Strawberries & Memories - Chapter 6 - That's Hot - Anna
Hi. This is the sixth chapter of my book. I'm really excited about it and it would mean a lot if you shared it or gave me some feedback on it.
Summary for Strawberries & Memories: Anna went to the Coachella Music Festival to finally see her idol perform in person. Little did she know that would end up changing her life forever in ways she never even dared dream of. But everything comes at a cost.
The blaring sound of an alarm clock has my eyes flying open suddenly. The bright sunshine that filters through the curtains is attacking my barely awake eyes.
I groan, shutting them again quicker than I opened them as I pull the covers over my head in a further attempt to shield my eyes further from the unforgiving, unrelenting sun.
Another five minutes of sleep isn’t an option anymore, I guess.
Not when it dawns on me that the last memory I have, was watching Grey’s Anatomy with Harry in his living room.
Did that poor man carry me up here? I’m never gonna be able to look him in the eyes again.
Unless I woke up at some point and walked upstairs myself, that’s the only explanation that makes sense. Because I’m pretty sure a bed doesn’t just magically replace a sofa. But oh my god, this bed is freaking incredible.
I don’t know where this man buys his sheets, but they’re softer and smoother than what should be legal to use as bedsheets. If he has the same kind in his own bed, I am impressed at the fact that he still manages to get up and out of bed every morning. I know for a fact that if these sheets were in my home, I would walk around wrapped in them 24/7.
The mattress and pillows feel like laying on feathers and it makes me want to stay cocooned here forever.
Maybe I need to sell a few organs so I can buy some of these sheets. Or start setting aside money in a funeral savings account so that when I die, I can be buried and spend the rest of eternity with them.
The sheets make a rustling sound when I decide to roll over, suddenly aware of the dull pain laying like a blanket over my right hip. What I didn’t take into consideration was that I was apparently already close to the edge.
That realisation dawns on me when my stomach drops to the floor along with my body. The duvet softens the fall just enough for it not to hurt. But my life still flashes in front of my eyes for a second there as I can feel my throat tearing from the shriek that was just ripped from it. My heart is beating rapidly in my chest, keeping my hands tucked to my chest, as I let out a shaky laugh.
With all this grace, I should be a freaking ballerina or something.
How long I let myself just lay on the floor with my mind completely blank, I don’t know. But my peaceful quality time with Harry’s carpet is cut short when once again, I’m partly blinded against my will by light.
Until the light is blocked by a messy head of brown hair. “What are you doing on the floor?”
He looks like he just worked out. His skin is flushed and shiny and his hair is pushed away from his forehead by a white headband.
Since I don’t have an answer that makes me not seem like I have less balance than Bambi, I ask him a question instead, “Why do you work out at the ass crack of dawn?”
“It’s nearly 10 in the morning, sunshine.” He drops the duvet back on my face and I’m once again, enveloped by darkness.
I struggle for a second to rid myself of the covers. Trying to be the bigger person, I gather them off the floor and spread them on the bed instead of throwing them in his face the way my entire being is begging me to. “You know, some people would find sunshine kind of offensive.”
Harry tilts his head at me. A small smile playing on his lips, “Are you one of those people?”
He watches me sit down on the edge of the bed and rub my face tiredly. “That depends completely on the person who calls me that.”
“And am I the kind of person who get to call you sunshine?” He sounds uncertain. His weight shifts from foot to foot and he is picking at his fingernails. His teeth have sunk into his bottom lip. But it’s the way he won’t meet my eye that stops me from giving him the sarcastic response that was playing just at the tip of my tongue.
“After letting me sleep here you can call me whatever you want, H.”
I can practically see the way the relief passes through his body and his shoulders slump and his lung fully expels the air in them, “Thank god.”
“No. Thank you.”, I say, poking his shoulder as I walk past him.
He smiles and goes to leave the room while I rummage through my open suitcase for the clothes I had planned on wearing today. Before he closes the door behind him, he turns around, “I’m gonna hop in the shower. But I left some breakfast out for you in the kitchen in case you want some before I’m done. The tea bags are by the kettle so just help yourself to whatever you want, yeah?”
For lack of anything else to say, I thank him as sincerely as I can still feeling tired enough to fall asleep while standing up.
Once I’m left alone again, I shuffle into the bathroom and take a second to examine myself in the mirror.
In hopes that a shower might help me wash off the look of death that seems to be settled deep into every pore of my face, I quickly strip out of my sweats and t-shirt. The warm water is already fogging up the mirrors by the time I’ve found the correct playlist on my Spotify.
A few seconds later and the hot water cascades over my body while the first verse to TiO flows from the speaker loud enough to drown out every fleeting thought that passes through my head so fast I don’t even register it.
It’s a calming feeling. Those minutes where all that matters is getting all the conditioner out of my hair and making sure I don’t slip on soap while still pulling some wicked dance moves and outing on a whole ass shower concert that will never see the light of day.
If anyone did see it, by choice or not, I would just have to confine myself to an underground bunker for the rest of my fucking life.
I finish up, making sure all the body wash and conditioner are rinsed off before grabbing the fluffy, white towel from the counter as fast as possible to limit the amount of water dripping to the floor.
I have been continuously blown away by how generous and hospitable Harry has been to me over the past two days when not even my own family
The mirrors are completely covered in fog, blurring my reflection to the point where all that’s visible is a flesh-coloured and black blobs that vaguely look like me.
Oh to live in a world where you can just make anything blurry if you get tired of looking at it.
I’d pay some good money for that.
Since I’m not going anywhere other than the airport later today, I just do my skincare and apply a light layer of mascara to make myself look a little bit more alive. Singing and humming the songs while my body sways along to the music. The warm shower already helped bring some colour back to my cheeks and old One Direction songs bring life back to my soul.
I turned the volume down to a pleasant background music level when I’d dried off my hands. The reduction of noise in the bathroom has allowed me to hear the music that’s being played in another part of the house.
Right now, I’m pretty sure Justin Bieber’s ‘Yummy’ is the song of choice.
My own, and his music mixing together is kind of confusing, especially when at one point I was listening to ‘Everything I Wanted’ and he was listening to ‘Blurred Lines’.
It was a combination, that’s for sure.
Once I’m pleased with how my head looks, I untuck the towel from my body and get dressed. The fresh hoodie and sweatpants feel soft and comfortable as I pack all my toiletries back into my suitcase.
53 minutes. I’d say 53 minutes is a pretty alright amount of time to get ready and packed. For effective people, it might still be long. But for me, a procrastinating, slow, stress-hating slob, I just won an Olympic gold medal in speed and efficiency. Even my floor time was cut short.
I meet Harry in the hallway, my hands occupied with my suitcase and loose items I haven’t packed yet.
It was a question, but he is already taking my suitcase from me and carrying it down the stairs. I dreaded it, but he does it with ease. As if all I had in there were feathers and not a week’s worth of clothes.
I mumble a thank you as I follow him, registering that he also went for a more comfortable outfit. Grey sweatpants and a dark brown hoodie that’s bunched just over his ass. I focus on not tripping over my own feet on my way down the stairs.
Unless the actual fall didn’t kill me, I think the embarrassment of it would’ve taken me out.
Harry leaves the suitcase by the bottom of the staircase, turning around to face me so he’s walking backwards the rest of the way to the breakfast. His head is tilted sideways, and his eyes are glued to my face as if he is studying it.
“Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”, I joke before I can start blushing too much. I’m not used to feeling like someone is staring into my soul.
“Ok.” Harry stops in his steps, hollowing his cheeks. He reaches for his pack pocket, pulls out his phone and snaps a photo of me with my jaw pretty much on the floor before I even have the chance to react.
The sound of the camera shutters capturing one, two, three photos is what it takes for me to snatch the phone out of his hands before he can take any more.
“You’re such a dick, omg.”, I whine when I realise that he shut the phone off before I could get it. He just laughs and takes it back. He steps behind me, gently pushing me to sit by my shoulders, giving them a good squeeze when once I'm sat. “I was just doing what you told me to do, sunshine.”
“I didn’t mean for you to actually take a photo, H.”, I grumble. But when Harry slides onto the stool next to me, I take in the layout in front of me and I can’t keep the bloody smile off my face.
Harry is looking at me expectantly, a smug smile on my face at my change of attitude.
I love food, what can I say?
He’s cut up strawberries, watermelons and kiwis. Blueberries, raspberries and grapes. All of it is in separate bowls. And while I’m just sitting here gawking, he retrieves orange juice, milk and yoghurt from the fridge.
“I didn’t know what you preferred. I just remembered that you said you usually eat fruits and stuff for breakfast. But if there is something else you want just, let me know and I’ll see if I have it. Or I could run to the store and get-”
“Hey, hey. Stop.”, I grab his hand to make him stop rambling. “This is wonderful, Harry.”
“You sure? I could make you eggs if you want that. Or pancakes.” His bottom lip is back between his teeth again.
I take a deep breath, making sure I look him straight in the eye so he knows I mean it. “Listen, Harry. I love fruits. This is incredible. Even if I didn’t like it, I would still eat it as if it was my favourite meal.”, I gesture to the fruits, momentarily letting go of his hand before grasping firmly it again. “You’re so kind and generous, H. Don’t you see how incredible you are?”
Harry blows out through pursed lips, giving my hand an appreciative squeeze. “If you’re gonna keep randomly saying shit like that to me, we’re gonna need some ground rules.”, he’s already on by the window again, the click of the kettle being turned on explains why he got up so quickly.
“What are you talking about?”, I ask as he makes his way back to his stool.
The man looks me dead in the eye. “Saying things that make me want to cry.”
I feel my face fall as I go from being amused to guilty and I’m about to apologise for saying something wrong when he adds, “In a cool way.”, with a smirk. Way too pleased with himself.
“God, I hate you.” I bury my face in my arms rested on the table in annoyance and embarrassment at how easily he played me.
“Aw. I love you too.”, he snickers, patting my shoulder.
I shrug him off me, giving him a scowling pout. “You’re not funny, you know,”
“Hold on.”, he says, unlocking his phone. He’s scrolling through something with his thumb. His eyebrows are pinched together in concentration as I patiently wait for him to find what he’s searching for.
The kettle has just started making the high pitch, whistly sound it does right before the water is done. Does this man have an electric kettle that whistles?
“Did you break your kettle?”, I ask as I slide off the stool, grabbing the two mugs as I make my way over to the window.
His eyes are still trained on his phone. “No. Why?”
“Cause it whistles. Mine did that when I broke it.”, I explain.
“How do you even break a kettle?” Harry looks at me puzzled as I am separating the string and tag from the teabag itself before dropping the bags of dried leaves into the mugs. “And it whistles because it’s supposed to.”
“If it doesn’t, I always forget that I put it on. And then I have to refill it and boil the water again and it becomes a whole thing.”, he justifies his kettle when I just stare at him. “This way, that doesn’t happen.”
“Whatever works for you, H.” It’s actually a pretty smart idea. Not that I would ever tell him I think he’s done something smart.
So instead, I change the topic. “What are you looking for over there?” The frustrated way he’s been scrolling for the last minute is what lead me to the assumption that whatever he wants to find, isn’t where he thought it would be.
Normally people don’t look like they want to fling their phone to the wall over plant videos.
“Proof that you think I’m the funniest man alive.”
“And where’s that?” I make my return to the kitchen island with one steaming cup of tea in each hand, making a silent prayer that I don’t trip.
When the hot drink is right in front of him, he thanks me, giving himself a break from the search to take a small sip.
“Fuck me!” Harry’s entire face scrunches up in discomfort, “That’s hot.”
I’m clenching my teeth together to keep myself from cackling, “It’s tea. It’s supposed to be hot.”
“Not that hot!”, he cries in frustration, speeding over to the freezer, ripping it open and stuffing a handful of ice cubes into his mouth in an attempt to soothe the pain.
But when he closes the freezer and turns around again, I can’t help but burst out laughing. Harry’s mouth is so full of ice that it’s wide open. His cheeks have him looking like a hamster from how full they are. And I can see an ice cube slowly but surely sliding out from between his teeth as if it was a slow-motion video before it shatters against the floor.
Harry’s standing straight up and down looking at me with a severely unimpressed expression on his face while I physically can’t stop the loud belly laughter from coming out of me.
It isn’t until I fall off the stool from how hard I’m laughing that his eyes smile.
I don’t even feel my body hit the floor. The laughter just keeps coming and taking over my every muscle as it feels like my lungs are neither sucking in nor expelling enough air.
His feet are like glued to the same spot on the floor, them being the only part of him I can as I physically can’t bring myself to lift my head from the floor anymore. That’s until after what feels like an eternity, my laughter finally dies down and I’m left panting for air like a dog on a sticky hot summer day.
I tilt my head to the side to find Harry crouched down next to me, amusement lighting up his features. “Does it look like I’m fucking ok?”
He squints at me, “Do you really want me to answer that?”
When I left my apartment in New York last week, I was filled with so much excitement and happiness over the weekend I knew I was about to have.
I’d been nearly bursting with it.
It had been a long, long time since I felt like I could scream from just pure joy.
I was going to hop on a plane and fly to LA. I would be seeing some of the most amazing artists perform among thousands upon thousands of people. I’d be seeing my favourite songs be played live for the first time in my life.
There had been this conviction inside me that Coachella would be the highlight of my trip to the city of angels. Hell, I thought it would be one of the best things to happen to me in my 24 years of living. And in one way, I was right. But I could’ve never even in my wildest dreams dared to hope for what became the aftermath of Coachella.
Never have I even attempted to convince myself that I would ever have the chance to talk to him for even a second, let alone have a whole ass conversation.
But oh my god, how happy I am that conversation happened.
I like to think that it’s karma for always walking my neighbour’s dog for free back home for a month when Mr Hendrick broke his leg.
It rained a lot that fall.
The last three days have felt like I all the angels have blessed my existence. Angels I’ve been wishing would show up at times when I’ve been at my lowest.
Harry has felt like that angel.
I don’t even know how to put it into words. But when people have been saying that he is the definition of human sunshine, they weren’t wrong. Just a person being so genuinely good is something I feel incredibly lucky to have witnessed and experienced.
Even though I’m kind of sad that it’s all about to be over, I’m going to carry this with me for the rest of my life.
“What are you thinking about, sunshine?” Harry taps my arm to get my attention, making me snap my head to the right. Diverting my attention from the ocean and my thoughts and over to him.
“This might sound weird.”, I start, looking away again when his stare becomes too intense. “But I’m going to miss this.”
I don’t notice that I am chewing on my bottom lip until Harry squeezes my chin and I’m automatically letting it go. “Tell me.”
I don’t know what it’s about him, but instead of giving him the sarcastic and safe answer I would usually give to avoid vulnerability, I’m honest.
“Los Angeles. The sun. This fucking view, man.” Harry chuckles when I gesture to the ‘out of a novel’ worthy view in front of us. “Because this is just stunning.” A small pause to steady my voice, “Then I might miss you when I go back home.”
“Are you gonna miss me? Or are you gonna miss my sheets?”
Hearing the smile and playfulness in his voice makes me smile so wide my cheeks hurt as his shoulder bumps mine. “Why can’t it be both?”
“It would be really good for my ego if you liked me better than fabric.”, Harry frowns. “Plus, you would’ve never even felt my sheets if it weren’t for me. So just for that, I should be number one.”
I pretend to think about it, tapping my chin and staring him directly into his eyes when in reality, I’m just taking a moment to appreciate the sound of the waves since I don’t know when I’m going to get to be in a place like this again. The briny smell of the water was carried to my nostrils by the breeze.
Back home, everything is so chaotic. All the smells and noises overlap with one another. There’s something so serene about getting away from that. Even if it’s just for a short amount of time.
“You can share first place with your sheets.” When his frown deepens, I shake my head at him with a light laugh. “Final offer.”
Putting his hands on his hips, tilting them to the side as if he is a teenager about to tell off his parents for refusing to give him permission to stay out past his curfew. “See, I was going to give you this whole heartfelt speech about how you’ve probably changed the trajectory of my life since you’ve been here. And how when you leave, it’s going to feel like a piece of my soul was packed in your suitcase-”
Confusion takes over his sass as he stops talking mid-sentence, “I lost track of where I was going.”
“Mhm.”, I hum, choking back a laugh as I try to cover my smile with my hands.
Harry gives himself a good ten seconds, his pointer finger angled towards the sky as he tries to remember where he left off before he gives up and lets his arms drop, his hands smacking against his outer thighs. “It’s gone.”
“That’s one thing your speech and I will have in common in three hours.”, I joke, wiggling my eyebrows despite the lack of appreciation he is showing for my joke.
“Aw. Don’t worry, grumpy.”, I coo, taking his face between my hands. “You can always come visit whenever you’re in New York.”
I regret saying it almost momentarily when a cheeky grin breaks out on his face.
“I might just take you up on that.”