Hearts Like Ours

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nervous. He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed his reflection in the mirror. He wore a pair of dark skinny jeans, the ones without the hole on the knee, and a patterned button up shirt. It had been a while since he’d had dinner with a girl’s family and he was much too aware of himself for comfort. It was a fine line between being dressed well enough to make a good impression, and being too formal for dinner. He wondered vaguely if this was what girls felt like all the time. One time too many, he’d caught himself in the process of calling his stylist for advice, but hung up before it actually began to ring. He was being ridiculous.

It had been a rather uneventful Sunday. Charlie hadn’t called or texted, beside a brief message that read she’d be at his hotel sometime around five o’clock so they could walk to her house from there. Though they had interacted in the arcade the night before, he couldn’t help the biting nervousness that overtook him. He feared he’d overstepped his boundaries when he’d tried to kiss her, and despite the fact that they hadn’t really discussed it and agreed it would be ignored, she was weirded out by it. Rightfully so, he couldn’t help but think.

They had known each other for a week, and though he felt he knew her longer, the feeling wasn’t mutual. She still knew next to nothing of what life was like for him, had never been to his home country or even met his family. She hadn’t asked of the band or tour life, which at first was a nice change of pace, but he now realized they were integral parts of what made up his reality. To truly know him, he would at some point have to share these things with her.

As if through some bizarre telepathic link, his phone began to ring.

He turned from the mirror and walked the length of the hotel room to his phone, laying upside down on the messy sheets of his bed. Picking it up, he read Niall’s name on the caller ID and smiled.

“Harry!” came the overjoyed voice on the other end of the line. A chorus repeated his exclamation and he realized he was on speaker, the other boys present.

“How’s Seattle?” Liam’s baritone voice asked.

Something Harry had always admired about Liam was how truly caring he was. When he asked a question, it was something he was honestly interested in hearing the answer to, as opposed to polite chatter that was typical of the other lads. He always knew when Liam asked him something, he wasn’t doing so as a way to talk about his own life; he was genuinely curious. He felt an aching in his chest for the boys he’d left behind in a country half a world away.

“Seattle’s nice. It’s an interesting city,” he replied as he sat down on his bed.

“Is it nice, Harry? Interesting city?” came Louis’ teasing tone. A moment later he heard him exhale a huff and knew someone had hit him.

“What about your girl?” Zayn asked.

“She’s…” he began, trailing off as he thought over how to end that sentence. A moment of silence passed through the line.

“That good, eh?” Niall said with a laugh. Harry joined in with a nervous chuckle.

“She’s great.”

“Is it what you thought it would be?” Liam asked.

Harry hesitated a heartbeat before deciding to respond truthfully.

“Better.”

Someone let out a whistle. The sound was followed by a few laughs, and from the noise in the background, he knew Zayn was wrestling with Louis.

“I’m only joking!” Louis cried in defense. Harry grinned, appreciating both Louis’ teasing manner and Zayn’s immediate defense of his more romantic side.

“You’re pulling all the stops then?” Niall’s voice spoke over the background chaos.

Harry lifted a hand to his face, running it over his features but unable to prevent the dopey grin he was wearing. It was moments like this that he realized how much his band meant to him, that their friendship went deeper than living and working together for eleven out of twelve months in a year. A moment later, he let out a sigh as he responded.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had to, honestly. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Buy her something,” came Louis’ immediate response. Harry chuckled.

“She’s not that kind of girl, mate.”

“What kind of girl is she?” Niall questioned.

Harry promptly fell backward onto the bed. Checking the alarm clock, he knew he had about a half hour more until Charlie arrived. He was unsure of how much time his bandmates had to talk to him, but refused to be the one to end the conversation. It was too nice to hear their voices.

“She’s simpler than that. The happiest I’ve seen her was last night when we played laser tag with some friends of hers. On our way there, we had the windows down and she was singing along to the music and it was the most relaxed she had ever been around me. She hasn’t asked me about tour or any of you guys because that doesn’t matter to her.”

There was a slight pause when Harry finished.

“She doesn’t ask about us? I’m hurt.”

Louis’ comment earned another punch from Zayn. Harry rolled his eyes.

“If she’s more into experiences than material objects, then take her someplace cool,” Zayn suggested.

“Like where?”

“You said she’s into music. You could take her to a concert,” he suggested. Harry could practically hear his shrug over the phone, as if romantic gestures were so obvious to him. He opened his mouth to make a response, but no words passed his lips as he remembered the conversation Cam and Charlie had had the evening prior. He pursed his lips as he considred this. Finally, he was able to make a response.

“Zayn, you’re a genius.”

“I try,” came Zayn’s response.

“As much as I love hearing about this mistress of yours, Harry, we have to get going,” Louis told him. He half-smiled, sitting up again as he bade goodbye to his bandmates, promising to see them in a week.

The moment he hung up the phone, he pulled his laptop out, sitting cross-legged (or as cross-legged as he could in skinny jeans) as he pulled up Google and made a search. A heartbeat later and he was pulling out his wallet, typing in his credit card information to procure tickets. He smiled triumphantly when he finished and closed his computer just as a knocking came on his door. Glancing at the time, he realized it was five o’clock already.

Pausing for a moment by the mirror to check his appearance, he reached out and pulled open the door. Charlie peered up at him from beneath long lashes.

“Hi,” she greeted him shyly. He grinned.

“Hi.”

He stepped out of the room and into the hall, closing the door behind him. She moved aside to make space for him beside her in the hallway before he led the way to the back stairwell, which would serve as a hidden exit from the crowd of girls still camping outside.

They didn’t make small talk as they walked, not yet anyway. Charlie was surveying the area around her, her eyes scanning up and down the halls as if the closed doors would offer any sort of inishg to the people who were shut in behind them. Curiosity was getting the better of her and Harry didn’t mind slowing his pace to keep in step with her.

She wore a casual dress and flats, an unbuttoned cardigan losely fitting her small frame. A yellow umbrella was held in her right hand, a clutch tucked beneath her arm. Her hair fell in loose waves beyond her shoulders. As she wondered absently beside him, her arms swung at her sides. A moment later, she looked up to his watching gaze. Harry’s face flushed and he promptly averted his eyes elsewhere.

“What did you do with your day?” Harry asked, holding the door to the stairwell open. She passed by him with a whisper of thanks and waited for him after her.

“I had some homework to catch up on for my classes tomorrow,” she shrugged. Harry nodded. He’d almost forgotten she was in university.

“What’s your major?”

“Graphic design. I mostly want to do layouts for print.”

“Like magazines?”

“Exactly,” she replied with a smile.

Their footsteps echoed loudly in the stairwell. Charlie was moving quicker now, but whether it was because of her stifled curiosity from the hallway or the muggy heat trapped in the small space, he couldn’t tell. A few moments later, Charlie pushed open the door leading outside, stepping onto the pavement and promptly unfolding her yellow umbrella. She was baffled a heartbeat later when it was taken from her grasp. Turning, she faced Harry with her umbrella in his hand. He was smiling amusedly at her.

“I’m taller,” he explained, his eyes shifting up to the umbrella as if to prove his point. She rolled her eyes, but said nothing as they began to walk toward an alley that led to a street. The rain was beating steadily against the nylon of the umbrella, but Charlie felt none of the moisture. Harry kept the umbrella steady above them as they walked closely together, despite the wind that threatened to carry it away.

“So what did you do with your day?” she questioned.

“Slept in late and watched a few documentaries on Netflix. The boys called and I caught up with them for a few minutes.”

“The band?” she asked.

He nodded, sucking his lower lip between his teeth as he walked.

“Do you miss them?”

Harry chuckled.

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Charlie raised her eyebrows at him and he felt the need to elaborate. He shoved his free hand down into his pocket as he began to talk.

“It’s just that I spend so much time with them, you’d think it would be a relief to get away. It’s not though; they’re like family. I miss them when I’m away, too.”

She nodded her reply and a comfortable silence fell over them. Charlie led the way, tugging lightly on Harry’s arm whenever he attempted to go in the wrong direction. The rain was getting heavier as the sun began to set behind the heavy gray clouds. In the distance, a roll of thunder sounded. After a few moments, Charlie couldn’t help but break the quiet.

“What are they like?”

Harry turned his head to look at her, somewhat surprised by her question. He half-smiled at her, wetting his lips before he made a response.

“They’re my best mates. It’s nice to have people on the road who can relate to you when things get crazy.”

“You guys don’t get tired of each other?”

They were rounding a corner into a residential area now. Charlie’s eyes were fixed ahead, but they occasionally flickered to him as they walked side by side. It was the first she’d ever inquired about this part of his life and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He decided to answer truthfully.

“Of course we do, but we get over it. It’s kind of like living with brothers. We’re stuck with each other, so we make the most of it.”

“Who do you get along with the best?” she asked.

Harry side-eyed her, half-smiling. She looked up to meet his gaze and smiled sheepishly.

“You’re inquisitive today,” he remarked. A blush crept to her face as she shrugged noncommittally.

“You don’t have to answer me. It’s just something we haven’t discussed yet and I know it’s the most important part of your life.”

“I don’t mind, I’m just curious as to why you’re bringing it up now,” he told her.

“It seems appropriate,” she answered, slowing her pace as they neared a two-story brick house. The lawn was large and immaculate. Trees lined the long walkway to the front door and a short wall of shrubs grew in the flowerbeds along the front of the house. Ivy was crawling up along the bricks, giving indication to the age of the house. It wasn’t boastfully large, but what it lacked in size it made up for in elegance. A glass sunroom attached to the left side was lit and from the sidewalk, Harry could make out a set dinner table. The windows were cracked open enough to let a breeze in, but not enough to allow the rain free access. He marveled at it for a few moments as Charlie gathered her words.

“This past week I didn’t bring it up because I didn’t want you to think it was my main concern. I was trying to figure you out. But now I realize I went about it wrong. I shouldn’t have been focusing on figuring you out, because that’s impossible. I should have been trying to get to know who you are, like you’ve been doing for me. Your band is a big part of that, so I decided to ask about it.”

They had stopped half-way up the path to the front door. Harry still held the umbrella above them, but the trees blocked most of the rainfall. As he stood there looking at her and she did the same, he was acutely aware of his surroundings, his senses temporarily heightened as a rush of adrenaline took over and he fought the urge to again reach out and try to kiss her. Now wasn’t the right time, but he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to.

The rain was falling steadily, softly beating a rhythmic sound as it hit the autumn leaves, which in turn gave way and allowed the raindrops to pitter-patter against the nylon umbrella. The air felt heavy around them, humid and cool against the back of his neck. The air was salty-smelling, yet fresh as the downpour watered the greenery on her front lawn. He searched his mind frantically for something to say, but he was too far lost in the dark, cool blue of her eyes.

“Are you two going to stand in the rain all night or should I finish cooking dinner?”

The voice broke through their microcosm of a world, there beneath the awning of trees. Harry’s eyes set upon the figure of Charlie’s mom standing in the doorway, poking her head out tentatively. Charlie had been startled by the sound of her mother’s voice and she’d jumped as she turned to look.

The door was only cracked partially, which explained why Harry hadn’t noticed her sudden appearance. A flood of light was cast onto the front steps, trickling down onto the sidewalk. Charlie started in that direction and Harry reached his hand out in order to shield her from the rain. His hand followed her before his body did and a torrent of rain promptly fell upon his head. He shivered at the sensation, hurrying after her and the shelter of the umbrella, which was no longer needed once they reached the front door. He closed it as he tentatively took a step into the warmth of the house. Charlie took it wordlessly and set it against the doorframe as she stepped out of her shoes.

“You’re wet,” she frowned. “Let me grab you a towel.”

“No need,” her mom replied from another room. A second later, she was beneath an archway that led to what Harry assumed was the kitchen, a towel in hand. She tossed it in his direction and he caught it before it landed on his chest. He smiled a thank you and lifted it to his hair, running it over his damp curls. After wiping some of the excess water from his collar, he looked down at the towel as if deciding what to do with it. Charlie took it from his hand, folding it over her arm as she surveyed him.

“Here…”

She reached forward, her fingertips brushing against his scalp as she adjusted a fragment of his hair. He froze as she worked. A delayed heartbeat later, she stepped away, smiling softly.

“Perfect,” she said quietly, then cleared her throat as if she hadn’t meant to be so soft spoken. She turned away, making her way to the archway where her mother had stood a moment earlier. He followed behind her into the kitchen.

The room was brightly lit from above by various hanging lamps with patterns on the stained glass coverings. The kitchen had a vaguely Spanish influence, exemplified by the orange floor tiles and vibrant Mexican artwork hung on the walls. The dining room was visible, just beyond an island that cut what would have been one room into two. On the far side of the kitchen, a glass sliding door was left open to allow access to the sunroom he’d seen from the sidewalk.

“I wasn’t sure what kind of food you like, Harry, so I played it safe and just made fettuccine alfredo. I hope that’s okay,” Charlie’s mom said from where she stood at the stove.

“I’ll eat whatever you put on my plate, Mrs. Dupont,” Harry replied with a laugh. She sent him a smile over her shoulder.

“There’s shrimp, too, if you want to add it,” a masculine voice filled the room. Turning, Harry’s eyes fell upon Charlie’s dad. He had no longer entered the room before engulfing his daughter in a tight hug, his large hand entangling with her blonde hair. When they pulled away, both parties were smiling. A moment later, he offered his hand to Harry, who accepted it with a firm shake.

“Nice to see you again,” he told Harry with a pat on the back. Charlie watched amusedly as she leaned against a counter near the sink, her arms folded over her chest.

“You as well, sir,” Harry answered. He caught Charlie’s eye-roll at his overt politeness, but chose to ignore it.

“Charlize, honey, will you help carry some of the food out to the sunroom?”

Charlie sighed as she pushed herself up from the counter at her mother’s words. She took a salad bowl in one hand and a basket of breadsticks in another, carefully stepping around Harry as she headed toward the table her mom had indicated. Without her presence, he felt utterly alone and unsure of what to do with himself.

“Is there anything I can help with, Mrs. Dupont?” he implored.

“Absolutely not,” came her immediate response. At this, Charlie’s dad offered a smile before beginning in the direction his daughter had went. Charlie was on her way back in, the two passing each other just beyond the doorway. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as her eyes flickered over to meet his.

“The glasses are all set up, Charlize, but can you grab the wine? I have a pitcher of water in the fridge that needs to be brought out, too...”

Charlie started in the direction of the stainless steel refrigerator, but Harry was quicker and closer. He had the pitcher of water in his hand and was reaching for the bottle of wine before Charlie had taken a step.

“Charlize, take those from him,” her mom hissed. Charlie laughed instead, shaking her head as Harry slipped past her, making a break for the sunroom.

“No point in trying, mom,” he heard her say behind him. He grinned, setting the drinks on the table.

Charlie’s father was sitting at one end of the table already, scrutinizing the screen of his iPhone. So as not to disturb him, he turned on his heel to head back into the kitchen and offer more help, but his exit was blocked. Charlie was stepping down into the room with a plate full of cooked shrimp in her hands. Wordlessly, he took it from her and set it down. She didn’t bother arguing, but rather took her seat at the table just as her mother entered with a bowl of pasta.

An internal battle raged within him on whether or not to take the plate from her, but it was obvious from the determined look on her face that she wouldn’t allow him to be of any more help to her. Instead, he pulled out her chair for her and she thanked him earnestly before taking her seat. He was the last one to sit, sheepishly grinning across the table at Charlie, who was staring at him with a wry expression on her face.

“We’re going to say a blessing now,” Charlie’s father informed him, and Harry nodded in response. Each member of the table bowed their head, and he followed in suit.

“Lord, we thank you for this meal we’re about to eat and for bringing together our family. We thank you for the gift of our company this evening and for all other blessings you’ve bestowed in our life. We ask you to bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, and our bodies to your service. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Harry lifted his head, his gaze immediately on Charlie as if this would give him some sort of insight as to what to do now. She was too busy unloading salad onto her plate to notice. To his left, Charlie’s father was spooning fettuccine onto his plate. On the right, her mother was removing the towel from over the breadsticks. She lifted two from the basket and set it on his plate before grabbing one for herself. He thanked her quietly before accepting the bowl of salad Charlie was holding out to him.

All was quiet beside the scraping of silverware on plates. Charlie’s father had poured wine in each of their glasses, a little less in both his and Charlie’s cups as opposed to their own.

“Do you drink much, Harry?” he asked.

“Dad,” Charlie warned. Her father ignored her, his eyes fixing on Harry.

“I can legally in England, but I don’t do much of it, honestly,” he replied.

“Why not?” he asked. Charlie opened her mouth to protest again, but a glance from her father cut her off. She looked over to him apologetically, but he shook his head to indicate he wasn’t offended.

“I think some moments in life are too precious to risk losing to a drink.”

Charlie tilted her head at this thoughtfully, though her expression indicated her disbelief. He winked at her and she snorted quietly. It was true that he didn’t base too much of his life on partying, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened once or twice.

Or more.

But he’d learned his lesson about public drunkeness at the Brit awards, and for the most part his statement held true. For the intents and purposes of impressing Charlie’s parents, it would uphold, even if Charlie knew better.

“So how did you meet Charlize?”

The question came from Charlie’s mother, an obvious attempt to change the subject, despite the fact that she was still smiling in approval of his response. Harry bit down on his lip, his eyes finding Charlie’s. She raised her eyebrows at him, impaling a piece of shrimp with her fork before popping it in her mouth. It was obvious he was on his own with this one. He cleared his throat, trying to decide whether or not it was better to lie or tell the truth.

“I found something of hers and tracked her down to return it,” he said, deciding on a half-truth. Charlie didn’t look up at him, but he could see the slight upturn of her lips.

“That sounds like the beginning of a romance,” she commented.

“Mom,” Charlie groaned. Harry let out a nervous laugh as her mother shrugged innocently in response. Charlie’s face was reddening and she didn’t dare attempt a glance in his direction, instead keeping her eyes downcast on her plate of pasta.

“So what about your band, then?” her father asked. Charlie let out a breath of relief as her dad came to her rescue. “What’s that like?”

It was a difficult question to answer for a number of reasons, the biggest one being the impossibility of the task to encompass what his band and their success really meant. The other was the multiple meanings in which that question could be interpreted.

He mulled this over as he took a bite out of a breadstick. A prick at the back of his neck made him feel as if he was being watched and he looked up to meet Charlie’s inquisitive stare. He remembered how curious she had been on the sidewalk, the admittance that she had been approaching him wrong and was ready to really get to know him. Now was his moment to do that, to tell her more about himself.

With this in mind, he opened his mouth and began to launch into a subject that he’d initially felt uncomfortable with discussing around Charlie, but now so desperately wanted to share with her. It seemed there was no end to what information he’d divulge to her about himself if she asked. It was a feeling both unfamiliar and exhilerating.