it came out more despondent than anything, “Y-you should check your car though. Make sure you didn’t hit anything.”

His eyes got a little bigger, like this wasn’t at all what he was expecting.

“Y-yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he nodded quickly, “Y-you’re sure you’re alright though?”

I just nodded slowly because my whole body was still fucking vibrating. A dead giveaway that I was on my way to slipping over the edge of panic.

He nodded like he genuinely believed me before undoing his seatbelt and pulling a jacket from the backseat. It was still pouring.

I watched as he shakily shrugged it on, glancing over at me one last time. I was waiting for something, but I wasn’t sure what. Another apology or a kiss on the cheek or something.

“A-Alivia,” his voice was sheepish, I didn’t particularly want to hear what was going to come next, “Please, please don’t tell anyone about this.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a request. And it felt like a fucking elephant on my chest even though I knew he only meant the accident that had just occurred. There was something else there. Something I couldn’t detect in his voice or his mannerisms because I wasn’t nearly as good at reading him as he was me.

I let out a shaky breath, tightened my fists a bit more, and nodded, “Of course not, Harry.”

He didn’t look as relieved as I’d anticipated, “Thank you.”

I nodded and then he was opening the driver’s side door and stepping out onto the side of the highway.

I let out a shaky breath, thinking maybe that would take the weight off my chest or release the ball of tension there. It didn’t.

And when something lighting up caught the corner of my eyes, it only got worse. Harry’s phone was lighting up with 10+ messages from ‘Jenn’.

My shaky hands picked his phone up from where it had been thrown to the floor. I knew I shouldn’t have done it somewhere deep down, but I was filled with a strange combination of anger and panic and I needed a distraction. And I was already skimming through the previews. All of them included the words ‘drug test’, and none of them were good.

I locked his phone and dropped it back into the cup holder just as the driver’s side door reopened and a soaking wet Harry slid back into his leather seat.

“‘S all good,” he nodded with a careful smile. I could’ve been sick all over the expensive interior.

“Good.”