The Love Club

I’ve never felt jet-lag so intense before, and I’ve only been in L.A. for three hours.

Okay, so maybe it’s closer to like, nineteen hours, but I’ve only been conscious for three of those. I partially blame Harry for keeping me awake so late before our flight, and his incessant need for conversation during the flight itself. If he wasn’t making me listen to his favorite songs on his iPod, he was scrolling through Buzzfeed articles about cats or otherwise demanding my attention. I’d always noticed Harry tended to get antsy during flights, but that energy had never been focused solely on me. Usually he and Niall would balance each other out, or he’d otherwise thrust his happy go lucky self upon other crew members. Without the distraction of other people, I was forced to babysit. It was only once we landed that his smile faded.

“What’s up, buttercup?” I’d asked, kicking Harry lightly in the shin. He’d been distractedly staring out the plane window, like a naval widow watching the sea. It was all very soap opera-esque and a bit over the top for the amount of sleep deprivation I’d been dealing with.

“I hate this place,” he said, and then upon registering my look of confusion, “The airport, I mean. It’s always shit. We’ll have to split up.”

“Oh,” I mumbled. “Okay.”

He frowned, running a hand through his hair. His eyes darted this way and that as he tried to think of something to say, but coming up short, he only leaned over to press a kiss to my forehead before standing and stretching.

In retrospect, it hadn’t been too bad. I’d been shuffled to the car by a few members of Harry’s security detail before paparazzi had time to register who I was with. Afterward, Harry followed, lagging behind by ten minutes. He’d flopped into the seat beside me with a heavy sigh. My hand found his moments before we’d pulled into traffic, and I’d traced my thumb across the back of his hand until I felt his muscles relax.

When I awake, it’s in his guest bedroom. Harry, more used to the jet lag, wasn’t nearly as tired as I was when we arrived at his house. He had showed me here and planted a quick kiss on my lips before leaving me to it. Now, I wonder where he is.

The clock on the bedside table says it’s three in the afternoon. Bright California sunlight filters in through the curtains, which are drawn together. I push myself up and stretch my back, twisting this way and that to get the kinks out before I stand. Crossing the room, I pull the curtains aside and peek out the sliding glass door.

Harry’s house here is obnoxiously large. I drew a breath when I’d first glimpsed it from the street, but Harry had made no comment. Instead, he’d only entered the code for the keypad and led the way up the drive, which felt like a hike.

The guest room is across from the main part of the house, connected by a narrow wooden deck that hovers near the pool. Aside from the fantastic view of the canyon all around, his house has its own library and gym. I’ve refrained from commenting.

Parting the curtains, I slide open the glass door and step out onto the deck. It’s hot out, much warmer than the London weather we’ve just left, and the sky is cloudless blue. I bring a hand up to shield the sun from my face as I scan the yard, narrowing my gaze to see if Harry is fussing about in the living room that is visible through a wall of glass. When I don’t immediately find him, I frown and begin to make the trek over there.

The wood is warm beneath my feet as I move, heated by the sun despite the awning. I’m interested to explore this place, but wary of being somewhere Harry might not like me, so I’ll wait for him to give me a tour himself. Beyond that, there’s a rumbling in my stomach and I realize I haven’t eaten since we were on our flight. I wonder what he has in his kitchen, if anything. He isn’t here often, after all, so his food stash might be lacking. I pray for Spaghetti-O’s.

I pass Harry’s room, the picture windows with the curtains drawn in. I hope he isn’t sleeping, because I don’t know how I’ll entertain myself until he wakes. Beside his room is another set of sliding doors that lead to the kitchen, and I make my way in, greeted by cool air and the hum of the refrigerator. Harry still isn’t here, either, and I can’t hear any signs of him rummaging around.

There are no notes to alert me of his absence, but it’s clear he hasn’t been here for a while. The TV isn’t on in the attatched living room, and it looks like nothing has been touched, not a pillow out of place on the couch. When I slowly pull open the door to his room, the bed is unmade but vacant.

I find myself back in the kitchen, stumped. With my back against the island in the middle of the room, I war with myself on what I should do, if it’s okay for me to eat anything. When my stomach gives a loud grumble, I ration Harry would probably call me a doofus and throw whatever food he has here at my face if he were present. And if he wasn’t okay with me eating his food, he’s probably not in the business of having a girlfriend in the first place.

I try not to dwell on that thought.

The refrigerator is bare, which is to be expected. Only a few bottles of various sauces and condiments line the doors. I turn to the cabinets next, running into bowls and frying pans before I finally come across some boxes of instant macaroni and some crackers. They’re probably stale, but my stomach is too empty to wait long enough to cook noodles. I opt for that and grab a bottle of water from the fridge before I trudge back to my room, snacking along the way.

I feel gross from hours of sleeping, and the flight before that. Desperately, I need to take a shower. I grab my things and make for the guest bath after I’ve shoved a sufficient amount of crackers in my mouth to hold me over. I wonder if I can order pizza delivery, if ayone would balk at my answering Harry Styles’ door. It almost seems worth the risk, my mouth waters at the thought of a large veggie pizza and an order of breadsticks.

With all my shower necessities in hand, I move through the guest room to the connected bathroom and begin to unload my things. Stepping out of my clothes, I try to fidget with Harry’s fancy shower buttons to no avail. For a moment I stand there, frowning at the knobs and handles as I try to figure out what to do next. I could just put my clothes back on and wait for Harry to show up again, but I don’t know how long that will take and the thought of it doesn’t sound appealing. My other option is to wrap myself up in a towel and hike over to Harry’s bathroom, hoping beyond all hope that his shower will be a little easier to maneuver.

I sigh, because this option isn’t particularly pleasant, either, but I feel as if I have no choice. With a towel wrapped tightly around my body, I gather my things in my hands again and mentally prepare myself to walk all the way back over to the main part of the house. Opening doors is a slight problem because between my shampoo, conditioner, loofa, body wash, razor, and the fact that I’m simultaneously clutching a towel to my naked body, I’m fresh out of hands. I contemplate this for a moment before I try out my elbow on the handle. It works well enough, but I can’t get it closed again, so I leave it open behind me. Whatever.

I sprint over to the kitchen, sliding that door and leaving it open as well before I walk to Harry’s room and adjoining bathroom. In sheer disappointment, I drop all my things into the tub and let out a grunt of frustration. It’s the same. I wonder what posesses a person to install a NASA control panel in their bathtub when really all you need is a hot and cold and a way to start the shower head.

Now that I’m here, though, I’m not about to turn around and head all the way back. I shut the door and run a hand through my hair, narrowing my eyes at the knobs before I turn one. I look at the shower head expectantly, but it does nothing. When I turn the knob further, cold water pours down on my head from a panel in the ceiling.

A fucking rain panel in the ceiling. Of course he would. Of course.

The water is freezing and I jump back with a scream of surprise. Now that I at least have water in the mix, I need to figure out a way to change the temperature. I touch one of the buttons, but this only turns on a light panel and I almost turn around, find my phone, and call Harry to give him a piece of my mind, but I don’t want the shower to think it’s won. So I punch the same button to turn off the mood lighting and try one of the spindle knobs. There’s a slight change in the temperature from freezing to ice, and when I turn it in the opposite direction, it gets warmer. With a fist pump of celebration, I move my things out of the way and finally finally immerse myself under the water.

It’s so gratifying that when I’ve finished washing my hair and lathering up my body, I can’t find the motivation to get out. I even take my time shaving my legs, my least favorite part of showering. Take that, fancy water buttons.

When I’m finished, I run the towel through my hair before wrapping it back around my body. I feel a million times better, my hair soft and damp and my limbs a pink color from the heat of the water. I hate to admit that I loved the rain panel once I was under it for a while, and I look forward to taking many more showers beneath it now that I know how to properly use it.

I decide to come back for my things after I’ve dried off and changed back into my clothes. Blissed out, my feet sink into the plush carpet of Harry’s room as I push open his door and step into the kitchen, which has an open floor leading to the living room. The same living room occupied by three people, all staring at me with over-large eyes.

Well, shit.

I’m at a loss as to what to do as I scan the room, one man and woman, and Harry who is mid hand-gesture, apparently telling a story. The conversation has halted as they all look over at me, and I blink before suddenly realizing I’m standing in a towel, naked. Just as quickly, I turn back to Harry’s room and shut the door behind me, speechless.

My heart is racing and my face is red from embarrassment. I hear Harry say something before his footsteps can be heard approaching the room. He tentatively pokes his head in, and upon seeing me, enters.

“What the hell?” I demand, reaching out a hand to smack him hard on the arm.

“What?” he responds, just as baffled.

“You were gone! And then you weren’t and there are people here and I’m naked!”

“You’re not naked,” Harry rolls his eyes, but when they settle on me again, I don’t miss them flickering down to the towel I clutch to my chest. It’s much shorter than I’d prefer and I glare at him when he grins unabashedly back at me. “I texted you, I thought you’d look at your mobile when you got up.”

I frown. This makes sense, but my phone was the last thing on my mind when I turned over in bed groggy and sweaty. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, rubbing my eyes with one hand while the other takes care to keep the towel safe around my body.

“Well I can’t just go back out there if there are people here,” I mutter.

“Not that I’m opposed to this look, but can’t you just put on some clothes?”

“I don’t have any,” I growl, letting my hand drop to show him my narrowed stare. “They’re all in the guest room.”

Harry shakes his head to himself before he sighs and moves past me toward a large mahogany dresser. He pulls out a pair of sweats and a tee shirt, not unlike the ones I slept in while we were in Cheshire.

“Why are you showering in here anyway?” he asks. When I bite down on my lip, he hastily adds, “I don’t mind, I’m just curious.”

“I warred with the shower panel in my bathroom and hoped yours was simpler. When it wasn’t, I had to make do.”

He doesn’t comment, but I know he’s amused by this information. I can see it in his eyes as he hands me his clothes and I thank him quietly before trudging back to the bathroom and pulling them on. When I emerge again, he’s still there, sitting on his bed.

“Thank you,” I say.

Harry only smiles and stretches out a hand. I take it warily and he pulls me down to him, lips landing softly on mine.

“Good morning,” he mumbles against my lips, and I laugh.

“Good evening,” I answer.

“We went out for dinner, but I brought you back some food. I thought you’d be hungry.”

“That might have been the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” I reply with a grin, and he playfully shoves me away. I stand again with another laugh and run a hand through my drying hair. “I suppose I’ll appetize dinner by swallowing my pride and find a way to walk out there,” I sigh, gesturing to the doorway where Harry’s guests wait.

“Well, it’s not like I didn’t tell them you were here. That would have been infinitely more awkward,” Harry jokes, but I only roll my eyes as I walk outside through his sliding door and walk back over to the guest suite.

Not that Harry’s clothes aren’t comfortable, but I think it would only be appropriate to wear something of my own when meeting friends of his for the first time. On top of that, I’ve just woken up from a sixteen-hour nap, so some make-up might be in order.

I dig around in my still unpacked bag until I find a pair of printed cotton shorts and a tank top to wear with it. The weather has me sweating and I’m all for comfort at this point in time. Once I’ve changed into that, I get to work on the mess that is my face before I deem myself presentable enough and head back over to the living room.

The group in the living room has settled into another conversation, everyone’s eyes only flickering to me for a moment as I rejoin them. Harry scoots over on the couch to make room for me and I thank him silently with a smile, settling into the space beside him. His arm stretches out behind my shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to do. He’s telling the story of how Liam got locked out of the hotel one night with a horde of fans and had to take a photo with each one before they allowed him anywhere near the doors. The people I still don’t know the names of nod and laugh.

The man is obviously a few years older than Harry and I, and the woman beside him around the same age. He has dark hair to contrast her carmel, and though neither of them are touching, their extreme ease around one another suggests they’re together. Their eyes flicker to me in curiousity and I wonder who they are.

“Are you going to introduce us, Harry?” the woman inquires, and Harry pauses mid-sentence.

“Oh, right. Yeah,” he says, more to himself than anything. “Mina, this is my mate Jeff and his girlfriend Glenne.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say with a shy wave.

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” Jeff responds, and I glance over at Harry to see that he’s blushing. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him do that and I can’t help but grin.

Harry quickly recovers by launching into another story, probably to keep me from feeling so smug. It’s to no avail, and I spend the next ten minutes smirking in satisfaction while he avoids my gaze. When he wraps that story, Glenne sets her sights back on me.

“So how much alcohol consumption happened while you were on tour with these dudes for months on end?” she asks jokingly.

“Not enough, I can assure you,” I respond. Harry chooses not to make a comment as he rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“It’s insane, though, right? Like even being sort of apart from it?”

“I hadn’t left England except to visit family in Nebraska before that, so it was an adjustment for sure.”

“What posessed you to go?” she asks.

I bite down on my lip, tilting my head to one side. I can’t really say for certain. Now that I’m thinking about it, my intial reluctance to go and the fact that I didn’t need the pay, I think it must have been a pull in Harry’s direction. I didn’t know it at the time, but my surprise acceptance of Niall’s offer must have been my weird ability telling me I needed to take a chance. Looking over at Harry, who watches me with a patient green stare, I’m glad.

“I didn’t realize it then, but I guess I was sort of stuck in a rut. I was working endlessly and I didn’t have many friends. I didn’t really want to do it at first, but then I thought it might be an opportunity for something new. I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m sure Harry is, too,” Jeff chimes in.

“I know when I first met Jeff, I thought he was such an imbecile. I can only imagine what ran through your mind when you met this doof,” Glenne jokes.

“I don’t think she liked me much,” Harry finally speaks up.

“That’s not true,” I frown.

“You didn’t even want to talk to me!” he argues with a laugh.

“I was freaking out about tour and the task at hand,” I tell him. “You were bugging me.”

Jeff lets out a raucous bark of laughter at that and Glenne sucks her lips into her mouth to hide a smile. Harry blinks at me, then says, “So what changed your mind?”

It’s an interesting question, and it seems to have piqued the interest of everyone else in the room as well, including myself. I don’t think there was one thing in particular that did, besides his persistence and natural tendency to check in on me. I try to pin point it, but there’s nothing I can remember that really stands out as the moment I really fell for him. It sort of happened progressively, slowly developing until I woke up one day and it was there. I couldn’t deny it anymore.

I shrug noncomittally. “You always had good intentions. Even when you were annoying, it was sort of endearing. I probably would have liked you more if you hadn’t hired me to be your matchmaker,” I say, flicking his forehead with the last sentence.

“Party foul,” Jeff agrees with a sigh.

“I always had good intentions,” Harry smirks, catching my hand before I can inflict any more physical damage.

“What are you guys planning on doing while you’re down here?” Jeff intervenes.

I look to Harry, who tugs at his curls almost nervously. After a moment, he lets out a breath and shrugs.

“I haven’t really thought it through too far. We’ll have to be sort of lowkey about anything we do. I don’t want things to get too crazy.”

“You can’t put her in a bubble,” Glenne argues.

I give Harry a pointed look which he promptly ignores.

“We’ll figure something out,” he says with a finality that no one questions.

“Why don’t you come do something with me?” Glenne suggests a few moments later, apparently determined not to let Harry’s discouragement stop her. “You can get out of the house, actually see a little bit of the town. We’ll be tourists, it’ll be great.”

I think this over for a moment, eyes flickering over to Harry. I don’t know if he had anything planned, or if he truly is planning on keeping me held hostage here in his house until we leave for Toronto. His carefully put together facial expression leads me to believe it might be the latter.

“That sounds great,” I agree.

“Awesome. I can pick you up tomorrow morning.”

I feel relieved to have plans with someone, to spend some time exploring a city that means so much to Harry. When I look over to him again, the humor that had previously been on his face is gone. In its place is a neutral expression foreign to his features. I wonder how it got there.

-

There’s a stillness in the house that is new and unsettling. Jeff and Glenne left a few minutes ago after an hour or two more of conversation. Harry’s mood never returned to what it was before, but before I could ask what was bothering him, he disappeared into his room under the premise of taking a shower.

In the meantime, I heat up the food Harry brought home for me. I can’t help the grin that takes over my face when I see it’s grilled salmon over rice pilaf. He hates seafood.

I practically inhale it the moment I pull it from the microwave, overcome with hunger but having been too polite to excuse myself to eat. After a while, my hunger became sort of numb to a point where I could ignore it for a bit in favor of conversation. With the disappearance of those around me, it returned with a vengeance.

I’m in the process of putting the empty plate in the sink when I hear Harry rustling about in his room. It’s past midnight now and I’m sure he’s exhausted. Instead of waiting for him to make a return back into the living room, I knock on his door. He mutters a response for me to come in and I take a step forward, watching as he slides under the sheets of his bed, hair wet and dark from the shower.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yeah,” he replies absently, setting an alarm on his bedside table. I watch him fidget with the settings before he reclines back in his bed. I’m not sure if I’m expecting an invitation or not, but I do know I don’t like whatever awkward tension is between us.

“I’ll just... I’ll be in the guest room, then.”

I turn to go, but Harry says something that has me pausing in my steps. “Might be better if my snoring keeps you awake. Glenne will be by early.”

I don’t know why the comment is so unsettling. It feels sort of like an attack and I turn to look back at him. He’s reaching for the light, but he hasn’t flicked off the lamp yet.

“Are you seriously upset that I’m going out with Glenne tomorrow?” I ask incredulously.

“No, I want you to get along with my friends. It’s fine.”

“Clearly it isn’t,” I point out, hands folding over my chest. Harry’s arm has dropped from where it was reaching for the lamp.

“It’s fine. Have fun. Goodnight.”

“Don’t you dare,” I growl between clenched teeth. Harry’s brows shoot up, surprised by my sudden fervor. I’ve never argued with him before, but it’s rising to the surface now like it’s been there, waiting for an opportunity. “You don’t get to fly me out here for your own enjoyment and lock me up in your house just because you’re the one who’s scared about this getting out to the public. I’m a person, Harry. I’m not here to be played with and then left alone when you have better things to do.”

I watch his brows furrow together, his chest turn red with anger, but just as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone. He’s not looking at me anymore; maybe he can’t because he knows I have a point. I’m nearly incapable of believing Harry is the kind of guy who would do something like this to me; be bitter over me being available to anyone who isn’t exclusively him. Something isn’t right here, and I have the feeling I’m not getting the whole picture.

As he visibly calms down more, I do, too. There’s something tugging me toward him and I follow it mindlessly to sit down near his feet on the mattress. He still won’t look at me, but his face has softened.

“What’s really bothering you?” I ask. “Because I have a hard time believing it’s that.”

Harry sucks in a breath and runs his hand through his curls. His lip is red and swollen from being taken between his teeth. After a few more moments of silence, I reach forward for his hand and take it in mine. Absently his fingers curl around mine, interlocking.

“Sometimes I wish things were simpler,” he finally says. “Now is one of those times.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just wish I could do things like this with you,” he sighs. “I wish I could show you the city and we could do tourist-y things. I wish we could take pictures with Mr. Incredible on Hollywood boulevard or just get a smoothie or something without it being this huge deal.”

I see now this has nothing to do with me. It’s all on him.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal,” I begin, but he stops me.

“You haven’t dealt with it before. It’s awful, Mina. I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to this,” he says, gesturing to the space between us, our fingers entwined. “It’s too soon to lose it all.”

“I see where you’re coming from, but I promise you it won’t be the end of the world. I-“

I cut myself short, because I’m about to say it, and I can’t. I know it deep in my heart, in the pit of my stomach, in the soles of my feet that I love him. But it’s too early to tell him without properly freaking him out, and I hold my secret tightly to my chest, cradled safely beneath my ribs.

“I like you too much. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

Harry finally smiles a little and pulls on my hand. I oblige, sitting up on my knees to fall into the space in the bed beside him.

“I don’t want to,” he murmurs.

“Then we’ll find some middle ground,” I declare easily. “If you want it to work, you find a way to make it work. We’ll make it work.”

“Mmmm,” he hums tiredly. I know I’m losing him.

“You can’t keep internalizing this, though. This isn’t your fault and I don’t blame you, so you’re not allowed to either. I know the circumstances, I made my choice anyway. Stop trying so hard to talk me out of it and push me away.”

I can feel Harry’s head moving in a nod on the pillow in the space behind me. He sighs softly, and I know he’s gone. After a moment, I reach for the light and turn it off myself.