Flour.

“Harry, this a big deal.”

“I know. I just don’t think I need to practice this song a million more times between today and tomorrow night.” Harry said, raising his hands in defense as Kenneth, one of the executives from his promotion company sighed with his arms crossed.

“You’ve got a lot riding on this. Good press will boost your album sales, and we can schedule more TV appearances, more magazine features and interviews. The more you make, the more you can tour. Then we can tour places you don’t normally get to go to-“

“Alright, alright, I get it, Kenneth.” Harry said, running a finger through his hair. “We’ll run through it again.” He said, rolling his eyes and counting off before the piano began of his first single off from his new record. After practicing for another hour, Harry and his backing band called it quits for the night.

Harry sat back and watched as everybody packed up their belongings and headed back to their hotel rooms or apartments. One guitarist invited him to get some dinner, but Harry turned him down, telling him he was going to order something later. He looked around the venue with a smile, it was much smaller and way more intimate than any place he ever preformed with One Direction. There was an obscene amount of pressure that came attached to the role of becoming a solo musician, after leaving an extremely well known group. Yet all along, this is exactly what Harry had hoped for. He had nothing but respect for his time in a boy band, but moving forward and having creative power is what he craved from early on. He grabbed his things and headed out, his bodyguard Steve following closely behind him.

Harry’s promotion team, label executives and various other stakeholders were putting a lot of pressure into making sure this performance went well for him tomorrow.

“Can we stop somewhere?” He asked the driver, as he climbed into the backseat of the black Land Rover. “A bakery called Flour, in Manhattan.” He said, reading off the address from his phone. “Anna, my assistant told me about this place. Said they have authentic French dessert and bread. Haven’t had any of that in a while.” His driver nodded and took off. Harry figured if this was the place that was providing cupcakes for his event, he’d like to try it out beforehand. He had spent most of the day practicing for the show tomorrow, stopping only for a lunch break. He understood how much work was put into this show, but was confident in the fact the show would go well. Having a pre-established fan base was beneficial in initial album sales. But what mattered the most to Harry was the long lasting effect the album would have on listeners. He did not want to just be a phase, or just the mildly successful album from a washed up pop star. He wanted an impact. Become a name who was known for good music, rather than just his good looks or time spent in a boy band. Ever since his decision to continue to pursue music after One Direction broke up, resulted in a lot of critique. It was hard to write a personal album, after having every single move be so deeply analyzed by the press. Harry had spent the last seven years in the spotlight, not something most people his age would be familiar with.

He was drawn from his thoughts when the car came to a stop outside of a modest brick building, with the white lit up marquee that read “Flour” in a cursive font. Through the huge windows that lined the front of the store, it was practically empty. An elderly couple sat at a table in the corner and the shelves that were visible from the car were half cleared out. That confirmed the fact this was the place was a new trendy restaurant. Anna claimed it was one of the most popular, and only getting good reviews and press. She said herself she had the best cake in her entire life at this place. The stickers on the door said the shop was due too close in less than an hour.

Harry climbed out of the car, his bodyguard trailing behind him, glancing up and down the street before stepping through the threshold. The street was rather empty for a Friday night; most people must be at dinner. Flour was located on a street full of other restaurants and small boutiques. Everything in the interior of the bakery was either white, natural wood, brick or a light shade of blue and grey. Everything was clean and open. The counter tops were light grey in color, and there was a huge display case that took up the majority of the counter along with a shelf behind it that housed loaves of fresh bread. There were various green plants and succulents scattered throughout the bakery. Each table had three to five chairs around it.

“Hi, is there anything I can get for you?” A girl with blonde hair asked from behind the counter. She had her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Her apron was covered in stains and had traces of flour lingering all over it. She had dark circles under her eyes, and a tired smile plastered onto her lips. Under her apron Harry could make out the faded and familiar logo of one of everybody’s favorite bands, The Rolling Stones on her tee shirt. “Sadly, you’ve hit the end of the day batch. We’re out of a whole bunch of stuff, but we’ll have all fresh stuff tomorrow morning if you are an early bird.”

“This is quite the nice shop,” He commented, his British accent surprising Sutton from behind the counter. She took in his outfit, tight fitting jeans, expensive loafers, a plain white tee shirt, a staple uniform of a lot of customers she sees each day. His older friend wore slacks and a dark dress shirt. He was built and would be very intimidating, if not for the fact he was drooling over the desert counter currently.

“Thank you,” She replied with a smile.

“Are you one of the bakers?” He asked looking up and down the counter at all the baked goods and empty spaces that were once preoccupied by treats earlier in the day.

“Yup.” Sutton responded with a nod, not one for small talk, especially when she had to frost and decorate four hundred cupcakes and be back at the bakery at 5 tomorrow morning. She decided she would stay late in order to take care of the order for Saturday and get a head start on the usual things for tomorrow morning to save her time when she got in tomorrow. She would have to leave work a little earlier than usual anyways, to go back to her apartment and change for the event they were catering tomorrow evening. Candace left out a few hours ago, and Sadie, who was supposed to be working tonight, asked to leave early to pick up her mom from the airport. That meant it was just Sutton by herself for the night, and Flour closed in forty-five minutes. At this rate, it would take that long to get this guy out of her shop. “Have you made up your mind yet? I’m a big fan of lemon bars, myself. Also the lavender ice cream goes great with one. It’s made fresh every day.”

“Steve,” Harry called out to his bodyguard, who was wondering around the perimeter of the bakery. “Is there anything you want?”

“I’d love a slice of that chocolate cake.” He said with a grin. Sutton moved to reach into the display case and pick up the cake stand to slice a piece off.

“For here or to go?” She asked, shooting a smile to the broad shouldered man who was making his way to the counter.

“To go, if you don’t mind.” He requested and she nodded, packing up the slice of cake.

“What about you?” She asked the boy with tight jeans, sliding the box across the counter.

“I’ll just take éclair. And a coffee to go, please.” Sutton nodded and flashed a smile. She packed up his treat and slide a coffee cup across the counter to him.

“Rolling Stones 1981,” Harry read out from the faded print on the back of her tee shirt. “You seem a little young to have been at a show in ’81.” He teased, arched eyebrow. Sutton let out a laugh and shrug.

“My parents were at this show.” She explained, tapping down the side of the pastry box, with customized tape that had the same logo as on the wall above the doors of her bakery. “It’s where they met, actually. This was my dad’s shirt.” She slid his box across the counter and moved to the register to ring it all up. “That’ll be $11.25, sir.” Harry nodded and fished a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket.

“That sure is an amazing way to meet, something straight from a movie.” He said with a fond smile and Sutton nodded. “You can keep whatever’s left.” He said, grabbing his coffee and éclair. “Have a good night.” He said before turning to the door, his adult male friend following behind.

“What a weirdo.” Sutton mumbled to herself after the two had left. After waiting ten minutes, Sutton had no more customers, she decided to close up early for the night in hopes of getting a head start on work for tomorrow. She grabbed a rag and started to wipe everything down up locked the door, thinking of the strange boy and his older friend.

Harry and Steve got back into the car, Harry passed up the coffee to his driver, who thanked him with a large grin. “Back to the hotel?” He asked, and Harry confirmed with a nod. They returned to the hotel, successfully avoiding any especially horrendous New York City traffic. The driver dropped them off at the front, and Harry and Steve made it into the hotel without being stopped by fans waiting outside or paparazzi trying to take pictures.

“The bakery girl was rather cute.” Steve said when the two were in an elevator, Harry let out a chuckle and turned to look at his bodyguard, who was clutching his box of cake. “It was simply an observation.”

“Let’s hope the deserts are as good as the staff then,” He joked, as the elevator doors opened and they arrived to their floor. Steve shook his head, following to make sure Harry got into his room before heading to his own, a door away. When Harry entered his room, there was dinner sitting on the table, that Anna had ordered before he left practice. He was trying to keep a low profile while staying in the city so long. Less attention meant less online articles and twitter feeds trying to find his exact location. Harry got himself a beer from the fridge, that was stocked each day and sat down at the table to eat dinner. He scrolled through his phone, responding to text messages and emails, checking his twitter and Instagram accounts. Most nights he spent hanging out with friends who lived in the city, or the guys from his band. But tonight, he didn’t want to do too much, his nerves for his first official solo show were starting to get to him. He felt it would be better to actually get an entire night’s worth a sleep and be relaxed going into the show tomorrow.

After he finished his meal, he opened up the box from the bakery, remembering the girl who worked there. He took a bite out of it and was instantly surprised by how flavorful and delicious the flaky pastry was. Easily one of, if not the very best pastries he had ever had. Over the years, Harry had traveled a lot and visited so many different fancy restaurants and bakeries with delicious deserts, but he was having a hard time imagining one that topped this one. His experience working in a bakery gave him another level of appreciation for how well this desert was executed. Harry made a mental note to stop back by the bakery before he left the city. It gave him high hopes for the cupcakes that would be at his event tomorrow night.