Hearts Like Ours

Harry eventually became aware yet again of those around him. Charlie was still patiently seated there, waiting for him to make a move. He did and they meandered through the rest of the museum without consequence.

He took in the Jimi Hendrix and Nirvana exhibits, Charlie quietly making comments here and there. She’d seen the exhibits before, though not so recently. She tried to recall what her tour guides had told her in the past from fieldtrips in high school.

“What music are you into? From the past, I mean,” Harry asked as they walked up a flight of stairs to a music mixing lab. Charlie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before answering.

“I like Bob Dylan a lot. The Beatles. James Taylor. All that folky-acoustic stuff.”

“I probably could have guessed that,” he responded with a smirk as they walked on.

“What does that mean?”

“You just have that sort of thoughtful personality.”

Charlie nodded, accepting this as they walked into the lab where multiple small groups of tourists were getting the chance to play chords on electric guitars or try their hand at the drums. Outlining these were small recording booths where you could learn what it was like to mix voices on a track. Harry gravitated there and Charlie followed without comment.

“Come on,” he urged, opening the door for both of them to enter. She hesitated for a moment before obeying.

“Put these on,” Harry instructed, holding the headphones out to her. She shook her head, taking a step back.

“Nope. Absolutely not.”

“Why not? I won’t judge.”

“This is your thing. Besides, I’m the guide. You’re the tourist.”

“You’ll have fun. Relax.”

“You’re not getting me anywhere near that microphone, Harry.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and Charlie bit down on her lip, realizing this may have come out sounding like a challenge. As if reading her thoughts, he attacked, wrapping his arms around her to pick her up. He sat her back on the ground a few inches from the microphone and slipped the headphones on her head while she tried to process exactly what had just happened.

“I don’t know any of these songs,” she whined, looking at the options.

“I’ll help you,” he offered, peeking over her shoulder at the song list.

She was acutely aware of his proximity to her, could feel the heat that radiated from him. Her head tilted up to look at his face as he scanned through the song titles, drinking in his every feature. He was extremely handsome, something she’d always been aware of but was determined to ignore. Now that she was taking a moment to appreciate it, she felt suddenly nervous. A blush crept to the surface of her skin and she promptly turned away, taking the headphones from her head and setting them down. He turned to her as if unsurprised by this small act of rebellion. He surprised her by not arguing, but rather slipping on the headphones and choosing a song for himself.

He’d mistaken her nervousness from his proximity for discomfort at the situation he’d put her in. Immediately he began to feel guilty, which was what prompted him to take the headphones from her rather than forcing her back into them. A faux mixing table was in front of the microphone and Charlie made her way over to it, taking a seat on the stool that sat there as a Rolling Stones song began to play and Harry sucked in a breath to sing.

His eyes focused on the words as he went, though he knew them by heart. He was careful to avoid looking at her, not sure what reaction he was hoping to draw. This had seemed like a good idea until he realized what position he’d put himself in, a successful musician trying to impress a girl in a museum attraction. Did she think he was showing off? Was she about to transform before his eyes from the timid, quiet girl he knew her to be into just another fan in a crowd? What was he even trying to accomplish with this? He felt stupid all of the sudden, focusing only on getting through the song as quickly as possible.

Charlie quietly watched him in amazement. He seemed confident at first, but she read the change in his demenanor as it happened slowly before her eyes. He became suddenly stiffer, less relaxed as he made his way through the song. His voice never waivered, always strong and deep, but he kept his eyes fixed ahead as the words appeared on the screen. It was apparent to her he knew the song well, had no lack of confidence in his abilities, but she was at a loss as for why he’d suddenly shut down when he began to do what he was best at.

The song finally ended and Harry took off the headphones, setting them back on the stand. Hesitantly, he glanced over at where Charlie sat waiting. He was still afraid of her reaction, but she seemed thoughtful as she stood. She tilted her head to the side before deciding to speak.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really talented?” she asked, breaking into a grin. He laughed, running a hand through his hair as he felt himself relax again.

“Once or twice,” he responded as he pushed open the door that led back out to the rest of the exhibit. He paused there, waiting for her.

“Where to now?”

Charlie shrugged in response, crossing her arms over her chest.

“There’s not much more to see, really. We’ve done all the interactive stuff...” she trailed off.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, checking the time on his watch. It was nearly 2, an awkward time for a meal, but he usually skipped breakfast.

“I ate really early this morning, so I could probably go for some food,” she answered. He nodded.

“What’s there to eat around here?”

“There’s a little cafeteria here, or there’s a restaurant in the Space Needle... We can walk a few blocks to some other restaurants.”

“There’s a restaurant in the Space Needle?” he asked, interested. She laughed at his reaction.

“Yeah, but it’s kind of expensive. The kind of place kids make reservations for on prom night.”

“Did you go to prom?”

The question caught her off guard. They had already begun making their way down the stairs, back into the Sky Church toward the lobby to exit the building. A live video of U2 was playing on the screen while the two walked through, careful not to block anyone’s view.

“I went junior year,” she admitted when they hit the lobby. “Less because I had an interest in going, but more so I could tell my kids someday I had went. It was a disaster, actually.”

“How so?”

They were outside now. The rain had stopped, the cloud cover becoming thinner. Harry took note of this as they walked toward the towering landmark and Charlie contemplated her answer.

“I’m not really the kind of girl most guys ask to prom. I’m reserved, aside from my friends, so Allison arranged someone to go with me. I didn’t really know him that well, so everything was awkward all night. He seemed miserable and I felt guilty for it. When senior year rolled around, it was already ruined for me. It’s all over-glorified anyway. The DJ plays shitty music, yet everyone somehow finds a way to grind to it regardless. Definitely not my scene.”

They were rounding the corner, the base of the Space Needle coming into view. Harry paid the admission price and they meandered their way into the lobby giftshop. A small line of people waited outside the elevator and they joined the end.

“You definitely seem like the prom type. Shame you didn’t have the chance to go,” Charlie commented jokingly. He chuckled lightly.

“Maybe,” he allowed. “I like a good party. The movies always made it look like fun.”

“The movies make everything look fun,” Charlie retorted. He narrowed his eyes at her and she shrugged.

“If I asked you to prom, would you go with me?”

The elevator doors opened and a group of tourists crowded on. The line moved up and Charlie used this as a distraction while she tried to think of what to say in response. It was obvious by the way he watched her that he wouldn’t let her wiggle her way out of ignoring the question. She felt the blush from earlier creep back onto her skin and silently cursed herself for not wearing foundation today to make it less noticable.

“Maybe,” she allowed, pursing her lips to show her distaste for the question. He laughed beside her.

“That was a very neutral answer,” he said.

“I don’t know you well enough to say for sure,” she shrugged.

The doors of the elevator opened and the two stepped on with five or six other people, including the elevator operator. She was a short middle-aged woman with a blonde bob. Her voice was bright as she told facts about the Space Needle, but Charlie couldn’t hear her over Harry’s voice in her ear.

“I think we both know the answer to the question, anyway.”

“Oh, do we?” Charlie hummed in response, purposefully seeming disinterested with her arms crossed firmly across her chest, her eyes focused on the woman operating the elevator as she spouted facts.

“You’re already accompanying me to pre-prom dinner, aren’t you?”

She frowned before looking over to him where he stood in the corner, his hands folded in front of him as he bit back a cocky smile. It was his turn to play well-behaved tourist, nodding at the woman as she spoke about how long it had taken to construct the building.

“Lunch,” she corrected lamely. He made a sound in his throat like laughter, but quieter. An elderly lady in the elevator shot him a dirty glare. A moment later, the doors opened to reveal the restaurant. They walked out, pausing while the hostess took names and led the others to their tables.

They were the only two left after the others had been seated and the hostess led them onto the slightly rotating platform where the tables were. Harry nearly tripped and Charlie caught his arm, rolling her eyes as she released him and he smiled sheepishly at her. There were no walls, only windows on the outer circle of the room. Harry let out a low whistle as they took their seat at one of the tables right beside it.

“The room moves 360 degrees every hour,” Charlie informed him as she read through the menu.

His eyes swept over the view. In the distance was Mount Rainier, a hazy fog shrouding its peak. The city stretched out below, the buildings rising and falling like the breaking waves of the Puget Sound he had yet to see up close.

“It’s mesmorizing,” he mumbled quietly to himself.

When he looked back over to Charlie, she was no longer studying the menu. Instead her eyes were on him, a semi-quizical look on her face.

“What?” he asked.

The corners of her lips upturned slightly as she shook her head. She looked back down to the menu, biting her lip. He kept his eyes fixed on her with the knowledge it would provoke some sort of answer to his question if he stared long enough.

“There just aren’t very many people who would choose the word ‘mesmorizing’. It’s just interesting word choice,” she finally stated. He opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the waitress asking for drink orders. Charlie ordered water with a lemon and Harry did the same.

The waitress asked if they needed more time with the menu and Charlie answered yes as she turned back to the options printed in front of her. Harry muttered a thanks to the waitress absently, his eyes transfixed on the blonde sitting opposite him.

Her hair was falling into her face, despite the beanie she wore to hold it back. She kept reaching up to tuck it behind her ear, but the further she leaned forward, the less impact this action had. Her blue eyes darted along the thick cardstock, flickering between her choices. She was fiddling with a ring on her right finger, twirling it absentmindedly as she bit on her lower lip in concentration. It struck him suddenly that in a hoodie and jeans, she wasn’t out to impress anyone, especially him. He supposed that made sense, she’d already compelled him across the ocean with nothing but her words on paper, but he felt somewhat bothered by it.

He was reading too much into it, he was positive, but he couldn’t help letting his mind wander. Harry, being who he was, was so used to girls trying endlessly to impress him, which usually included their clothing choice. Charlie was obviously not to be lumped in a group with these girls, but he felt self-conscious about it. Did she just not care what he thought? Was she simply determined to be indifferent toward him? Did she feel so confident in her appearance that she knew it didn’t matter what she wore? It was true that she was just as attractive in her oversized sweatshirt and denim as she would have been in anything else. Why did he even care what she was wearing? He was being ridiculous and he knew it, but he couldn’t help but want to read into the motives behind her ever choice. What made her tick?

“Harry?”

Charlie’s voice broke through his reverie and he realized the waitress was standing there, waiting on his order. He glanced half-heartedly down at the menu he hadn’t bothered to really look at and ordered a burger, well-done, before handing over his menu. His face flushed as the waitress left the table. He had been caught staring at her and she was studying him suspiciously.

“What was that about?” she asked.

He shrugged, his eyes darting to the window for an escape as he folded his hands on the table. Across from him, Charlie let out an exhasperated sigh and took a sip of her water.

“You’re not giving me much to work with,” she said as she sat down the glass. Harry returned his gaze to her. She was obviously annoyed and he felt instantly guilty. It was true that he hadn’t offered up much of himself to her, too fascinated by the prospect of getting to know her better.

“What do you want to know?”

He lifted his eyes to meet hers, waiting as she collected her thoughts. Her head tilted to one side and she wet her lips before speaking.

“I don’t want this to be another interview for you,” she admitted quietly. His brows shot up at her words. She gauged his reaction before continuing.

“Cam forced me to watch your interviews anyway, so I know the basics, but you still have your guard up. And I understand why you’re guarded. You live in a world where trust is easily misplaced and words are skewed, but I’m not that person. I don’t believe you’d be here if you thought I was that kind of person, so I’d appreciate it if you’d stop treating me like one.”

The waitress arrived at the table, setting down their food. Charlie thanked her before unwrapping her silverware. Harry had yet to make a reply and she began to eat, giving him a moment.

The thought had never occurred to him that his behavior could be construed that way. He’d never shut himself off to her, not intentionally, but he supposed it could be true that it had happened on a subconscious level.

“Where should I start?” he finally asked.

He felt suddenly uncomfortable, too accustomed to the poking and prodding of the reporters, their questions with multiple interpretations. He was too unused to being in charge of the conversation, self-conscious about telling anything without being specifically asked about it. Storytelling wasn’t his strong point, but if that’s what it took to win her trust, he’d have to learn fast. His brief break from stardom was coming to an end and he could feel his time running out.

Charlie’s gaze met his. Curiousity shone through her blue eyes and he felt himself relax. Of course he knew he could trust her, but it was such unfamiliar territory to him. He swallowed back his hesitation as he began to speak, choosing to begin with the tour.