"Okay," Harry turned to me as soon as we were back in the car. I heard the slamming of car doors behind us, as his security bundled into their own vehicle, but Harry's eyes didn't flicker to follow the sound. He watched me instead, a bright grin overtaking his features. "Our tour continues."
"Where are we going?" I asked him, as he turned the key into the ignition and started the car. He leaned back in the seat, tilting his head back and letting out an almost elated sigh that made my stomach flip. I noticed how as one of his hands grasped the wheel, the other lay upon his own leg, drumming melodically as if searching for a position of its own.
"You'll see," he lazily tilted his head to peer over at me. "It's not far." I noticed the buzz of the city around us had started to pick up, now - more cars on the road, and the pavements more densely populated as the sun was beginning to beam down even brighter upon us. It was a little past ten, as I'd noticed from a large clock positioned on the wall as we'd left the cafe, which had also begun to grow much busier. I wondered if Harry's timings were deliberate - if he'd decided to leave and finish breakfast at a time when most people were arriving to begin it; he'd slipped away with such ease, undetected by anybody in search of a photo, or an autograph from him. I supposed he must have mastered that by now.
I watched out of the window, as Harry smoothly drew backwards, out of his parking space, and headed for the exit back onto the main stretch of road. It was infinitely busier here, already, the streets now unbelievably crowded with cars, barely moving an inch at a time with the standstill traffic that seemed to have appeared whilst we were inside. The pavements were now clad with people, most of them seeming to be a similar age to Harry and I - truthfully, they looked no different to anybody anywhere else; there was an astounding amount of athleisure, but beyond that, the one thing that struck me was the phones. Everybody was on their phone; whilst I'd been peering around like a child fascinated by the sights of the unfamiliar environment around her, nobody here appeared to even look up for the briefest of moments. Even their walks were slow and unamused; unurgent, lazy strolls as they squinted down at their phone screens, or their movements would come to a halt altogether when bringing their phone to their ear to take a call, or to respond to something clearly particularly shocking that the person on the other end of the line had verbalised. Nobody was looking at anybody else, or talking to anybody else, there - nobody appeared to care. I wasn't sure if I envied the apparent nonchalance everybody appeared to possess, or if I resented it.
"Do you really like it here?" I asked Harry, letting my eyes linger on a young girl who just about avoided walking into a lamppost after staring so incessantly at her screen. Harry seemed like so much more than this - it was surprising that away from work, he'd spend time here out of his own enjoyment. It was a busy, tourist-filled and self-centred area - London wasn't much different in that regard, but there was something different in the air, here, that I couldn't quite pinpoint. "In LA?" I glanced back at him to find his lips having twitched into an almost knowing smile, like he'd been watching and catching onto my every thought already.
"There's more to it," he replied, his finger extending briefly to push his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose. "It can be a little intense, but you can learn to love it. If you look in the right places." He paused for a moment, pursing his lips. "It's kind of like, when you're starting in music, if you get to LA and make it as a name here, you're sorted," he said, gesturing with his hand. "It's where the big labels are, all the connections you need to be making, and the people you need to be meeting. It's pretty big in determining if you're gonna make it."
"But, surely you made it here a long time ago?" I furrowed my eyebrows, not quite understanding why he'd remain so focused on the connections he'd undoubtedly already made. "You made your name everywhere, years ago." He paused as if contemplating his response for a moment.
"That has an expiration date," he returned, bringing his lips together again as I frowned in genuine confusion. "If I stay in the loop here; even if it's just showing my face back here every now and then, for an event like the one last night, it really helps."
"You enjoy it?" I asked, "The networking, the events?" It sounded like my worst nightmare.
"I enjoy touring," he said, dodging my question, "and I enjoy making music. Staying involved here means I get to do both things for longer." He didn't appear tense, or agitated by my questions, necessarily, but it felt like there was something deeper that he wasn't quite saying. I supposed I'd never considered it as something quite so vapid; something with an 'expiration date', or a time limit. It made sense - sort of - when I heard it - fame had undoubtedly dwindled out for countless names throughout the years, but for somebody in what seemed like the height of an already prestigious, accomplished career; somebody whose face was plastered on just about every billboard, and whose name topped just about every headline; every music chart; every awards list, it surprised me that he even had to consider beyond his current position. I thought back to when he told me he'd be pushing out another album virtually as soon as he possibly could, after this tour ended - was that something he wanted to do, or something he felt like he needed to do?
I think before I'd met Harry, I'd never have considered that people in his position would have to worry about a thing. I'd seen his face on the covers of magazines for as long as I could remember; pictures of him surrounded by people of equal fame and prominence, or his name on headlines for topping charts or selling out tours. Not to diminish him, or his undeniable talent, but had I never known him, I'd have figured that was all delivered to him on a silver platter - not that he had to be calculated, or conscious of it fading away from him. With one of my first interactions with him being outside of Ally's office, practically accusing me of colluding against him; if that had been the real first and only time I'd ever cross paths with him, I'd have been able to categorise him as a self-absorbed, selfish brat, who wouldn't have known a thing about a situation like mine, and nor could he ever - why wouldn't he tell me not to take this job, because how could he ever understand its significance? How could he ever understand that money wasn't just disposable for me; that another job wouldn't just come around, especially doing something of actual value to me? This kind of opportunity was rare - unheard of - just to fall into the lap of somebody like me. I knew, no matter how hard he tried, he'd never quite be able to understand what it was like - but when he spoke this way, and I saw him in the way I got to, it was hard not to believe that he could understand me more than others had ever been able to. It felt like he got it, without me even needing to say it, or that even if he didn't; he would do absolutely everything in his power to try to.
There was so much more to him, I almost felt angry at myself for refusing to see it. I'd felt it, arguably, from the second I'd lay eyes on him, but it was like, no matter how famous or well-known he was - it could all never even begin to do him justice. There was so much of Harry that I'd yet to uncover, but when I looked over at him, in the simplest of situations; just driving around, or sharing a drink, or when he kissed me, I almost felt sorry for the people who would never know him. It was almost unfair that people had to live without knowing him, no matter the capacity - and it felt almost unfathomable that I came so, so close to being one of those people.
"Enough about work," Harry spoke, breaking me from my thoughts. "We're both off work, today." His hand reached from its place on his own leg, suddenly, to land in mine, and I almost instinctively intertwined our fingers, relishing in the warmth of his skin against my own.
"For what it's worth, being on tour doesn't feel like work," I said, honestly. "I don't know how I'm supposed to go back into sitting at a desk in an office all day." I bit my lip following my admission - it was something I did my best not to pay too much mind to; I knew I'd have to, and that I would be going back, but it still filled me with so much dread.
"Yeah?" he raised an eyebrow, glancing over at me, before his eyes landed back on the road. "So what, working in a corporate office isn't the end goal?"
I blew out a breath, trying not to get too caught up in the topic, despite me being the one to bring it up. "I guess it is. I need to get my degree first," I pointed out, "then maybe I can be my own boss, instead of working under some other lawyer."
"Do you like your boss?" he asked me, "are they good to you?"
"They're fine," I replied, equally ignoring both the way my chest fluttered at the latter question, and the fact that I knew, as well as Grace and Johnny who had witnessed my working dynamic, at home, that it was anything but bearable. The bosses of the firm were a group of people I'd barely ever encountered in person - I reported to a number of supervisors; one in particular, being the very woman who had granted the leave I required for this trip. "They let me come here, didn't they?"
"And what about your current boss?" he asked me. My view of his side profile allowed me to notice the traces of a playful smirk twisting onto his lips. Though I reported to Ally, I knew it was Harry who ultimately pulled the strings; this whole operation depended on him. "Is he good to you, too?"
"I don't know, he's pretty average. Kind of cocky; not the most likeable," I said, drawing out my words as if pondering in thought, only to be cut off by Harry's hand drawing back from mine to pinch lightly at my thigh in a way that made me squeal. His fingers then jabbed lightly at my ribs and I attempted to grab his hand with both of mine in hopes of pulling his touch away. "Focus on the road!" I attempted to veer his attention away from me as uncontrollable laughter continued to escape my lips at his touch.
"Oh, I can focus on you and the road, Iz," his voice came back, filtering through my outbursts of laughter, his touches not relenting despite my continued screams of protest.
"Stop, stop!" I laughed, and he finally drew his hand back from me and allowed me to catch my breath. My face was hot, and my ribs ached from both laughing and attempting to combat Harry's hand, but it was the most foreign, most glorious feeling; this elation granted just by the presence of somebody else - without complication, just their company.
As his hand landed quickly back between my own, it almost felt crazy that it hadn't always been this way - that we'd both denied ourselves of this simplicity for weeks. We'd fought, and battled, and withheld, only making things harder, when they could've been like this; freeing, and easy, and fun.
"Y'know, I kind of admire it," he said, as some of the traffic appeared to clear ahead, and he picked up a little speed, "you working somewhere, doing something you hate," he teased, referencing back to my job at home. A lawyer who doesn't like law, as he'd called me.
"I don't hate it," I attempted to argue, but I knew I didn't need to. There was more to it than he could ever know, but I didn't want to even begin to delve into it. I could try honesty - but this was a little far, too quickly.
"Mhm," he only hummed another gentle, teasing response, before he brought one of my hands, grasped in his own, towards him to press his lips gently against my knuckle, causing a shiver to travel up the length of my spine. A tiny part of me felt that if anybody was ever to crack me, it'd be him; if somebody was somehow able to draw up everything I worked so hard to keep suppressed, that somebody would be him; him, and those knowing smiles, and careful green eyes - but that didn't mean I'd try my best not to sabotage things, and relent.
"I'm going to change your mind about LA," he told me suddenly, as he took a left to pull into a parking lot. I couldn't help but smile at his sentence, before I lay eyes on our new surroundings; a huge, vast building that I somehow wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't pulled the car in front of it. It felt like Harry could probably change my mind about anything.
"I can't tell what this is," I frowned, as he pulled smoothly into a parking spot. A few other cars were around, but nothing compared to the mass of them on the road we'd just been on.
"It's a museum," he replied, bringing my hand in his own to put the car into park, rather than letting go to do it himself. I bit back a smile at the gesture, my chest fluttering as he continued. "But there's some more."
We made our way up to the entrance, with the sound of car doors closing behind us only a few seconds later; his security, following us in. As we reached the door, the museum didn't appear to be open at all - the lights were off, and the door seemed to be bolted shut; there was no sort of indication that we could even go in. After a moment of standing there, I went to ask Harry what we were waiting for, but before I could, a figure appeared through the glass panel of the door, barely visible in the darkness, before the sound of a lock turning came from in front of us, and the door swung open.
"Mr Styles! It's great to see you again." A shorter man appeared in the light of the now-open doorway, and Harry extended his hand to greet him. I couldn't quite tell if he was actually short, or if Harry just towered over him, as he seemed to with most people.
"Please, Harry's fine," I watched as they shook hands, before Harry turned back to me, momentarily pressing his palm to the small of my back in a gentle acknowledgement. "This is Isabella Blake, she's a friend of mine."
"It's great to meet you as well," the man sent me a bright smile as he reached over to shake my hand like he had Harry's. "I can take you straight through."
We stepped inside, and the man reached behind us to lock the door again, as soon as Harry's security team had a chance to step in behind us. I felt constantly aware of their presence behind us, and I knew Harry had said that he continued to notice them, also, but I wondered if it ever shifted away from being a slightly uncomfortable feeling to being one of downright annoyance.
The man gestured to us to follow him, before taking off down the long hallway, his shoes blaring against the polished stone floor. The hallway was huge, and so open, with paintings in golden trims adorning each centimetre of the walls. I wasn't quite sure where he was taking us, but I could've spent hours just examining the decorations of what appeared to be the mere entryway.
"Have I finally made it to friend status?" I murmured to Harry beside me, referencing the way he'd introduced me, as we remained a few feet behind the man ahead of us. He'd brought his head downwards, toward mine, to hear me properly as I'd spoken, and a beautiful smile broke out onto his lips.
"I can go and give him all the actual details, if you'd like," he teased, bringing his lips to my ear as he murmured his own response.
"What would those be?" I mimicked a teasing frown, and though his expression barely faltered, I could still somehow sense the ticking of his mind at my words as we continued to walk. I had an idea as to what he was referencing, but I was a little dangerously interested to see how far he'd go.
"If you want a reminder, Iz," he paused, his voice somehow even lower than before, his breath fanning against my ear in a way that tempted my lips to part, "just ask". But I cleared my throat, having sufficient confirmation of what he was talking about. My entire body felt hot at such a simple sentence from him, and it seemed like he knew it, too, drawing back from me with a knowing smile in a way that made me ache at the distance.
"Do you come here a lot?" I asked, trying to ignore how badly I was tempted to push him on his playful offer. He always had such an intense effect on me, but somehow, today - I wasn't sure if it was this new attempt at openness or honesty, or just simply being together -Â it was all amplified.
"I used to," he replied, "but I haven't ever had company." I felt my chest pang at the fact he'd bring me here, somewhere he preferred to frequent alone.
I looked around for another brief moment, only now noticing that the hallway was very much deserted. Most rooms felt that way when I was in Harry's company - he had a funny sort of ability to draw my attention entirely onto him, but, this time, we were actually alone. "Is there nobody else here?"
"The museum doesn't open for another couple of hours," he told me, as we caught up to the man who had guided us in, who now waited at the end of the vast hallway, standing by a set of double doors. "To everybody else," he clarified, and though I didn't get the chance to ask how Harry had managed to organise for us to be let in before everybody else, I couldn't help but feel slightly special that he had. I glanced at Harry as he stepped ahead of me, and the man drew the doors open, as Harry sent him a nod and a polite 'thank you'.
It wasn't until the sun hit my face, as we reemerged outside of the building - this time, in an enclosed area, away from the streets or the remainder of the city - that my jaw truly dropped. The sudden heat of the outdoors, combined with the brightness I'd somehow quickly become unaccustomed to from being inside the dimly lit, marble-washed museum walls - even though only for a brief few minutes - caused me to squint for a moment, before I finally took in what was in front of me. A winding, cobblestone pathway stretched directly out across an open garden, framed with flowers in more colours than I'd have even known was possible. Trees hung over the skyline ahead, some with their leaves cascading down to almost coat the entire space; greens, and reds falling effortlessly over the path.
I took a step forward, silent with awe. Just beyond the plethora of flowers, were stretches of water; small ponds, adorned with lilies upon the surface, in addition to stray petals that appeared to have landed there by force of the gentle breeze that blew, now, lifting each plant before me into a subtle movement. It was like something out of a storybook - the sort of boundless, ethereal description of a magical garden you'd read about as a child - it was somewhere like this that I would've desperately closed my eyes and pictured myself in, as a little girl;Â somewhere beautiful; somewhere quiet; somewhere safe. Somehow, this was it.
"I knew you'd like it," Harry's voice sounded from behind me, quiet, as if he felt it too. As if he also felt this weird sort of serenity, here. It felt so disconnected from the buzzing streets of Los Angeles we'd inhabited only moments previous, filled with chaos, and endless amounts of cars, and people - this felt like another world, completely and entirely away from it all.
I turned back to look at him, over my shoulder. His eyes were set on me, his sunglasses now pushed up into his hair, allowing me to see the gentle, achingly warm look from him as he watched me, and the tiniest of smiles pulled on his lips. I'd almost forgotten he was there for the brief few minutes I'd spent taking it all in - but now I had my reminder that he was, it didn't jolt me into defence like it typically would. My body didn't tense because I'd been caught in a moment of captivation; or because somebody had watched me grow besotted with something - because I didn't fear that Harry would try and take it away from me. It felt sort of unfathomable that somebody could be here, and not take advantage of, or disrupt the peace I'd found, but rather amplify it. When I looked at him, I felt it; I felt it a scary amount.
We didn't stay there for overly long - there was only a couple of hours before it opened to everybody else, and I figured the goal was actually to be well away from the location before the first line of attendees for the day arrived. We didn't even step foot in the remainder of the museum - I didn't really want to leave the garden, now that we were there. Harry had thrown himself down onto the grass, his arms bending upwards to cradle the back of his head with his hands. Little daisies peeked through the grass surrounding his arms, and torso, even his neck - the thin, white petals ghosting over the tanned skin peeking from the collar of his shirt. I'd sat beside him for a moment, before I'd shuffled to position myself to lay on my side, my breath hitching momentarily in my throat as my face fell dangerously close to his. I propped myself up on my elbow, our proximity allowing me to see how Harry's eyes were closed, even when shielded by the lenses of his sunglasses.
There were so many little details etched upon his skin that I felt privileged to even be close enough to pick up on them. The way his face was so sharply defined, even when obstructed by the thick frames of the sunglasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. Even the sharp line of his jaw was adorned by the softest trail of freckles, each one its own tiny, distinctive marking. The faintest traces of stubble decorated the lower half of his face; if I hadn't been staring so intently, I'd have never picked up on it in its subtlety.
I watched as his lips suddenly twitched into a grin, clearly sensing my eyes on him. His eyes remained shut, but somehow the smile was just as achingly beautiful - it was blissful, to see his face light up even without the asset of those green irises.
"What?" I laughed, watching him scrunch his nose up as if stifling a gleeful laugh of his own. He tilted his head to look at me, now - barely, with my position slightly above his own - and his hand suddenly extended to lift my sunglasses from my face. I wrinkled my nose at him as he did so. "That's really against rule number one."
"It's okay," he murmured, his eyes scanning slowly over my face. "I'm allowed to break them." His hand then traced over my arm, where it was propping me up, his thumb drawing a gentle line that made goosebumps arise on my skin. I hadn't really felt my face inching closer to his; it was an almost subconscious drift, but I wouldn't have even entertained an attempt to stop it. Instead, his lips brushed gently over my own in a way that set my body alight, his hand snaking into the front of my hair.
My hand fell to rest upon the side of his face that I'd been admiring so hopelessly only a moment before, as the upper half of my body now pressed to his own. One of his arms reached to wind around my waist, his palm resting on my lower back and holding me against him as I practically melted into his touch. This was like it had been last night - kissing him - this overwhelming feeling, of just being able to relish in somebody and everything that they were giving you. I couldn't fully understand it, and I wasn't sure how I ever would; this effect he had on me, like nobody ever had. I'd tried to place significance on my previous relationships, but none had ever felt authentically important. The fact that just by kissing me; just by providing the faintest of touches and speaking the simplest of words, he could make me feel this way, told me that up until now, I must have been doing something wrong.
"We have to go," he whispered, eventually, breaking our kiss and drawing back from my face to connect our eyes. He pressed his lips together as if a little disappointed to be telling me that. "It's going to be packed soon." I nodded, as he tilted his chin to kiss my lips again, this time only briefly, but it was still enough to make my skin tingle. "It's okay, I have more planned."
"I didn't doubt you for a second," I smiled down at him, admiring how his nose would always scrunch up a little when he was fighting back his widest grins. He grabbed my hand in his own to pull me up from the grass, and I took one final look at the garden as we made our way back up the pathway towards the entrance back into the museum.
"We'll come back," he told me, handing me the sunglasses he'd stolen from me a few moments before.
"Wait," I stopped, wrapping my hand around his arm to make him stop walking. "My camera," I told him, and he didn't hesitate to reach into his bag to find it. I couldn't believe that I hadn't taken a single photo of the garden - not once had I thought to reach for my camera. Photography was everything to me; it was everything I'd clung onto for as long as I could remember - yet it hadn't even crossed my mind whilst being here with Harry.
I took a couple of photos of the entire garden from where we stood. I couldn't capture much detail from where we were; that opportunity had been missed in my forgetting to take any pictures earlier. They weren't my favourite photos; even without seeing them, I could tell as much - it didn't do any of the garden justice. It only took me a few seconds, before I turned back to Harry, standing in preparation to leave. He tilted his head to the side.
"What is it?" he asked, appearing to sense my dissatisfaction.
"It's nothing, we can go," I shrugged, turning back to head for the entrance back to the museum.
"Don't be silly, Iz, what's wrong?" He didn't move, watching me suspiciously. I brought my lip between my teeth. I should've somehow remembered that he had that odd talent for reading me a little too well.
"Well..." I trailed off for a moment, watching the smile overtake his features as the solemnity wavered between us, as if he'd already predicted my sheepish request. "I just think my pictures would be better if I took some down by the tree," I admitted, remembering how beautiful the view had been from the other end of the path. I looked at Harry once more, who glanced back at the door, before looking back at me. I knew he was anxious about leaving in decent time before the museum opened up, and it wouldn't have surprised me if he'd simply dismissed me and urged me to leave, there and then.
I sensed his hesitation, as he looked over at me, and at the door once more, before he pulled his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen as if to check what time it was. He sighed, but it was light and playful, rather than one of true defeat or exasperation, and the gentle smile never left his lips. "Okay. Hurry."
"Two minutes," I promised him, quickly running away from him to get back to the other end of the path. I bent onto one knee once I was there, leaning in to take some better photos of the flowers, initially, before my attention turned to the water around me. All of the details I'd picked up upon my arrival that had fascinated me so deeply were flooding back all at once, with a flurry of ideas regarding how it would be best to capture them with my camera.
Harry hadn't followed me back down the path - instead, he'd stayed at the top, just watching with my favourite smile of his on his face as I was practically lowered entirely to the ground to capture these photos. I tilted my camera, aiming for one of the lily petals that had begun to separate from the others on the surface of the pond. And finally, I'd gotten the photo I wanted, leaning back onto my knees victoriously and grinning to myself. Suddenly remembering I was on a time limit, I quickly got to my feet and hurried back up the path to Harry, waiting patiently for me at the end of it.
"Happy?" he asked, a light laugh leaving his lips as I ran toward him. When I finally reached him, I blew out a breath, my heart racing from the urgency and speed with that I'd just acted in.
"Very," I returned, matter-of-factly, and slightly out of breath.
When we'd made it back inside the museum, Harry's security had been waiting literally just behind the door, and it made me wonder if they'd just been watching us through one of the windows the entire time. If they had, they weren't giving anything away, simply trailing us back to our cars.
As Harry had predicted, the parking lot was now significantly more congested than it had been upon our arrival. He pulled back out of the parking spot, and we rejoined the busier roads, somehow even more jammed with traffic than they had been before.
"There's a little record shop," he said, over the low volume of the radio as we drove along, gesturing past me with his hand, "down that road, there. It's my favourite. I haven't been able to go in ages because of how popular it's getting."
I bit my lip. I figured it must have gotten annoying to have to constantly consider if you could make it inside of somewhere as simple as a shop without being bombarded. I moved Harry's bag from where it sat on my feet, so that I could bring my knees to my chest, holding my camera on the tops of them.
"Take me when we come back," I told him, "I want to see it." I watched as his eyes landed on me for a moment, before he nodded. I wasn't sure exactly when, but I knew he'd have shows here at some point in the next few weeks - just as he'd said we could revisit the museum garden, then, I was sure there were countless other hidden gems he knew of, here, that I'd undoubtedly enjoy seeing.
His hand landed on the top of my knee, squeezing lightly, just beside where I held my camera, and I let out a gentle exhale, letting my eyes flutter closed as the back of my head tilted to press against the rest of my car seat. The air around me felt so unbelievably light in that moment - it was that type of feeling; the rarest and most brilliant kind, that you almost wished you could bottle, and keep. I didn't at any point know where we were going, nor did I care - I'd handed control over to him without really even meaning to.
"Do you really want to change my mind about LA?" I asked him, opening my eyes.
"Mm?"
"Where can we get some really good ice cream?"
Harry didn't speak for a moment, repeatedly turning his head between me and the road. He then threw his own head back, almost groaning in exaggerated joy, "Oh, I thought you'd never ask."
Within ten minutes, I was holding a cup of ice cream for each of us as Harry continued to drive; it had only taken a moment for us to stop somewhere - luckily, it wasn't too busy considering the time of morning - and he'd decided on some weird special flavour that they were specialising in that day, and I'd chosen the mint chocolate chip flavour. He'd turned his nose up playfully at my choice, before he'd turned to the cashier and requested three more portions of ice cream, in random flavours. I'd frowned, confused as we left the shop, only to quickly understand as Harry walked over to the car, where his security were seated, watching carefully. I figured the only reason they hadn't followed us inside was the close proximity of their parked car to the shop we'd been in. One of them rolled down their window as Harry approached, frowning in anticipation of what Harry had to say.
"One hour," Harry said, "That's all. You can follow us right to the bottom of the hill - I'll even let you block it off to anybody else, if you'd like." I watched the expression of the man in the seat closest to him, fall.
"Harry, you know we can't-"
"Just one hour. Please. I won't tell anyone, you don't have to tell anyone. Nobody gets hurt," Harry negotiated, and I watched as the men looked between each other, hesitant. Harry then held up the three ice cream cups, offering them to the three of them.
There was silence between them all for a moment, and I watched the man Harry had been speaking to purse his lips, before he took one of the cups from Harry's hand. "One hour."
Harry turned back to me, the widest, most satisfied grin on his face as he bribed the remaining two with their own ice cream cups, before we could then head back to the car.
"That was well played," I told him, as I pulled open the passenger door to get back inside the car. "Though I don't really know what you were bargaining..." I trailed off, and he only laughed.
"It's our next stop, on our tour. You'll see," he told me, reaching over to grab his spoon from his ice cream cup, grabbing a bite of his ice cream from where I held it in my lap, before he placed it back, and started the car up. He grimaced, then, as he began to drive.
"It's not good?" I asked him, grabbing a spoonful of my own ice cream. Mine was perfect.
"I can't quite tell.." he spoke slowly, squinting his eyes. I found myself gathering another spoonful of his ice cream, offering the spoon out for him to take as he drove along.
He didn't take it from me, instead leaning over to bite the ice cream from the spoon as I held it. He then wrinkled his nose again, shaking it firmly, now. "Yeah, no. Try it," he prompted me.
I held up the tub, examining it. His ice cream was a yellowish colour, but pale, with some kind of dry ingredient mixed through in tiny chunks. I had to admit, it didn't look the most appetising. "What even is it?"
"I don't know, I didn't really read the label," he wrinkled his nose some more, scrunching up his face. "That is bad." I laughed at him as he grimaced repeatedly.
"Well, mine's great - maybe you shouldn't have turned your nose up at it."
"Yours smells like toothpaste."
I rolled my eyes, before gathering a spoonful of it and holding it out, offering it to him. He raised an eyebrow suspiciously at me, hesitating, before taking the bite I'd offered him. He was quiet for a moment as he tasted it, before he sighed, pressing his lips together in a playful defeat.
"God, that's way better," he admitted, jokingly reluctant in a way that made me laugh. "It's so much better," he groaned, as I scooped up another mouthful to offer him, reaching over to give it to him.
"Toothpaste, huh?"
"Shut up," he mumbled, accepting the second bite.
I noticed we'd veered away from the busier roads, now, moving away from the crowded streets into some more residential ones. It became quieter, and quieter, as Harry's security still followed closely behind. I watched out of the window, focused on how bright the sky looked, now, with the sun looking so radiant at the height of it. Everything was covered in its cast of light; even shielded by my sunglasses, every ounce of our surroundings looked straight out of a movie.
At some point, we'd moved entirely away from the area we'd previously been in - everything looked a little more rural, now; there was a far less pavement, and less electrical wires across the width of the sky. We reached what looked like a very steep hill, and Harry drew to a stop, suddenly opening the window on his side. Without turning around, he reached out to extend his arm in some sort of gesture, I assumed to his security behind us, and they also stopped. Then, when we began to move toward the hill, his security didn't follow.
"You bribed them to leave us alone?" I asked him, now understanding his negotiation for an hour away from them, in exchange for a payment of ice cream, for them all. I looked over at him, as he smiled, almost victoriously.
"I don't want them here," he said, bluntly, earning a laugh from me, "I just want it to be you and me, for a bit."
We drew to a stop as the ground started to flatten out, as if we'd now reached the top of the curve. When I looked out my window, now, all I saw was sky - there were no more buildings, or cars, or people, until I looked down through the windscreen, hearing Harry blow out a relaxed exhale beside me. It was a beach.
I'd seen a beach before - somewhat. In that, I'd seen the beaches that England had to offer, where I'd grown up - the type that weren't exactly real beaches, with rocks instead of sand, and the air being far too cold for any kind of relaxation to be involved. I lifted my sunglasses up, to admire the sand - actual sand, that I could make out even from way up here, with the waves crashing against it.
"Do you want to get out?" he asked me, gently, as I continued to eye the sight beneath us. It was packed - there were countless people running about, messing around with surfboards, and buckets and spades to build their sandcastles. But here, in the silence of the car, even with the hundreds of people below, the beach felt like it was ours. Just ours.
"Not yet," I replied. I glanced over at him, seeing that he, too, had removed his sunglasses like I had. Harry's hand then reached to take the now empty ice cream cups from me, and set them into the narrow cupholder between us. He reached over, then, to lay his hand on my knee, and I found myself bringing my own hand upwards to wrap it around his upper arm, where it had extended, closer to me. I could feel Harry's eyes on me as I watched the sight beneath me for another moment, before I found myself tilting my head to rest it against the firmness of his shoulder. And there was that peace, again, that warm, comfortable feeling that filled the air between us when we sat in each other's company. That weird, foreign feeling where my mind seemed to stop racing, even though it so often begged to in any moment of quiet.
"Iz," Harry's voice sounded suddenly, after we'd sat in silence for a mere minute or two. I lifted my head from his shoulder, but remained leaning close to him, turning my head to face his own. When he turned his, our noses were practically touching, his hand drawing a slow, tantalising circle on my leg, now a little closer to my upper thigh.
"What?"
"I don't think you're close enough."
I squinted at his sentence, which he playfully returned, our eyes narrowed at one another's in a teasing manner for a couple of moments.
His nose then nudged against my own, his lips brushing over mine as he leant into kiss me properly, before I spoke, very quietly, so not to disrupt this tiny little bubble of tranquility that seemed to have formed around us.
"Harry," I returned, speaking his name as he had mine, as I joked, "I don't think I can get any closer unless I'm in your seat."
He tilted his head back, then, drawing back from me to roll his eyes as if blissfully overwhelmed by my sentence. "Oh, brilliant idea." He then reached for where my seatbelt was clicked in, and wound his hand gently around my arm to tug me over to him. I gasped, having not actually expected him to follow up on what I'd said, but I was almost entirely pulled from my seat in an instant.
Harry smoothly reached under his seat as he pulled me over, to push it back from the steering wheel and create as much room there as he possibly could, as my arms wound around his neck and I was pulled into his lap. In our position, now, we were unbelievably close, almost our entire bodies pressed together, with me straddling him in his seat. He could tilt his head back, now, to meet my eye, and just watching him do so with such a nonchalant expression on his features caused my stomach to knot.
"You're unbelievable," I remarked, one of my hands drawing back from around his neck to drag lightly over the line of his jaw. I could've collapsed at the sight of him like that, peering up at me so lazily, the faintest smirk on his lips, if I hadn't been entirely supported by his thighs beneath me, and his arms around my waist and back.
"Mm, tell me more," he murmured, that achingly taunting smirk upon his lips as his tilted chin now lifted a little more to beckon my own lips to his, and I could only oblige, allowing myself to melt into his kiss beneath me, feeling his tongue swipe over my bottom lip to only deepen his movements. Without really intending to, in an attempt to somehow lean even further into him and the hold he had on me, I shifted my position in his lap, feeling him let out a short gasp of breath against my lips that made me shiver.
The hand I'd rested on his face pushed back into his hair, and it suddenly felt like the air within the car had entirely shifted. It was hotter, it was thicker, it was tenser in the most hypnotising way - with each of his movements, I could tell that he felt it too, as his hand drew over just about any inch of my bare skin that he could reach.
His hand then drew over my outer thigh, before drawing back up to my side, and over my ribcage as he seemed to bring his body off his seat a little, increasing some of the pressure between us in a way that caused my lips to part, our kiss breaking as I sharply inhaled.
"Fuck," he then hissed, all of a sudden, his eyes meeting my own, dark with sexual frustration. "I don't have anything with me." My heart sank momentarily, in the realisation that I didn't have anything either, to act as a saving grace. I blew out a breath, realising that with all that had built up in the past few moments; in the past few weeks, I wouldn't be able to have him now, no matter how badly I was both physically and emotionally aching to feel him, to be with him again. I watched as he blinked once, slowly, his eyes remaining shut for a couple of seconds as if he, too, had the very same disappointing realisation.
My breath was shaky, and my knees felt weak even from what had just happened, and in anticipation of things escalating - I could feel how badly he wanted to, just like I did, and that made it even more tantalising. I was so desperate for him that my against my own will, my mind started listing out the pros and cons that came with just going for it, without any protection, despite the fact I knew we couldn't do that.
Harry then drew my chin to him between his thumb and forefinger and brought our lips together again. If he kept kissing me knowing that we couldn't take things any further, I would explode. But, then, one of his hands drew back down to my outer thigh, the other hand mirroring his actions on my other leg. This was the first time Harry and I had engaged in something sexual - or, we'd at least tried to - without any alcohol involved, and it made everything so much more intense, and real.
I'd expected him to stop there, accepting defeat in not being able to have sex with me, now, but I felt his fingers then toying with the button of my jeans. We couldn't have sex. He knew that. So why was he continuing?
"Can I-" he began to ask against my lips, but I only pushed into him further to continue our kiss, providing him with his answer. He slid one of his hands beneath my jeans, appearing to struggle for a brief second due to our position, before I could suddenly feel his hand press against me entirely. I could feel every centimetre of his fingers, then, only pressed against me, not even moving, but still enough to make my stomach turn.
When his hand finally slid beneath my underwear, my forehead pressed to his own as I broke our kiss, solely to enable my lips to part in pure and utter bliss. He dragged one of his fingers along my slit and I immediately pushed myself further into his grip, as he didn't even reconnect our lips - instead, his eyes were in that lazy, lulling, half-closed position, his own lips parted as if he was enjoying this just as much as I was, just as I felt two of his fingers draw smoothly over my clit.
He wanted to touch me, just to touch me. That was why he was continuing - he wanted me to feel good, even if he wasn't able to. He wanted to satisfy me, not solely for the purpose of satisfying himself. He was doing this for me, because he wanted to.
I'd never experienced this before in my life - never, ever had somebody sought to pleasure me simply for the sake of doing so; for the sake of benefiting me, and me only. I'd been expecting him to grow uninterested in the fact we couldn't have sex, as that was the only way I'd ever experienced; but it was like it wasn't about that to him. Instead, he just wanted to do something for me, for my enjoyment, without him needing a thing in return. His enjoyment came from mine.
His fingers drew over me relentlessly - he wasn't rushing in the slightest, but his movements were tantalisingly slow and deliberate, his lips occasionally pressing to my chin, or my jaw, or the corner of my mouth as my hands pushed messily into his hair. I was entirely lost in everything that he was doing to me, and that was before he'd even lined one of his fingers up at my entrance and pushed into me, causing my eyes to squeeze shut at the sudden pressure. A moan fell from my lips only for them to be captured by Harry's again, though I could barely even kiss him properly, unable to draw my attention away from how he was touching me.
"Harry, please," I found myself begging him in the breathiest whisper that I could muster up, though I wasn't even sure what else I could be begging him for. He was giving me absolutely everything I could've desired, his fingers pumping in and out of me with his thumb drawing over my clit in a way that continuously sent shivers rocketing along my spine. Each time I'd press my forehead to his own, he'd nudge my nose with his, his lips ghosting over mine to beckon a kiss, or almost just to taunt me further. His other hand had risen to the side of my face, steadying me in meeting his eye, though I couldn't help but flicker my gaze down to where his hand was, between us, which only further set my body on fire.
His hand drew slowly over the lower part of my face, before it finally landed upon my throat, his fingers slowly wrapping around it. I yearned to tilt my head back, but I was held in place - just enough - by his grip on me, and the light increase of pressure there only amplified the heat I'd been feeling everywhere else.
I could feel my hips rocking against Harry's hand, desperate for more, somehow, though I wasn't sure I'd even be able to take it. I wasn't sure anybody had ever made me feel so good in my life, as his grip on my throat held our eyes level, the look in his beckoning each sound from me.
I could still hear the faint sound from the crashing of waves outside, the view of the sea and the remainder of the beach undoubtedly visible to Harry, behind me, but the only thing in my vision was him. Him, and the loose strand of hair that had fallen to drape over his forehead, now, with his own lips pink, and flushed, as well as the faint pink that had coloured his cheeks. He looked unreal, the deep green of his eyes unbelievably potent when he was positioned, here, his face only a mere inch or two away.
I could feel myself undoubtedly reaching my end as his fingers continued their unbelievably blissful assault on me, drawing me closer and closer to coming undone as his grip on my throat failed to relent. It was everything at once; everything was heightened, and so, so good as I felt my breath hitching in my throat, and his gaze somehow deepening as he sensed it from me.
"There you go, baby," he murmured, the mere sound of his voice causing my entire body, though undeniably hot, to erupt in chills, as he beckoned me to finish - and I was in no position to do any different, my body almost falling limp as he drew his thumb rapidly over my clit, now, and I couldn't do anything except come undone in his hands, a breathy, uncontrollable string of moans surfacing in my throat as he continued to place pressure on it. My whole body shook against him as my vision clouded and I reached my high, as he finally drew his hand back from my throat to capture my chin roughly between his fingers and yank me to him, kissing me hungrily as if to capture absolutely any ounce of emotion I was able to give him.
Harry was unbelievable. He was truly beyond something that I could've made up, even in the depths of my imagination. He was more than I'd ever experienced, or known - he was more than I'd ever have been able to wish for or yearn for.
He drew his hand back from me, and I almost whimpered as I watched him bring two of his fingers to his mouth, and push them between his lips to taste the remainder of my arousal. His eyes never left mine, as he finally leant back to me, stroking over my hair with one of his hands as I was still reeling, feeling as if I'd evaporated out of my own body somehow.
He laughed, then, as I still tried desperately to find some kind of composure - though it wasn't mocking, or really humourous at all - it was short, breathy, genuine, as if it was simply elation that there was no other real way to convey.
"Should we keep driving, now?"