Broken Things

I slept late into the afternoon. So late that it was only when Harry knocked on my door that I finally rolled over and sat up. Peeking his head in cautiously, he couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the state I was in. I imagined the worst; a rats nest of a hairdo and thick black circles beneath my eyes.

“Did you plan on waking up sometime today or...?” he asked.

“Eventually,” I conceded, falling back into the pillow.

“I have soundcheck in an hour. Didn’t know if you wanted to ride with me or take a cab. I think Declan and Ashley will be there early, too.”

“Gimme fifteen minutes,” I sighed, raising a hand to run through my hair. I heard the door click shut and gathered my strength to stand.

I’d never been to one of these things before. I couldn’t be sure what the dress code was for VIP at a One Direction concert, but since it was technically a beach festival they were making an appearance at, I threw on my softest baseball tee and a pair of shorts, calling it good. After wrangling a brush through my long, blonde locks I tied them up in a ponytail. Halfway satisfied, I only had to put on mascara before I was good to go.

Harry was waiting for me in the living room, sprawled out on one of his couches with his phone in his hand. I rolled my eyes at his attire, signature skinny jeans and a sheer button up. Where he got the stuff, I would never ask, but I hoped they put a ban on him in their store soon.

“Lemme grab a water and a yogurt and I’ll be good to go,” I said, breezing past him as I made my way into the kitchen. He grunted in response, apparently more wrapped up in whatever he was doing on his phone than talking to me. When I reappeared in the living room, meal in hand, he was standing by the door.

It was warm out, the sort of hot that reflects from the concrete and makes the breeze feel like breath. Harry’s black Range Rover felt like a coffin, and he rolled down the windows while he waited for the air conditioner to get cool. Glancing at the clock, it was 2:30. I wondered how tan I would be by the end of the night.

The station we’d been listening to on the radio yesterday was mid-talk show, so he fiddled with the dial as he rolled up to a stoplight to try to find something to listen to. When he wasn’t satisfied, he sighed and gave up on a pop station. I didn’t mind, mostly because it had been so long since I’d listened to the radio but also because I loved Nick Jonas and Jealous was a jam.

The light turned green and Harry maneuvered his way toward the highway while I got to work with my yogurt, humming along to the song. We hadn’t said much to each other, but it was a comfortable silence we’d fallen into. I felt content to be in the passenger seat, snarfing down yogurt and listening to the youngest Jonas Brother croon.

I had no longer finished eating that the opening chords to one of my favorite songs began and I gasped. Harry looked over at me, smirking.

“You’re still stuck in a Hilary Duff phase, aren’t you?” he joked.

I wanted to make some snarky reply, and was trying really hard to come up with one when I realized he’d just as easily recognized the song. Narrowing my eyes, replied, “You’re the one who knew immediately it was a Hilary Duff song.”

“Touché,” he shrugged, looking both ways dramatically before reaching for the volume control and turning it up. I watched in amazement as he began to sing along.

“’Cause hey, baby, baby you’ve got me so, so good. Hey baby, baby I’ve got it so, so bad,” he bopped his head along to the beat. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter, but joined in nonetheless.

“Think you’re all about me, but I’m all about you. Turn the lights down, lemme show you it’s true...”

It was the first time in a long time that things felt truly normal between us. Harry always had a way of acting unexpectedly, which was why it was such a shock he’d ever been in a relationship with me in the first place. Looking at him then, hitting all the right notes to a Hilary Duff song, it was easy to remember why I’d initially fallen for him. The only difference was his newfound maturity, both physically and intellectually.

The air conditioner had no doubt cooled down long ago, but Harry made no move to turn it on or roll up the windows. His eyes would flicker over to me occasionally, where I tried to keep up with him but failed because I was laughing too hard. Traffic wasn’t heavy, but it was L.A., so we coasted our way to Santa Monica at a leisurely pace. When the song ended, I was sad to see it go.

The next song was some Dark Horse remix, heavy on the EDM, and I reached forward to turn it down. Harry snarled but kept his eyes ahead, not minding the volume change at all.

“Do you remember Sara’s sixteenth birthday?” Harry asked suddenly.

My mind conjured up images of shot glasses and cake fighting. Mostly, I remembered the stories other people had told me of my drunken endeavors to seranade Harry. I groaned, bringing my palm to my face as I cringed into it. Harry laughed as he signaled to exit.

“What song was it again?”

“Ignition Remix,” Harry happily responded.

“Dear Lord,” I sighed.

“Runnin’ her hands through my ‘fro, bouncin’ on 24’s,” he recounted before I reached over and gave him a hard punch to the arm. Stopped at a light, he only laughed harder, the real kind where his eyes crinkled as he threw his head back.

“Eyes on the road,” I growled, crossing my arms over my chest as I sunk lower into my seat. That memory wasn’t my proudest moment; mostly because I couldn’t remember much of it at all. The light turn green and Harry obliged, guiding us to a designated parking area. I hopped out of his passenger seat, my flip flops hitting the sticky tar of the parking lot. Luckily, the breeze coming off the ocean made up for the killer sun.

Harry led the way through a maze of security and barricades. I followed blindly behind, trying to keep up with his insanely long legs. Eventually, we broke through to a backstage setup, where Harry was directed toward a dressing room setup and I was told to make my way to a viewing area beside the stage. A security guard led the way, Harry sending me an apologetic glance over his shoulder just before he disappeared within the depths of the tent.

I climbed a stairwell to the viewing area and stopped when I caught sight of Ashley and Declan, sitting side by side and digging through a bag of In-N-Out. Ashley was the first to wave me over, smiling when she caught sight of me. Declan followed her gaze to land on me, and I gulped heavily before shifting my weight from one foot to the other, reluctant to join them but with no where else to go.

Declan’s words still haunted me, the way he’d stood and berated me in the parking lot after the fire. I’d been drunk, and maybe I was laying it on thick in the drama department, but he’d still hurt me.

“Got you a double-double,” Ashley told me, pulling a burger out from the depths of the paper sack. “Animal style,” she added.

I thanked her quietly before sitting down beside her, Declan on her other side. His eyes followed my movements, but I ignored him completely as I pulled the wrapping from the burger and began to eat. Ashley slid a cup over toward me and when I lifted it to my mouth, I was pleased to find a strawberry shake. The stage was blocking the wind rolling off the ocean, and it felt stuffy hot while people weaved around us, setting up various instruments and amps.

“How are you?” Ashley asked cheerily, clearly determined to ignore the elephant in the room. I shrugged noncomittally in response.

“Gemma and I went shopping to replace my clothes,” I shrugged.

“I saw you went to dinner with the boys last night,” Ashley said.

“What?” I asked, glancing over at her.

Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced over to Declan for help. He was busy pretending to be invested in his crinkle fries. “You haven’t seen?”

I shook my head, at a loss for what she could possibly be talking about. With a frown, she dug out her phone and began typing away on it. A moment later she handed her phone to me, a One Direction update account pulled up on her Twitter app.

“Confirmed: Niall, Zayn and Harry having dinner with Harry’s ex Sawyer Powell in Santa Monica.” A set of four blurry photos were attatched, obviously snapped from the camera phone of one of the girls who had approached us the night before.

“How the hell do they know who I am?” I questioned aloud.

“Old Facebook photos, I think,” Ashley shrugged, taking her phone from me. I glared at the thing like it was the reason I felt so uncomfortable.

“So that’s me, then,” I huffed. “Harry Styles’ ex-girlfriend Sawyer Powell. Fantastic.”

“You know better than to bother with it, Sawyer,” Declan said, and it was the first words he had spoken to me. I pretended not to hear, busying my mouth by taking a large bite of my burger. Ashley’s eyes flickered between the two of us before she silently grabbed her fries and shake and not-so-subtly took her leave. I glared so hard at her that I felt a headache coming on.

Declan sighed, lifting a hand to run through his hair. I sucked hard on the straw of my milkshake, still not looking over at him.

“Sawyer, I was a dick,” he finally admitted. When I made no response, he continued. “I was out of line and frustrated, and I had no right to say the things I said to you that night. I didn’t mean any of it, and I think you know that, but I still need to say it.”

“Okay,” I allowed.

“Okay?” he repeated, raising a brow. I broke down and looked over at him. He looked disbelieving.

“Okay,” I repeated, rolling my eyes. “I’m not going to say it’s fine because it isn’t. You were really mean to me. But, I’ll allow your apology. It’s being processed, you’ll know how it goes in four to six business days.”

“You’re such a freak sometimes,” he shook his head, reaching over me for my shake. I pushed it further out of reach.

“Too soon,” I told him. He frowned at me.

“Can I come back yet? These steps are numbing to my ass,” Ashley called, her head poking up over the last stair leading up to where Declan and I sat.

“Yeah,” I told her.

“I can’t believe you let him off the hook that easily,” she said. “I expected to hear more groveling.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Declan chimed in. “You held a grudge to Harry for four years.”

“I’m trying not to be like that anymore,” I answered, reaching for one of Ashley’s fries. “It was depressing.”

“Got that right,” Declan muttered. “If I had to hear another song by The National, I was going to lose it.”

“That’s one of my favorite bands, asshole,” I chided, choosing to throw the french fry at him rather than eat it. When it hit him in the eye and he flinched, I felt a sense of victory wash over me.

Declan opened his mouth to make some snarky response, I was sure, but was cut off by someone banging on the drum set on stage. A few musicians had appeared on the stage, unnoticed by any of us. On the other side, I could see the boys gathered near each other, playing with their in-ears while they chatted amicably. I watched them as they filed out onto the platform one after the other.

Zayn jogged out to the stage from behind Harry, smacking him hard on the butt as he went by. He sent a wink in my direction and I couldn’t help but start laughing.

“Looks like someone has a new favorite member of One Direction,” Declan teased.

“Well, it wasn’t very tough competition, was it?” I joked in response.

“Heard that,” Harry said into the microphone. I hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten and Ashley reached out to fist bump him for taking us by surprise. He obliged her happily.

“If you could kindly quit flirting and do your fucking job,” said a voice into the microphone. Though I hadn’t met him yet, my eyes immediately found Louis, who was on the complete opposite end of the stage, leaning forward and sneering playfully at Harry, who turned promptly to flip him off as the opening chords to Story of My Life began to play.

I watched the boys with mild curiousity, the way they bounded around the stage despite the serious tone of the song, tripping over each other and causing bodily harm. It was easy to see how they’d charmed their millions of fans. Mostly, I felt content to see Harry truly in his element for the first time.

“You’ve never been to one of these, have you?” Declan leaned over to ask.

“No,” I answered. I must’ve had stars in my eyes or something for him to lean over and comment on it.

I knew that Declan had been to more of these than he could count. Even when Harry and I had our falling out, Declan had joined Harry for small stints on past tours, or just showing up to events when Harry was back in London. For me, this was uncharted terrain, and I couldn’t stifle my curiousity at how all of it was put together. I found my eyes focused more on the sound techs or the people running frantically around in the back, speaking loudly into headsets and fiddling with this chord or that.

The boys ran through five or six songs before they took a break. Harry appeared at my side suddenly, folding his legs beneath him as he wrangled himself into a sitting position.

“Hey,” he said casually. I wrinkled my nose at him.

“You’re sweaty,” I told him.

“I think you’re cute, too,” was his reply as he brushed up against my arm. I twisted out of reach, which only encouraged him to wrap his arms around me and pull me into his lap.

“Okay, but really,” I whined, trying to writhe out of his grip.

“Ashley, do you think I’m sweaty and gross?” he asked.

“In Sawyer’s defense, yes...” she stated, trailing off hesitantly. “But I think it’s probably safe for me to say that since there’s no more room on your lap.”

He growled at her playfully and she scooted closer to Declan, who threw his arm around her protectively. I hated to admit it, especially from where I sat, but they were pretty darn cute.

“His bark is worse than his bite,” Declan assured her.

“Tell that to the girl covered in his sweat,” I muttered. Harry hugged me to him tighter.

“Let the poor girl breathe, Harold,” Declan finally came to my defense.

“Well, you’re no fun,” he frowned, but loosened his grip on me. I fell forward like a prisoner just being released. Harry rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“What time do you guys get this show on the road for real?” I asked.

“Like, eight-thirty tonight.”

“That’s eons away.”

“We can do other festival things in the meantime,” he offered.

“What, like I can take you in public?”

“I’m not that sweaty...”

“I’m referring to you being the headliner tonight, not your sweat, dipshit.”

“I can keep a low profile!” he argued.

“You’ve never kept a low profile a day in your life,” I rolled my eyes.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try...”

Harry moved to stand, offering a hand to me. I eyed it warily before glancing back at Declan and Ashley with an expression as if to ask, “Would you get a load of this?”

They didn’t humor me. Instead, they studied me just as anxiously as I was studying the hand held out in my direction.

“Fine,” I huffed, accepting his palm. He grinned, pulling me up. “But first, go change your clothes.”

–

Harry emerged from his tent fifteen minutes later in a plain white tee shirt and a pair of blue skinny jeans. His hair was flattened beneath a snapback he undoubtedly borrowed from Niall and he wore a pair of Ray-Bans. Snapping his gum, he did a spin.

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re not fooling anyone.”

“I’m literally wearing the most non-descript clothing possible,” he scoffed.

“The tattoos are a dead giveaway.”

“It’s eighty-seven degrees outside, Sawyer. I’m not putting on a trench coat.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, studying him. It was true that it was probably the most incognito Harry ever went, but that didn’t mean it was going to <i>work</i>.

“If I get mobbed, I’m going to be so mad at you,” I warned.

“Good thing I’m practically invisible in this, then,” was his quick response. He grinned cheekily at me and I sighed, turning on my heel toward the general area in which we entered. Harry grabbed my arm when I started to go the wrong way and directed me toward the correct path. He may have been a shit driver, but Harry always knew his way around.

“It’s dead,” I declared, monotone as I took in the empty festival set up around us.

“Well, yeah. They don’t open for another hour.”

“Well what the hell is all this for?” I asked, gesturing to what he was wearing. He shrugged, chomping away at his gum.

“Wanted to prove a point.”

“You’re not proving anything, there’s no one around!” I cried.

“But if there were, I’d be pretty damn hard to spot.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he paid no attention to me.

“C’mon. Let’s get a funnel cake and then we can race through the hall of mirrors.”

“That sounds like the opposite of a good idea.”

Harry frowned, lowering his glasses as he eyed me. “Funnel cake is always a good idea,” he stressed. I couldn’t argue with him there. It was the hall of mirrors I was mostly referring to.

I followed after him as he approached one of the temporary tents set up for food. A bored teenager was engulfed in whatever was on her phone, but at Harry’s approach she immediately put it down. It was obvious from the start that she knew exactly who he was, and Harry grinned at her as he requested a funnel cake. When he pulled out his wallet to pay, she requested a photo instead.

I smirked at Harry as the girl handed me her phone and he huffed, rolling his eyes. Low profile my ass. By the time I’d taken the photo and she’d approved it, the funnel cake was ready. She sprinkled on powdered sugar and lumped some strawberries on it before handing it over to us.

“Not a word,” Harry muttered, handing the plate to me.

“But I have so many,” I countered, plucking a strawberry from the top of the heap and popping it into my mouth.

He bumped me with his hip as we made our way to the hall of mirrors, and I wondered vaguely if this is what life would be like for a while; playful banter, shared funnel cakes, and a little weird. As Harry and I finished eating before racing each other into the fun house, I decided I could live with that.