She likes boys with blonde hair. That’s all I’ve ever seen her with while she smiles fondly up at them, or holds onto their pasty-ass arm. Who wants to date someone who’s that pale? At parties, she’s the one inside dancing on the table, wearing short skirts, and always on the arm of a blonde, tall, broad shouldered rugby player. And me? I’m outside watching from the window as they kiss, blowing white clouds, and looking at the stars. Just me and the stars. And she’s inside pulling his golden hair, as she reaches up, up, up, to stand on her toes trying to reach his height because he’s so damn tall. He picks her up and just like that they’re gone.
And when I see her now, for a second I’m pulled back into that moment of her trying to reach the ceiling and me and the stars, and how we never seem to align.
I didn’t know she had a dog. A dog was a big deal. Everything about the dog makes someone get to know a person better: the breed, the color, the hair length, big, small, it all matters. I saw her as I’m throwing Lucy a small football. She awaits the pull of my arm, and anticipates the throw so she can run and bring it back. Dogs aren’t allowed on campus, but Lucy is there anyway. I told my RA that since I don’t have a roommate, and my loneliness is too overwhelming for me to do well in my classes, I need Lucy to keep my company. He rolled his eyes and told me to get a girlfriend. So basically Lucy is illegal to school rules and regulations. Who followed those anyway?
Every Saturday we venture to the park, which gives her an excuse to run around, and me an excuse to smoke, something not allowed in my room, but when I’m desperate I do it anyway. But I’ve never seen Skye Butterfield here before. That girl is always wearing a fucking skirt even in freezing weather. The trees are half bare with its burnt leaves on the grass awaiting to be crunched, and raked, and taken away from their home. And I know I’m staring, but its hard not to when she looks good at eight in the morning. Her corduroy skirt matches the leaves; thick stockings suffocate her legs, with a big jacket enveloping her. A small dog (of course it’s a King Charles, I roll my eyes) bounces around her feet as she messes with the bun on top of her head.
I look up at the clouds wishing it wasn’t so damn bright and that I could hide. But then she’s walking over, a hop in her step and a smile on her lips. And I pause not knowing whether to put my cigarette out or not. I do it anyway as a precaution.
“Can you please tell me your secret so I can train my dog to do that?” She laughed and took the ball from Lucy’s mouth and chucked it in the distance.
“Good arm,” I commented.
Her head whipped towards me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Thanks. My brothers play rugby. Musta’ taught me a thing or two. What kind of dog is she?”
“Golden retriever called Lucy, but she’s on the smaller side. What about yours?” I already knew the answer, just wanted to be polite.
She threw the ball again while saying, “King Charles called Mac.”
I nodded even though she wasn’t looking at me. I looked at my watch and noticed I needed to be at football practice in a half hour. But I didn’t want our moment to end so soon. I’ve been drooling over Skye Butterfield since freshman year. Now as juniors, I gave up on the hope of ever being with her. And now that we were talking this was my moment. My moment to say something flirt or witty, swoop her away like every other blonde guy does. But she wasn’t even paying attention to me; she was looking fondly at my dog. Probably because she was blonde.
I laughed at the thought, which caused her to turn around.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” I bit my lip to stifle my smile.
She squinted her eyes. “I know you.”
“No you don’t.”
“Do to. You play footie, right?”
“Wrong guy, sorry.”
“Oh shut up. Yes you do! I’ve seen you on the field. Last name starts with a T…”
I thought about it. “Doesn’t mean you know me.”
“It means I know of you. Skye Butterfield, nice to formally meet you.” She held her hand that was accompanied by a soft smile.
She didn’t even remember that we already met.
“Louis Tomlinson.”
I didn’t know what to say after that. We just stared at each other. I never knew she had freckles. I glanced down at my watch again, and picked up Lucy’s lead to hook it onto her harness.
“I have practice soon,” I didn’t look at her. Didn’t want to think this was the last time I would be talking to her.
She got up from her crouched position. “I guess I’ll see you around then?”
“Maybe,” I pulled out my box of cigarettes and walked away.
-
And I did see her. Everywhere. Places I go everyday and never noticed her presence, but she was there; talking, laughing, that blond prick hanging off her arm, hovering so close. I looked away every time.
A week later, Skye stops me as I’m leaving the field after practice. I saw her jogging over, but put my head down instead.
“Hey! Wait up!”
I kept walking.
"Wait! Louis, I need to ask you a question!”
I slowed down but continued towards the locker room still. “What’s up?”
She fell into step with me. “So I saw you leaving the Block Hall which lead me to question where you keep Lucy if you live there.”
“In my room.” We came to a stop when we reached the door.
“But isn’t that against school rules?”
“It is. But I never get caught,” a smile played on my lips.
“Of course you don’t,” she rolled her eyes playfully.
“Yeah.” A pause. “Well, I kinda have to go in there so I can stop smelling like shit,” I laughed.
“No, yeah of course. I just…wanted to invite you to this thing I do. It’s silly. It’s this poetry reading thing I do sometimes on Thursday nights. I saw that you’re in my Intro to Poetry class and was just wondering if you would like to come? It’s stupid, so it’s not a big deal if…”
“No, that sounds cool. I’ll be there.”
Her smile reached her eyes. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Awesome. Okay, so it’s at the Waverly Café,” she started walking backwards. “I’ll see you there then?”
“Yeah. See you.”
A little bit of hope in my chest expanded.
-
Rick caught me leaving my dorm as I’m about to head over to the poetry thing. I didn’t want to explain myself when he asked me where I was going even if he was my best mate.
He laughed and said, “Didn’t know you were turning into Shakespeare.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not. I’m meeting someone there.”
That got his attention. “Who?!”
“Skye Butterfield.” His excitement faltered.
“Louis, that girl from freshman year? The one that you were obsessed with?”
“Oi! I was not obsessed with her. Stay out of my business man.” I started walking towards the stairs. I pulled my beanie down even lower. It was cold as fuck outside.
He called after me, “Make sure something real actually happens between you guys and tell me about it so I know your not lying.”
I flipped him off.
-
When I entered the small café I saw Skye sitting at a small table by herself looking over a piece of paper. She looked like she was concentrating so hard it hurt. The room was full, and someone was on stage testing the mic. I sat next to her, but she didn’t look up.
“With that look on your face you’re starting to make me nervous,” I commented.
She looked up and smiled sheepishly. “Sorry…just really anxious to get up there.”
“First time?”
“No.”
I smirked. “Ohhhh I get it. Your nervous because I’m here.” She rolled her eyes when I said that.
“Don’t flatter yourself… Are you reading too?”
“Not much of a poet,” I shrugged.
Skye laughed. “You know you’re taking a poetry class, right?” She brushed her hair over her shoulder and put her hand on her chin as if she just enlightened me. I leaned back into my seat.
“Just trying to broaden my horizons.”
That made her laugh again.
What was I even doing here? Should I ask about her tall, blonde boyfriend, Max, and how well he’s doing in rugby? Should I ask why she even invited me to this thing when we spoke for literally five minutes in a park? This whole occasion was making me nervous and my hand started shaking. I needed a smoke. I needed to do something that made me comfortable because sitting here was making me fucking anxious.
But I couldn’t leave now. The readings started, and the girl on stage was already crying about her dead plant. And when I looked over at Skye, she was leaning on the table with her elbows looking so intrigued. I couldn’t leave now, and that killed my shaken hand and clear lungs.
Five more readings occurred before Skye’s name was called. She took a deep breath, looked over at me and stood while pulling down her skirt. Always a fucking skirt.
Once on stage, she sat in the chair, adjusted the mic, closed her eyes, and began.
Tress, once so full
Turned bare
Flowers, once so blue
Wilted away
My heart, once so content
Has started feeling numb
And my hand, once so warm,
Now felt cold without your touch
She opened her eyes, and smiled at the crowd, but looked right at me when I started clapping loud and hollering, “Yeah, Skye!”
Everyone in the café turned around and stared at me while they were mid-snap, but my eyes were only on her. Skye came barreling off the stage with slightly pink cheeks.
“Louis,” she scolded, “This isn’t a footie match. You’re not supposed to scream my name.” Even though she was embarrassed she laughed anyway.
“But that was really good…sorry.”
“It’s fine. These people really need to lighten up sometimes.” This time she made me laugh.
I wanted to ask if her poem was about Max, but didn’t want her to think I was nosey. I silently prayed that they broke up. And I know Skye has a knack for going around with rugby players, and I know she has the reputation of a party girl, but she was so goddamn beautiful. I wanted our dogs to play in the park, and for me to teach Mac how to caught a ball in his mouth. I wanted to lie under the stars with her on Friday nights instead of going to parties, and talk about her future and what the meaning of life was. I wanted to hear more of her poetry and learn how to write some. I wanted to be more than someone left behind.
“I’ve never invited someone to hear me read before,” she said quietly.
“Not even your friends?”
“Nope.”
“Why did you ask me then?”
She stared at her poem while saying, “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s so easy to be around you. It’s hard to find people like that.”
“We’ve barley even talked,” I laughed.
Skye started into my eyes, “I feel like we’ve met before.”
“Because we have,” I all but yelled. How could she not remember me?
She nodded slowly.
“Freshman year. We had Calculus together, and then Biology, and you really saved my ass and helped me pass. You always told me I should stop smoking because it’s bad for the environment and for my health…. but then it all stopped second semester. You started dating him,” I looked up. She was already staring. “So, yeah. We never talked again.”
“Max? He’s a good guy, Louis.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure he is.”
She didn’t defend him again; just looked at me and then back towards the stage. Minutes went by before she talked away.
“You know what…I think you should read. Really express your feelings, and it will help you with class too.”
I scowled. “No seriously!” She said. “I think it would be really beneficial.”
I agreed half-heartedly after her incessant pleading. She squealed and said she will tell Anne, the coordinator, I would read in a couple weeks. Since this meant we shared something that she didn’t with anyone else, I wasn’t all that annoyed.
-
Rick came and sat next to me with a bottle of vodka in his hand. I snatched it from him and downed as much as my burning throat could handle. He pulled the bottle away from my mouth. I put the cigarette back in. We were in my usual spot: the grass outside the fucking obnoxious party, lying down, memorizing the stars.
“Mate, slow down,” he laughed.
I took a drag. “I want to forget.”
“Forget what?”
“The thought of them together.” I could sense the eye roll.
I’ve been to every Thursday night poetry reading for the past month. Skye told me about her mom and how she loves to bake pies (although she hates the taste of the sickly sweet apples), and her brothers who play rugby and how she sometimes feels like her parents care only about their dreams to go pro. I learned that up close her eyes are more hazel than brown, and she constantly applying cookie dough scented lip balm. I told her how I secretly loved poetry and that’s why I took the class. We talked our futures and how scary the world is.
She’s never once mentioned Max, yet every Friday at these fucking parties they are together.
“Louis, just do something about. We’re young and your drunk, and anything can happen in This. Very. Moment. Go live your god damn life.” He downed the rest of the bottle.
He was right. I was being completely pathetic. Staring up at these stupid stars while Skye was in there probably tonguing Max.
I threw the bud of my cigarette on the grass and walked back into the house, pushing my way through the sweaty bodies in search of her. The smell was making me nauseous. I found her in the middle of the living room having what seemed like a serious conversation with Max. I fucking hate the guy.
I could care less about him or his blonde hair, or how tall he is. This was my chance. My opportunity to change my life.
My pace increases and I step right in between their bodies and face Skye.
“Louis?”
It was now or never. I bent down and kiss her on her stupid lips. And at first she’s still, but then we’re kissing. All slow and seductive. I could taste the cookie dough. And I feel it. The victory and hope rising over me. But then someone is pulling me away.
“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Max barks at the back of my head.
I don’t even turn around. Instead I look right into Skye’s eyes and whisper, “Please, just set me free if you don’t feel the same.” I lean my forehead on her and close my eyes.
“Louis…”
I pull away and walk back into the yard to leave before I hear what she says.
-
I didn’t go to the poetry reading that Thursday or the Thursday after. I only left my room for class, to take Lucy to the park, and smoke breaks. I was sick of the stale smell in my room. I actually mustered up the courage to try to talk to Skye when I saw her sitting at a table a lone in the cafeteria, but as I got up Max comes up behind her, kisses her on the head, and sits across from her. I felt fucking sick after seeing that.
How could I be so stupid to think that she actually liked me back? Was I reading too much into her friendliness? Probably. Its not like she has made an effort to try to contact me after our last encounter. She probably hates me now.
I received the call at half past two in the morning Wednesday night from an unknown number.
“Hello?” I answered groggily.
“Louis?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s Skye.”
I didn’t respond. A beat passed.
“Listen Louis, Anne called me today to confirm your reading for tomorrow. She really needs more readers and I just wanted to make sure you would still be there.”
I groaned. I forgot about that stupid fucking reading that Skye made me agree to.
“I don’t think-”
She cut me off. “Louis, don’t do this for me. I know we haven’t talked. And I want to. Trust me I do. Tomorrow night, though, I want you to read because I know that’s what you want to do. Do it for yourself.”
She was right. I did want to read. And what’s sad about it is I already have my poem written.
When I told her yes and got off the phone, I couldn’t ignore the pounding of my heart at the prospect of seeing her again.
-
When I got up to read, Skye was waiting at the table, but I couldn’t read her expression. My palms were sweaty and shaking for a cig, and I couldn’t remember the last time I took Lucy to pee. Shit.
I didn’t look at her. I couldn’t. I closed my eyes and began reading.
She is not the moon
Since it only shines during the night
She is not the Sun
Since it only shines during the day
She is not the stars
Since some shine brighter than others
She is the sky
Since it is constant
Whether it is blue
Gray
Or black
It is constant
She’s always there
Pure and beautiful
Short skirts and all
She is the Skye
When I opened my eyes and saw her smile, full and reaching towards her eyes, I thought maybe everything will be okay.
Disney lied to Dodie Slattery. To be fair, they’d lied about a lot of things. (She was still peeved about the “one day her prince would come” nonsense.) But the one she’d most recently discovered was that getting a puppy was not sunny romps in the park where she tangled leashes with a Labrador belonging to an attractive guy. It turned out to be a lot of missing socks, hogging the bed, and unidentifiable messes in the kitchen. But how could she resist that face? Or, a story about taking in strays, dognapping accusations, and joint custody of a pug.
Word Count: 6112
Warnings: None
Main Pairing: Harry/OFC
Disney lied to Dodie Slattery.
To be fair, they’d lied about a lot of things. (She was still peeved about the “one day her prince would come” nonsense.) But the one she’d most recently discovered was that getting a puppy was not sunny romps in the park where she tangled leashes with a Labrador belonging to an attractive guy. It turned out to be a lot of missing socks, hogging the bed, and unidentifiable messes in the kitchen.
But how could she resist that face?
Dudley snuffled in his sleep, digging his face into Dodie’s thigh and nearly kicking Pudge in the face. When she’d scooped up a tiny, muddy pug from a clump of bushes almost two weeks ago, she never thought he’d become a permanent addition to the family. In fact, she’d had all intentions of cleaning him up and dropping him off at the nearest shelter. But then he’d curled up next to her own pug, Pudge, in front of the radiator. Dodie’d taken about fifty pictures and posted them all to Instagram. Suddenly, The Muddy Park Pug had a proper name and a place in her bed.
“Oi, shove off of Pudge.” The older pug snorted in agreement as Dodie picked up Dudley and carried him into the kitchen. “How about some dinner and then a walk in the park?” The puppy’s ears shot up at the mention of a walk. “Yes, a walk. That’d be fun, huh?”
Oh God.
She was one of those people who talked to her dogs.
She’d never done that when it was just Pudge. But two pugs, and suddenly she’s talking to them like they’re people. Dodie really needed some human friends.
The tinny rattle of kibble hitting the bowl lured Pudge from his place on the couch. He lumbered into the kitchen and shoved his face into the bowl next to Dudley’s. (Dodie may or may not have sent Niall a snapchat of their curly tails with a lot of exclamation points.) She made herself a cheese toastie and sat on the counter, watching the pair of pugs lick up the crumbs. “Ready, boys?” Their nails (that probably needed a trim) clacked across the fake hardwood as they ran for the front door. There was the usual flurry of excited whimpering and face licking before she could finally snap leashes onto both of their collars and head outside.
Dodie took a deep breath once they had successfully navigated the elevator and stepped outside. The whole city seemed to be shaking out summer’s staleness. The trees began to shed their green coats and mosaics of bright reds and oranges started filling the horizon of the park. But as nice as the cooler weather and pretty colors were, Dodie’s favorite part about fall was that it meant less children running around St. James. She smiled at the elderly couples and infants with their nannies as she, Pudge, and Dudley strolled to their favorite spot. From their usual bench at the curve of the large pond, she could see both the London Eye spinning slowly and the local Pelican flock squawking for scraps. Pudge liked to keep an eye on the birds almost twice the size of him. Dudley liked to chase them. Dodie liked sitting on her bench.
The peace and quiet she usually enjoyed wrapped up in a scarf and jumper that was two sizes too big had been disturbed by Dudley’s barking and yanking on the leash. For example, today it seemed the nap he’d taken early had invigorated him beyond typical puppy enthusiasm. He nipped at Pudge’s heels. He tried to jump into the pond three times, and Dodie spent twenty minutes trying to pry a large rock out of his mouth.
“Christ’s sakes, Dudley. Let go!” She pried his bottom jaw away from the stone and barely had a few seconds to catch her breath before Dudley darted off again, leash snaking out of her hands before she could grab it. “Dudley! Dudley!” The pug finally stopped running when a piece of paper skittered across the ground. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Spit that out too.”
Dodie carefully picked bits of shredded paper out from between his teeth. “You’re mental. Pudge was never this much trouble.” Dudley huffed as she took away his latest infatuation and began sniffing at the ground. “What did you pick up?”
She unfurled the damp flyer Dudley had gnawed the edges of, but the words LOST DOG were still readily identifiable. A large picture below the heading depicted a small pug puppy. A pug puppy that happened to look exactly like Dudley, down to the splash of white on his chest and the way his left ear cocked up slightly. Feeling a tight pinch of dread at the base of her spine, Dodie read the rest of the drool-covered paper. IF FOUND, PLEASE CONTACT H. STYLES. A string of numbers that were presumably H. Styles’ mobile number followed.
“Well, I do believe you had a home before this after all, Dudley. That’s probably not your real name. I bet it’s Dusty or Darcy or Max or something ridiculous like that,” she said, scratching at the spot behind his ears.
Dodie stared down at the tiny pup now trying to convince Pudge to chase after a squirrel with him. She’d only had him for two weeks, but she’d grown attached to the little bugger. She liked the way he snuffled in his sleep and curled into her neck when he wanted a cuddle. He didn’t shred her socks, just dragged them out of the laundry basket and piled them all in her closet. With his his lopsided ears and the way his whole body shook from side to side when he was really happy, it was no wonder she’d gotten attached in two weeks.
Ever since Liam had moved out of the flat after proposing to Sophia, Dodie’d been living alone in a place meant for three. And try as she might to stay busy with classes and picking up odd hours at The Park Lane Hotel and keeping two pugs entertained, it wasn’t enough. There were too many hours left for thinking. Thinking about the fact that her best friend had moved back to Ireland to be closer to his family. Or maybe thinking about the fact that her only relationship in the last three years ended six months ago because he thought she wasn’t going places. Dudley might have been nowhere as life-consuming as a boyfriend, but he’d taken her mind off of things.
For a moment, a moment so brief she only felt the guilt of it barely brush across her conscious, Dodie considered throwing the flyer in the trash and forgetting about it. She could convince herself the sad pup in the picture wasn’t Dudley and could go on living with two pugs.
But then she remembered when her cat had run away when she was seven. She’d cried so hard she’d thrown up and refused to go to school for three days. What if Dudley/Dusty/Max/Whatever was some other kid’s bedtime buddy? What if he usually slept on a cushion in a newlywed’s kitchen? What if he was some old man’s walking buddy?
Dodie glanced down at the pugs dozing under the bench in a spot of sunlight. With one more look at the flier, she sighed and pulled out her phone. “Damnit…”
It rung several times, for so long a flutter of hope beat in Dodie’s chest that maybe she’d get to keep him after all. But then a gravelly voice answered with, “ ‘Llo?”
“Hi, is this an H. Styles?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
She scratched at a stain on her jeans before continuing. “M’ names Dodie Slattery, and I might have your dog.”
Styles’ became a bit more animated at the mention of his dog. “You’ve got Einstein? Brilliant.”
Einstein, she mouthed at the dog twitching with sleep. “Yes, I’ve just found your flier in St. James. Well, Dudley—er, Einstein—found it. I’ve been calling him Dudley. Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get that engraved tag.”
“Exactly how long have you had my dog?”
“Two weeks, but I—”
“Two weeks? Two weeks?! That’s almost bloody dog-napping!”
“Oi! I didn’t know he had a home. I found him in a mess behind some bushes and cleaned him up. Never saw any fliers around the park until now. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Where can I meet you?”
Dodie glanced down at her watch before answering. “I’m at St. James right now if you’re in the area, by the big pond where you can see the Eye.”
“I can be there in fifteen minutes.” There was some rustling on the other end before H. Styles cleared his throat and hung up.
She stared at her phone for a few moments as END CALL flashed across the screen. “Well, Einstein, your Mr. H. Styles doesn’t seem very pleasant. We’ll just wait for him to show up, I guess.” The pug in question stretched lazily before he launched after a flock of low-flying pigeons. Dodie sent Niall a snapchat of her pouting with the caption “dudley’s got a family LLLLL” A few seconds later her phone buzzed, and Dodie opened up to a shot of the bottle-blonde shedding a fake tear with a few crying emojis.
They texted back and forth a bit about how much Niall had missed Ireland and how good craic it was to be home with the lads again. But when her responses to that slowed down to one word, he switched tactics. He told her that he missed Pudge, the creaky radiator, and her famous cheese toasties. (They really were legendary. Liam used to bring people over to the apartment just to try them. That was how she’d met Quinn actually. Quinn who had moved back to Manchester after a semester and left her sobbing in the bathtub with Pudge and a bottle of wine. But she was over that, right? Right.)
She was jolted out of her internal monologue by a set of long fingers tapping on her shoulder.
Dodie jolted, knocking Einstein off of the bench. She turned around to find a guy about her age standing behind her. He was dressed ridiculously—even by London standards—two plaid shirts, tight black skinny jeans, and woven fedora perched on a mess of dark brown curls. The man she presumed to be Mr. H. Styles slid his sunglasses off his face and hung them from his collar.
“You’ve got my dog.” His voice was much smoother than it had been over the phone, and it made something in the pit of her stomach flop.
Hearing his owner’s voice, Einstein bolted out from under the bench and immediately ran for H. Styles. His whole body wiggled with the force behind his tail (or rather, nub) wagged. The man laughed and scooped him up. “Hey bud, miss me?” Einstein slathered his face in licks and wriggled into his chest just like he did when Dodie was trying to sleep.
Reunion over, the boy put Einstein back on the ground and turned to Dodie. “He’s alright.”
“Course he is. I didn’t hurt him. You’re the one that let him get away and didn’t put many posters up about it,” she said, holding Pudge close to her chest.
Styles eyed her pug distrustfully. “Is that one yours?”
“Yes! My roommate gave him to me for Christmas last year.”
He flung up his hands defensively. “I was just asking since you seem so fond of picking up strays.”
“Only if they’re wandering around the park after dark covered in mud and whimpering! Honestly…”
“He slipped out of his collar and got away while I was picking up his shit.” H. Styles snapped, curling a hand around Einstein’s body. “I looked for three hours before it got too dark, and I’ve had posters up everywhere for two weeks: around the parks, in student housing, Costa Coffee, pet stores, shelters, everywhere. But it turns out he’s been with you the whole bloody time.” They glared at each other, breathing heavily now that they were done shouting. (Dodie tried to ignore the way his shirt pulled away from his chest more to expose a couple of swallows tattooed across his collarbones.)
He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, before he exhaled and turned to Dodie. “Thank you for taking care of him.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”
Dodie set the Pudge down and let the two pugs romp away at the ends of their leashes while she shook Harry Style’s hand. “Dodie Slattery, and this is Pudge.” She pointed at the overweight pug attempting to sit on Einstein’s head.
Harry bent down to the dogs’ level and stretched out a hand for Pudge to sniff. “Pleasure to meet you, Pudge. Thanks for looking after Einstein.” The pug glanced up at Dodie, as if to make sure it was safe, before he tentatively placed a paw on Harry’s knee and licked his cheek.
“You’re in for life with that one now,” she said, trying to hold back a smile as Pudge licked at his face enthusiastically.
“Great. I love making dog friends.” He ruffled Einstein’s ears. “This one’s been needing some socialization, but I’ve been working so much I haven’t had time to take him to any off leash parks lately.”
“What do you do?”
Harry straightened up and tucked some of his curls back under his fedora. “Working in a bakery during the mornings, mostly. Have you ever been there? It’s called Barbara’s, off of Dover just a few blocks from here?”
Dodie vaguely recalled a tiny brick face building squished between a barber shop and an acupuncturist. “Been past it once or twice. And what else do you do?”
“Pretty obvious?” he asked sheepishly, trying and mostly failing to keep Einstein from bolting after a Pelican.
“You don’t seem like the type to spend your days working in a bakery for the rest of your life. Although I’m sure your scones are divine.”
“I’ll have you know my blueberry-lemon scones sell out every week.”
Dodie snorted. “Yeah, and I’m sure that’s got nothing to do with your curls and those dimples.”
Harry smiled lopsidedly. “Was that almost a compliment?”
“If you squinted maybe.”
His left dimple sunk a little further into his cheek.
“So you’re a baker by day, but by night, what do you do? Save London from baddies? Lead vocals in a band? Work pro bono at a law firm?”
His laugh was something like a song, light and melodic in a way that lightened the weight in Dodie’s chest a bit. “Nothing like that. I help one of my uni mates out with his radio show. I don’t talk or anything, just help produce it.”
“Anything I’d have heard?”
“Mostly a student thing, you know? But I’m hoping to get to BBC one day.”
“And then I could call in and say, ‘Remember me? I’m the girl you thought stole your dog?’”
Harry glanced down at Einstein and Pudge chewing on a large stick together. “Yeah. Good times.” His phone beeped, and his fingers flew across the screen. “Sorry, but I’ve got to go. Meeting with my sound engineer across town, and I can’t take this little guy with me. Thanks for looking after him.”
He had only walked a few meters away before Dodie found herself shouting after him. “Harry!” He turned around halfway through shoving his sunglasses back up his face. “I could watch Einstein for you. He clearly gets on with Pudge and that way you wouldn’t be late trying to drop him off.”
Harry rubbed at his chin while looking between Dodie and Einstein. “I guess that’d work. You’ve got my number if something goes wrong, and I could just meet you back here when I’m done.”
“Sure.”
Harry crouched down to scratch the snuffling pug under his chin before straightening up. “Alright then, I’ll call you when I’m done.” He stared at Dodie for a heartbeat longer before he shoved his hands into his pockets and sauntered off in the direction of the tube station.
“Alright, pups. Guess we have time for one more romp around the park before we head back for the evening.” Pudge grunted and sighed wearily as Einstein flopped on top of him.
Maybe they could just spend a few minutes watching the Pelicans.
***
The buzzer for Dodie’s apartment began ringing at 6:15. Normally, she’d be miffed that somebody interrupted her few minutes of telly time, but the slow voice at the end of intercom suddenly made it okay.
Harry was early. He’d said 6:30, and it was 6:15. The inconsiderate bastard, didn’t even give her time to straighten up. Dud—no, Einstein—had dragged one of the afghans across the hallway and there might have been a stack of dishes (most of the dishes Dodie owned if she was being honest) in the sink that desperately needed a scrub. But before she had time to throw a towel over the mess, a knock came from her front door.
“Who is it?” Dodie asked.
She could practically hear Harry grinning. “You’ve got my dog.”
“And your surname?”
“Give me my dog.”
“Interesting name.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dodie. You’re a nutter.” Trying to hide the smile fighting its way across her face, Dodie opened the door and let him stumble across the threshold. “You said your flat was close to the park. Six blocks is not close.”
She just rolled her eyes at him, shaking a packet of tea bags in his direction. He nodded, and she put a kettle of water on to boil. “Has anyone told you that you complain a lot?” Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”
The only sounds for a few minutes was the general clatter of the kitchen as Dodie tried to surreptitiously stuff the dishwasher while Harry’s eyes wandered around the room. The kettle whistled shrilly, and she quickly pulled it off the tiny hob and poured the hot water into two awaiting mugs.
“Four sugars, please,” Harry said, pushing his chair away from the table.
“Four?”
“Don’t mock. What do you put in yours?”
“One sugar and a twist of lemon.”
His mouth puckered up sourly. “Gross.”
Harry was interrupted from further berating Dodie’s choice of tea by the scratch of claws on the floor. Einstein skittered around the corner, barreling into Harry’s ankles. “Hey E,” he murmured. The tiny pug arched up into his touch and grunted when Harry scooped him up and fed him one of the crisps Dodie’d left laying out on the counter. “Well, he seems to be fine.”
“Course he’s fine. I bloody took care of him for two weeks, didn’t I? One afternoon’s not much fuss.”
Harry at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Sorry, ‘s just…he’s my best mate. Stupid as it sounds.”
“No, I get it,” Dodie said as he followed her into the living room and sunk onto the dilapidated love seat. “Both of my mates moved out six months ago, and I don’t know if I’d leave the flat if it weren’t for Pudge.”
“What a pair we make,” she said as they both looked at the two pugs squabbling over a grimy tennis ball.
The old radiator rattled on under the window, nearly scaring the life out of Einstein. Pudge, stoic as always, promptly plopped in front of it and curled up with his nose tucked into his tail. Dodie heard an Irish voice somewhere in the back of her head encouraging her to “Talk! Make a joke! Say somethin’ you ninny.” Harry sipped at his tea and glanced around the room. She tried to contain the urge to cover up all incriminating photos and hide the bits and bobbles scattered about.
From her perch on the lumpy recliner she could see a tattered boarding pass for a train to Paris from her sixth form trip. A collection of cheesy magnets from Brighton covered nearly every inch of the fridge. Hanging in a place of honor on the wall above the TV was a large, framed photo of Dodie’s London family: a younger Pudge wiggling in her arms with Niall laughing at the pair of them while Liam attempted to maintain a proper smile, a smile that was beginning to edge into genuine as the corners of his eyes squished up in delight.
“It’s a bit small,” she found herself saying apologetically.
“Nah. ‘T’s homey. Those your roommates?” Harry nodded at the picture.
“Yep. Niall’s the blonde one, and that’s Liam there trying to keep a straight face.”
Harry studied it for a minute. “You look happy.”
“They’re my best mates.”
“But they moved out?”
Dodie’s tongue felt clumsy in her mouth as she struggled to curb the hurt that tended to bleed through her words. “Niall’s Irish, and he wanted to be closer to his family. Brother just had a baby. He wanted to be a proper uncle and all. And then Liam went and fell in love with a bird he’s been head over heels for since secondary. Proposed six months ago. They’re getting married next year.”
She could feel Harry’s pitying stare Harry burning the side of her face but refused to meet his gaze. “But…” he cleared his throat and started again, “but you’ve got Pudge.”
“Yeah, I do, the git.” Dodie wiggled her fingers under Pudge’s chin and was rewarded with a sloppy kiss on the cheek before he scrambled out of the recliner and after Einstein.
“Well, I guess that brat and I should get going.” Harry stood up and stretched, a small sliver of tan stomach exposing as he did so. Threading one hand pushing through his curls, he lazily whistled after the wrestling pugs. Einstein detached himself from the ruckus and ran straight into Harry’s arms. “I’m glad it was you who found him and not Cruella or something.”
“He was a delight.”
Harry scratched at the tip of his nose and lingered in the doorway as Pudge trotted after them into the entryway. “Pleasure to meet you, Dodie. You too, Pudge,” he added as the older pug snuffled into the cuffs of his jeans. With a short but blinding smile, he left, the sound of his heavy boots echoing down the hallway.
The first visitor she’d had in almost two months that wasn’t a postman delivering bills wasn’t even on the street yet, and she already missed having someone else around.
“Let’s go to bed, Pudge.” She was halfway to the bedroom when she realized the pug wasn’t tottering along beside her. “Pudge?” Dodie backtracked until she found him. He sat by the front door, attention focused on the handle as his nub of a tail twitched weakly. “C’mon, Pudge.” He whimpered once, twice, and then lay down across the faded welcome mat, still staring resolutely at the door as though Harry and Einstein were going to come through it at any moment. “They’re not coming back.”
Pudge didn’t move.
“Suit yourself.”
Dodie shucked out of her clothes that were covered in dog hair and slid into bed. She found herself squeezing onto a sliver of the left side before she realized there wasn’t a furry form kicking her out of the way.
It was hours before she finally fell asleep.
***
“Why the fuck are you calling me at 6:30?”
Dodie couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up before seven. Between late shifts at the hotel and taking mostly night classes during the school year, she’d come to value having a lie-in during the morning. She could take her time, roll out of bed, maybe pour a bowl of cereal or browse the headlines if she wanted before Pudge needed to go out. Which was why she snarled at Harry Styles when he called her before the sun had starting shining through her windows.
“My bloody dog howled his head off last night.”
“H-how is that my problem?” she said, trying to stifle a yawn.
“He didn’t want food or water or to play. And when I tried to take him on a walk, he started dragging me toward St. James.” Harry paused and sighed dramatically. “Apparently, he’s attached to Pudge.” There was a muffled scuffle on the other end of the line as Harry tripped over Einstein standing underneath his feet. “And another thing, did you let him sleep in bed with you because he wouldn’t stay on his pillow.”
“Might’ve let him sleep next to me.”
“Christ Almighty, ’m never going to sleep again.”
“Always so dramatic.” Harry huffed at her.
Pudge groaned and stretched awake, his blunt claws digging into the meat of Dodie’s thigh. To be fair, her own pug had been up most of the night as well. He’d kept watch by the front door until 1:30 when he’d slithered into bed with her. She’d had to endure another hour and a half of him rooting through the sheets, snorting, and generally being a menace before he’d finally dozed off. “Pudge was a shit about it, too.”
Dodie could hear Harry smirking over the phone. “Not the only dramatic one after all.”
“He was! The little shit kept looking for Einstein until he finally abandoned the search at 3 in the morning.”
Harry was silent for a few minutes, his end of the line quiet save for the familiar snuffle of a pug through the raspy speakers. “Maybe…” he trailed off, the word slipping out slowly like syrup from a cold bottle as though he was only just now learning how to say it. “Maybe we could meet for lunch or something and see if that helps. They’ve been together two weeks, and separating them so quickly is mean.”
“And having lunch is the solution?”
Harry hesitated. “Maybe.”
It took Dodie half a second to wrangle her thoughts away from double dates with their pugs around Hyde Park before she could ask, “Where?”
“There’s a pub on the water about half a kilometer from the Eye that’ll let us sit outside with the dogs,” he offered in a rush.
“Okay.”
“How about half past eleven?”
“Today?”
“Yup, half past eleven at The City Port. I’ll be the fit lad with a cute, four-legged mate.”
Dodie snorted. “I think you mean the faux-hipster with a tiny pug.”
“Bugger off, Slattery. Oi! Einstein, you nutter, put my socks down!” The dial tone cut through Harry’s squawks of protest.
***
Harry’s directions were a mixture of vague and just plain confusing. After few missed turns and new street-by-street instructions from a cashier at the chemist, she finally found a weathered wood until she finally found a weathered wood door underneath tiny sign that said The City Port. Figured that he’d pick a literal hole in the wall. Pleasant chatter from the bar served as ambient noise as she wove through the mismatched tables and chairs towards the deck. Dodie lunged forward as Pudge dragged her towards a table in the corner.
Harry hadn’t noticed her approach yet, flicking through his phone while he rolled his bottom lip between his fingers. She had to admit that there was something striking about him, like a Botticelli painting of the modern era: Portrait of Boy with Mobile. The long lines of his legs in ratty skinnies stretched underneath the picnic table, crossed neatly at the ankles. He’d forgone the open plaid shirt for a plain white tee that stretched across his shoulders. Einstein sat on the bench next to him, fixated on the water and the boats moving past him until he heard the rattle of Pudge’s collar zooming towards them.
With a happy snuffle, the smaller pug jumped off the bench and met Pudge in the middle with a greeting that consisted of lots of wiggly buts and a symphony of snorting. Harry finally looked up as the leash he was holding loosely between a few fingers suddenly jerked forward, nearly slamming his face into the table. He clucked at Pudge disapprovingly before twisting to smile up Dodie. “You made it alright?”
“Had ask for directions once or twice, but yeah, eventually,” Dodie said, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head.
Harry roll his eyes at her, clearing off his pile of stuff off from the bench. He opened his mouth to say something only to be interrupted by the waiter arriving to take their orders. Dodie glanced over the menu and picked the first thing she saw, not entirely unsure of what she’d said. Harry stared down at the foamy dregs of his pint, swirling the amber liquid at the bottom of the glass. The chips he’d apparently ordered before Dodie arrived were deposited on the table, and she carefully picked one of them apart, shredding it into tiny pieces that she snuck to Pudge.
Harry cleared his throat, shoved his phone to the side, and fixed Dodie with a steady stare. “So, you know I work on a radio show and have a pug who doesn’t listen to me…”
“And that you complain aggressively when you don’t get enough sleep.”
“Heeey…” he whined.
Dodie fixed him with a challenging stare.
“Fair point,” he conceded. “So you know all that about me, but I don’t know much about you.”
“Not much to know I guess.” Liam and Niall had always been the more interesting ones, the bright personalities people naturally gravitated towards. Dodie was just Dodie, Liam and Niall’s roommate. She owned a quirky pug and went to bed at four in the morning and ate too many cheese toasties. There wasn’t much to her past that.
Harry scoffed and cast around for a question. “Are you in uni?”
“Yep.”
He signaled the waiter for another two pints, shoving one into Dodie’s hands when it arrived. “And what are you studying?”
“Nothing exciting. Mostly business, but I’ve taken some biology courses as well.”
“Bit of opposites aren’t they?” Harry asked before he took a long sip of his beer.
She shrugged, destroying another chip while she talked. “Not sure what I want to do, and my advisor just said to study to my interests.”
“And you’re interested in business?”
“Not really. But me dad runs a little inn at home, and I think he hopes I’ll take it over one day.”
“And where’s home?”
“Brighton.”
“Pretty far to London.”
“Exactly.” They shared a smile over their glasses, and Dodie felt that easy nonchalance of the day before seep back into the conversation.
Harry questioned her for the rest of lunch. He wanted to know about her parents and Brighton and about why she was only thinking about doing further studying into marine biology. And when Dodie got tired of doing all the talking, she flipped the questions onto Harry. Before she knew it, he’d been telling stories about his friends Louis and Zayn for half an hour. Their food came and went in a rush of crumbs and hastily covered mouths when Harry burst into a laugh that sprayed crumbs all over the table. Einstein and Pudge dozed beneath their feet, exhausted from their exuberant greetings and attempts to chase the pigeons waiting for scraps on the railing.
She’d been having such a good time—probably the best time since Niall had moved out—that she didn’t even notice how late it was until her phone trilled in her pocket to alert her about her shift at the hotel. She frowned at it, the dread of saying goodbye filling her chest. Another fifteen minute friend she’d probably never see again.
“Do you have to go?” Harry asked in a pinched tone. Dodie nodded slowly, already pulling out a few notes out of her purse and attempting to untangle Pudge from Einstein. “Well, I’m glad—Einstein’s glad,” he quickly corrected, “you—both of you—could make it.” Einstein shoved his way into Harry’s lap, eying the cold chips left on his plate before the waitress scooped up their dirty plates.
She smiled at him as they pushed back onto the street now bustling with lunch traffic. Harry eased around a couple of business men, guiding her through the throng with a soft hand at the small of her back. The crowd cleared as they neared the park, and Harry immediately stepped away from her and shoved his free hand into his pocket. When they finally reached the street corner that led to Harry’s flat, Dodie stopped and stuck out her hand. “It was nice to meet you.”
Harry stared at her proffered palm before shaking it. Their hands lingered together, and Dodie hated it. Hated it because she could feel the callouses on his finger tips and the puckered scar snaking across the back of his hand. “Thanks for taking care of Einstein,” he finally said, pointing to the pug. Dodie nodded and immediately felt stupid for letting her head bob like one of those novelty items her nan collected. Finally pulling his hand away, Harry shook his curls away from his face, nodded, and headed towards his flat.
Pudge looked up at Dodie and huffed.
“I know,” she muttered to him, pulling the cuffs of her jacket over her hands and starting for home.
She wasn’t more than a hundred yards away before something sharp dug into the back of her calf. Dodie wheeled around ready to jump on some stupid secondary kid kicking rocks, but a wide-eyed pug with a lopsided ear looked up at her instead.
“Einstein!” Harry was running up the street, a leash and empty collar clattering behind him. He slowed when he noticed his dog had stopped at familiar feet.
“You might need a new collar,” Dodie told him with a smile as he scooped up the puppy.
“Maybe,” he said as he struggled to hold Einstein and clip the collar back on. Harry glanced back up at her, still holding his dog. “Guess this is good-bye take two, then.” He smiled tersely, just a quick twitch of his lips so tight it looked pained. Einstein skipped around, wiggling out of control like he didn’t know what to do with his body and this much excitement. Harry lifted his hand in a curt wave and tugged Einstein after him.
But the pug had other ideas. He darted forward to touch noses with Pudge, tangling their leashes together as he wove between Dodie’s legs. Harry stumbled forward and would have slammed into her if he hadn’t caught himself on the bench. Pudge and Einstein lurched towards the pond, and Harry and Dodie were suddenly flush chest to toes. She could feel him breathing, the ends of his curls brushing against her sternum when he inhaled. Harry was still staring at her, trying to channel his breathing as Dodie attempted to wiggle away. But the leashes just tightened around their ankles and Dodie tripped forward into his chest with her hands pressed between them. She didn’t want to think about how good the planes of his chest felt under her fingertips, but that felt like a dangerous train of thought.
“You idiots,” Harry finally said, half laughing at the pugs gleefully wagging their tails in complete ignorance of their owners trapped together. Holding one of her hands, Harry carefully started unraveling from the nylon mess, removing one of her ankles first and a knee that had been trapped between two of his thighs. Eventually they completely freed themselves and just stood a few feet from each other, smiling widely like idiots. Harry’s grin sort of stuttered like he lost the breath in his throat as he ran a hand through his hair.
“We might need to think about joint custody of Einstein,” Dodie said, trying to keep her voice even.
“Joint custody of my dog?”
“Clearly he’s attached to me and Pudge. I think a fair arrangement could be reached.” She couldn’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as Harry smirked at her.
“We might be able to work something out, but we’ll need to discuss it further, obviously.”
“Obviously,” she said, the smile starting to hurt her cheeks now.
“Maybe we should talk it out over dinner? Seven tomorrow?” Harry’s face split into a blinding grin when she nodded. “I’ll pick you up, and we can let Pudge and Einstein have a night in for themselves.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, edging closer to him.
