seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from France
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Argentina
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Walk the Moon's self-titled album :)
YYEEEES MY FAVORITE
Favourite Track: Quesadilla + I Can Lift A CarLeast Favourite Track: JennyUnderrated track: Fixin’ (i never heard it live wtf guys)Overrated Track: I don’t feel like any songs off Self Titles got gassed up except for Anna Sun which is a classic and i will never say a word against
hmu with album titles!
E, G, and H :)
E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?
I’m gonna pic my one shot 35,000 Feet to talk about and if I wrote a sequel to it, it would be about Allison and Ashton’s weekend in New Zealand!
G: Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?
It depends! For my fic The Only Reason the first three scenes I wrote are what ended up being the main scenes in chapter 16, 24, and 28 respectively. For my one shot Fall Line, I wrote it start to finish in order. Just depends on my mood and what it is.
H: How would you describe your style?
I don’t really know. I think my style improves as I go along, but I also think I have a distinct way of portraying my OC’s in how they’re relatable, if that makes sense. I guess my voice comes out in what I write and I think people familiar with my writing know that.
Thank you Caiti!!!! :)
Hi! I just wanted to stop by and say that I really enjoyed faded jeans and faded rooms! "Because you’re the only one in all this time who noticed me too" was such a powerful line and you delivered it beautifully!
Hey! Thanks so much for the kind words and for reading :) I really appreciate it! x
Kick Drum Beat in My Head
For: Kamy // @eccentricute
By: Caiti // @wordsbestforgotten
A story about knowing what you want and doing everything you can to make it happen.
Word Count: 5300+
Warnings: possibly language
Main pairing: OFC/Harry
I was going to kill Laney. And not one of those mercy killings where she wouldn’t feel a thing, no it was going to be a slow, tortuous affair that left her begging for me to end her suffering. I couldn’t believe she’d lied to me so blatantly. But all the proof I needed was right in front of me: three words, three seemingly innocuous words that shouldn’t bother me in the slightest. But when they followed ‘live tonight’ on a chalkboard outside our local college bar, I suddenly felt murderous. She was just lucky I didn’t want to spend my last real night of Spring Break locked behind bars.
I glared at my liar of a best friend for a moment, making sure not to look directly into her doe-like baby blue eyes, before spinning on my heel and heading back towards the bus stop. There was no way I was walking into that bar. What part of ‘not a chance in hell’ had Laney not understood?
“Cam, come on! We’re already here,” Laney pouted, grabbing my arm to stop me in my tracks.
“Because you lied to get me here!” I was practically fuming. It was one thing to cajole a friend into going out when you knew they’d end up having a good time. It was another thing entirely when deceit was used knowing that said friend would rather cut off a finger than be where she’d been tricked into going.
Laney knew how much I couldn’t stand watching Harry Styles and his band of merry men (‘men’ being a generous term) perform. They hardly ever seemed to practice; yet their band, Those Who Wander, booked ten times the number of shows my band did. Or had, since we’d broken up at the end of last year because the other girls wanted to spend their energy on ‘something that actually mattered.’ Sure, venues were more willing to book bands with bigger followings, but Harry and his boy band had an unfair advantage: Given the collective power of their jawlines, they could be reciting their shopping list in Klingon and girls would still show up to listen.
What? I didn’t like them. That didn’t make me blind.
“Come on, Cam,” Laney begged. “We can leave before they go on if it’s that big of a deal.”
It was then I made the mistake of looking directly into Laney’s sad, puppy-dog eyes. I was such an idiot. We’d been friends since our freshman year, and I still didn’t know how to say no to that face. I let out a long, exaggerated sigh as I turned back towards the bar. I knew no matter what we agreed, one we were inside, Laney would say something to convince me to stay. “You owe me for this,” I said as she squealed excitedly, already going on about how staying for one song couldn’t hurt as she dragged me through the door.
It only took twenty minutes for the night to go from bad to worse. Laney and I were standing at the bar, chatting with a few girls we knew from school when the one and only Harry Styles, with his stupid man bun and painted-on skinny jeans, sauntered up to the bar like he owned the place, leaning against the polished surface next to me. “Cam, glad you could make it.”
He flashed his brightest grin, his dimples causing a number of girls around us to practically swoon, but all it earned him was a scowl from me. Typical for him to assume I was here for him.
“And Laney,” – Harry smiled at my best friend – “nice to see you again.”
“It’s been awhile.” They both looked at me like it was my fault they didn’t hang out more often. Which technically it was, but they would have never even met if Laney hadn’t come home with me last winter break and gone with me to the Styles’ annual Christmas Eve party.
Thankfully, before Laney and Harry could exchange any more pleasantries, someone shouted his name from across the bar, and I turned to see a few of his bandmates waving him over. But the reprieve was short lived. “You should come sit with us,” Harry offered, gesturing to the corner booth where his four other band members sat sharing a pitcher of beer. “We have lots of room.”
I didn’t even have a chance to open my mouth before Laney was accepting for the both of us, shooting me a look that dared me to challenge her. I was so shocked that my feet started moving before my brain had a chance to catch up. I couldn’t quite figure out what I’d done to earn such a harsh look, but when I saw the look on Laney’s face as she slid into the booth next to Liam Payne, one of the guitarists, I had an inkling as to why I’d earned that death glare.
I suddenly felt awful for always forcing Laney to stay away from all things related to Those Who Wander. I didn’t even really know the other band members, refusing to befriend them simply because of their association with Harry. He was the one I had a problem with.
Something Harry seemed unable to comprehend as he roped me into a discussion with two of his other bandmates, Niall Horan – guitar – and Louis Tomlinson – drums. And I hated to admit it, but by the time they excused themselves to go play their set, I was actually sort of enjoying myself.
“Is that a smile I see?” Laney teased as she slid around the bench until she was sitting next to me, her eyes returning to Liam as he made a few last minute adjustments to his guitar.
I shrugged, toying with the label on my beer bottle as I kept silent. Harry wasn’t an awful person. It wasn’t like he kicked puppies or disrespected women. I just didn’t like what he represented. Harry always got exactly what he wanted, things that I’d busted my ass for and still didn’t get. And I understood how petty that made me sound, but it wasn’t something I could figure out how to move past. I knew the world was unfair, but I didn’t need to have him hanging around as a constant reminder.
I was saved from any further conversation as Harry tapped on his microphone, a hush falling over the crowd as he began to speak, thanking everyone for coming out and reminding their loyal fans to donate to their Kickstarter. I tuned him out, watching the other guys as they psyched themselves up for their show. I was particularly drawn to Louis, his pre-show ritual so different from mine even though we sat behind almost identical drum kits. Louis looked up and caught me staring, a knowing grin stretching across his face as he pointed a stick at me.
“Oh my god! Do you have a thing for Louis?” Laney shouted just as the thunderous applause of the crowd quieted.
I turned to her mortified, praying that we were far enough from the stage that no one had heard her. But, just my luck, when I finally found the courage to look back at the band – their first song almost over – I found all of them watching me, various levels of amusement in their eyes.
////
Six weeks later, I was stocking shelves in my dad’s shop when the chimes over the door sounded, alerting me that I had a customer. I stood, brushing my hands on the front of my jeans and looked over, expecting to see Ms. Johnson there to buy her weekly carton of cigarettes. No matter how many times I told her about all of the awful consequences of smoking, she always came back.
When I saw who it actually was, I almost wished it was Ms. Johnson, here to purchase her cancer sticks.
“Hey, Cam,” Harry grinned as he walked towards the coolers in the back. “How’s your summer going so far?”
“Well, since it just started yesterday, and I’m currently stuck working in my dad’s store, how do you think it’s going?”
Harry held up his hands in front of him defensively. “Calm down, sweetheart. Just trying to break the ice.”
“Why bother?” I asked rhetorically because I was an idiot who couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “You’ll be gone in a few minutes. Off to organize your world tour, no doubt.”
“World tour, huh? I’m surprised you think so highly of us,” Harry joked, grabbing a six pack from the cooler. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response, instead, turning to walk behind the counter so I could ring him up.
“I.D. please.” I held out my hand as Harry fished his wallet out of the back pocket of his ridiculously tight pants.
He stopped abruptly. “Seriously Cam? We have the same birthday.”
Like I could forget. The first time I didn’t have to share a birthday party with him was my first year at university. “Well, everyone still seems to think I’m fifteen, so let’s see it, Styles.” I stuck my hand out even further, wiggling my fingers until I felt the cool plastic of Harry’s driver’s license in my hand.
I didn’t even bother to stifle my laughter as I looked at the terrible DMV photo on Harry’s license. It looked like the camera flash had startled him mid-sneeze. I’d never been more grateful to work in my dad’s store.
“Yep, that’s you alright,” I choked out between gasps of air. My stomach was actually starting to hurt from laughing so hard.
“Yea, keep laughing,” Harry said, swiping the card from my hand and shoved it back into his wallet. “Just know if anyone ever finds out about this, you will regret it.”
“Is that a threat, Styles?”
“More like a promise, sweetheart,” he smirked, leaning against the counter as he made himself comfortable.
“Anything else I can help you with?” It wasn’t what I really wanted to say, but it was what I asked on the off chance my dad chose that exact moment to walk out of the back room.
“Actually, now that you mention it, there is something else I need.” I immediately regretted opening my mouth. “Louis’ dad found him a last minute internship with his golfing buddy, a state representative, or something.”
“And you want me to use my feminine wiles to convince him not to take it,” I interrupted before Harry could finish, still not over the teasing that had ensued following Laney’s ill-timed outburst.
“No,” – Harry smirked – “although I should’ve thought of that first.”
“So what do you want?”
“Louis can’t really say no to the internship – it’s a big deal apparently – but that leaves us without a drummer for our ‘world tour’ as you so kindly put it. The guys thought you might be interested in taking Louis’ place.”
I stared at Harry, dumbstruck, before bursting out in laughter. Harry couldn’t possibly be serious. Me, in a band, with him. We would kill each other by the end of the first rehearsal.
“I, on the other hand, offered the idea of just using backing tapes.” I immediately stopped laughing and glared at Harry.
“Kidding, kidding.” Harry laughed. “So what do you think?”
What did I think? Harry had just offered me the chance to achieve one of my biggest dreams. I’d been working towards something like this since the first time I sat down behind a drum kit. And now it was being handed to me on a silver platter. Or maybe sterling silver, since it did mean I’d have to spend the next two months on the road with Harry.
But how could I possibly turn it down?
There was only one problem. “You have to be the one to ask my mother.”
////
Harry convinced my mother to let me go on tour in less time than it took me to make everyone a cup of tea. My mother, who grounded me for six weeks when I dyed the ends of my hair pink in high school. My mother, who would look at the A’s on my report card and ask if they were ‘high A’s’. My mother, who I had to beg to let me buy my first real drum kit, only agreeing once I’d promised to donate all of my babysitting money for a year to the orphanage she sponsored. Harry convinced her to let me travel the country with four boys – three of which she didn’t even know – in less than five minutes.
I walked into our sitting room, expecting Harry to still be charming my mother in anticipation of asking the important question in an hour or so, only to find him taking notes as my mother dictated a list of rules that all the boys would need to follow while I was on tour with them.
I stared slack-jawed at the two of them, heads together like a pair of conspirators, and tried to work out what he could’ve possibly said to get her to agree so quickly. But I couldn’t think of anything. How the hell did he always get exactly what he wanted?
It was impossible.
Even more impossible than trying to learn all of their songs, covers and originals, in a week. But that’s what had to be done. The rest of the band arrived just one week after I found out I was going on tour with them, and then we had three days to run through the setlist and make it as perfect as possible.
To say I was nervous for my first official rehearsal would’ve been putting it lightly. Sure, I’d been practicing nonstop in my basement for a week, listening to every recording of Those Who Wander I could get my hands on and even Skyping with Louis a few times to ask him for pointers, but I couldn’t keep my hands from shaking as I walked three houses down to Harry’s childhood home.
Zayn Malik – keys – was out front, watching me walk up the driveway as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Those things will kill you,” I said, my face scrunching up in disgust.
“Can’t live forever,” Zayn shrugged, dropping the cigarette and stubbing it out with his boot. “Everyone’s already in the basement. I was sent up to wait for you.”
Like I needed someone to help me find my way around Harry’s house. Our parents had been friends since before we were born and more memories than I cared to admit involved being in Harry’s house. I could navigate it blindfolded. Which, after I thought about it, I had done before.
But I let Zayn lead me through the front hall into the kitchen, stopping to let Mrs. Styles fawn all over me before following him down the stairs to the basement. My stomach filled with thousands of little winged creatures, and I felt the sudden urge to flee when I saw Harry leaning against an amp, tuning his bass guitar.
This was never going to work out. What had I been thinking? I barely knew any of these boys, other than Harry, and with only three days to get to know them, I could hardly expect to be in sync with them by the first show.
I discreetly started to back up, hoping to be halfway up the stairs before anyone noticed, but a warm body slammed into my side, arms wrapping tightly around me in a bear hug, stopping me in my tracks.
“Hey Niall.” I greeted the bleached blond once I was able to glimpse my friendly attacker. I hoped no one heard how my voice cracked, but, of course, they did.
“Niall, don’t scare her off. We need her,” Liam chastised as he laughed fondly, like this was something Niall did often. My assumption was confirmed a moment later when Niall simply squeezed me tighter before letting me go, a huge grin on his face.
Not sure what I was supposed to do after that, I slipped a drumstick from my back pocket and twirled it nervously. “So, are we going to rehearse, or what?” I asked lamely.
“Of course,“ Harry agreed easily. At that, the others picked up their instruments – or in Zayn’s case, walked over to it – and glanced at Harry, the obvious leader of the group. “Are you ready?” he asked, watching me carefully as I settled on my stool.
As ready as I’ld ever be, I thought as my foot tapped lightly on the bass drum pedal. Which, as it turned out, was not nearly enough.
////
Within the first two minutes of our first show, I flubbed two eight counts and was nearing my breaking point. I was an idiot. I couldn’t handle this. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this moment…the biggest crowd my old band had played for was like twenty-five people.
What had Harry been thinking when he asked me to do this?
“Deep breaths, Cam. You’re doing fine.” Harry suddenly blocked my view of the crowd, casually strumming the strings of his bass as he locked eyes with me. Without hundreds of faces staring back at me, I was able to focus and find the bassline. Harry smiled and played with his back to the crowd for a few more counts, waiting until I was fully in the groove before turning back to his mic.
Watching him perform, I was in awe of how at ease he seemed. All of the boys, really. Even when they weren’t perfect, they oozed such confidence that no one knew any better, whereas all of my mistakes were clearly written across my face.
But at the end of the show, as the entire crowd erupted in thunderous applause, I thought maybe it was all in my head. A thought that I seemed to share with the others as they hugged one another and declared the show to be one of the best they’d ever performed.
“Was it really okay?” I asked quietly, sure that they were just being polite.
“Okay? Okay?” Niall was practically vibrating out of his skin. “Cam, you were brilliant!” He grabbed my arms to pull me close and pressed a sloppy kiss to my forehead – seemingly in emphasis of his point – but then his brain caught up with his actions, and Niall’s arms fell to his sides, a deep crimson creeping up his neck as he glanced around sheepishly.
“Niall, while clearly a bit overenthusiastic, is right,” Liam laughed, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “You were fantastic.”
I turned to look at Harry for confirmation, but all he gave me was a brief nod, turning to ask Zayn about the bridge in one of the songs. It seemed Harry felt the same way I did, then.
I was still a bit down after we loaded all of the equipment back into the trailer, so I offered to drive back to the motel so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. Zayn rode shotgun, which I thought would work in my favor since he was typically the least talkative, but as soon as we hit the road, he turned to me with a knowing look.
“Don’t get too caught up in that head of yours,” he said quietly. “You were great tonight. Better than any of us were our first time up there together.”
“I can’t afford to make mistakes.” I felt the telltale prick of tears at the back of my eyes. “You guys gave me this great opportunity, and I don’t want to make you regret your decision.”
“You saved our asses,” Zayn scoffed. “We were talking about cancelling the tour when Harry came up with the idea to ask you about replacing Louis.”
“It was Harry’s idea?” If that were true, I bet he was regretting it now.
Zayn gave me a strange look. “You have no idea, do you?”
“No idea of what?” Zayn laughed in amusement but didn’t bother responding. No matter how much I pestered him for the remainder of the drive, he wouldn’t budge, which put him firmly at the bottom of my list.
But only momentarily, it turned out. Harry was back at the bottom within seconds of walking into our motel room. I stood between two double beds – my thighs grazing the mattresses on both sides – and glared at Harry as the others tumbled through the door with their duffel bags. “You failed to mention how tiny these rooms would be when you said we’d all be sharing one room, Harry.”
Harry just laughed and flopped onto the bed nearest the bathroom. “Welcome to tour life, sweetheart.”
I’d packed my sleeping bag and an extra blanket knowing I’d be the one sleeping on the floor or couch given the dynamics of the group, but I hadn’t thought I’d be putting my life on the line every night. There was so little walking space, I was sure to be trampled in my sleep. Or at least kicked and/or stepped on, which didn’t sound all that much better. “You better sleep with one eye open, Styles, or you might not make it ‘til morning.”
“I don’t mind sharing,” Harry winked, patting the bed next to him teasingly. “Niall and I love a good cuddle.”
“Harry’s the little spoon,” Niall added matter-of-factly. I laughed as Harry’s cheeks tinged a satisfying hue of pink, and Niall high-fived the hand I held up in gratitude. He was definitely my favorite.
////
Things started to get better after that first night. Zayn became my confidante, and he always knew exactly what to say when I got too caught up in my head; Niall never failed to make light of the situation when tour life started to feel too overwhelming – which, if you’ve ever shared tight quarters with four boys for an extended period of time, you’d understand; Liam was like the mother hen, always making sure we had everything we needed; and Harry, well, Harry worked tirelessly to make sure the entire tour ran smoothly.
I had no idea just how much work he’d put into the tour until about four weeks in. Harry was hunched over his notebook at a picnic table while the rest of us enjoyed some down time lounging in the sun, when I made a comment to Zayn about how Harry never seemed to join in on the frivolity that filled the empty hours of tour. I thought it was because he was avoiding me.
But Zayn explained that this tour was all Harry’s doing, which was quite a feat, given that they didn’t have a label, a sponsor, or even a manager. Harry had worked day and night for most of winter break, analyzing the band’s social media statistics to see which cities they had a big enough following in to warrant a concert. Then, during spring semester, he’d called numerous bar and club owners in each of those cities trying to convince them it would benefit both of them to allow Those Who Wander to perform in their venue. The Kickstarter was really the only thing out of Harry’s control, but he’d spent hours every day talking with fans to gain support, hoping it would be enough.
Maybe not everything came as easy to Harry as I thought.
Before I could dwell on it for too long, another question that I’d been thinking about for a while popped into my head. “So, how did Harry convince you lot to use a Lord of the Rings reference for your band name?”
Niall whipped his head towards me so suddenly that his sunglasses flew off his face. “Lord of the Rings reference?”
“Yea, The Riddle of Strider…” – I glanced at my bandmates, but they all seemed to have no idea what I was talking about – “you know: all that is gold does not glitter, not all those who wander are lost…those are like two of the most famous lines.”
I quickly found out that Harry had failed to mention the reference when pitching his idea for a band name. Apparently, he’d also failed to mention how big of a geek he was to his bandmates. But I had no problem explaining how Harry hadn’t always been the “cool indie rocker” he was now. So I spent the next hour regaling Niall, Liam, and Zayn with stories of our shared childhood – including numerous tales of Star Wars Lego sets and Shire-themed birthday parties. I was so caught up in it that I didn’t even notice Harry had joined in until I mentioned one particular story about trying to dress his dog, Barkley, in a Gandalf costume for Halloween.
“That dog hated me,” Harry chimed in, alerting me to his presence.
“Smart dog,” I snickered, earning an elbow in my side from Harry.
“But he loved you,” Harry shook his head like he couldn’t understand it. “It’s like he knew he was supposed to be yours.”
“What?” Now I was the confused one.
“Yea,” Harry mumbled sheepishly, like he hadn’t meant to say what he did. “I only asked for a puppy for my seventh birthday because you cried when your mom said you couldn’t get one.”
How had I never known that?
I studied Harry’s face for any sign that he was lying, but he locked his eyes with mine, and I knew he was telling the truth. When I managed to drag my gaze from his, I saw the others sharing a look, like they knew something I didn’t.
But whatever it was had to wait for another time. Harry had only come over to tell us it was time to go. So we packed our things and climbed back into the van, ready to make our way to the next venue.
By the time soundcheck was over, I’d nearly forgotten the strange looks my bandmates had exchanged at the park, but when everyone but Harry disappeared to have a smoke – even Niall who rarely participated in the vile act – I had a feeling they’d left me alone with Harry on purpose.
“So, what else did you do for me when we were younger without my knowledge?” I asked, plucking an onion ring from the basket a waitress had just slid in front of Harry.
“For you? Only a few small things,” Harry smirked. “Because of you? Quite a bit, actually.”
“Like?” I prodded.
“Picking up a guitar, for one,” Harry said. “So I guess I should thank you for that.”
“You learned how to play guitar because of me?”
“Yea,” – Harry shrugged – “little did I know you’d join an all-girl punk band and practically stop speaking to me only a few months later.”
"I was jealous of what a natural you were,” I admitted, dropping my head into my hands to hide my face.
“A natural?” Harry laughed. “I spent countless hours teaching myself how to play that guitar trying to keep up with you. I didn’t have years of piano lessons under my belt like you did.”
Just another thing I’d gotten wrong, apparently. I’d always hated how Harry seemed to get everything I’d ever wanted. Had my anger and jealousy really blinded me to what was really going on? Had Harry really just been trying to be a good friend?
“I’m an idiot,” I groaned, collapsing onto the table in front of me.
“Not going to argue with you on that one, sweetheart,” Harry smirked. I threw an onion ring at his head and laughed. This tour was definitely getting better every day.
////
By the last week of tour, I was dreading it’s end. As much as I’d dreamt of being a touring artist, I never imagined loving it as much as I did. And I knew a lot of that had to do with the four loveable idiots I was on tour with. But with the end of summer looming, I knew my time as their drummer was drawing to an end. Louis would be back at school, and Harry’s band of merry men would be complete once more.
“What’s eating you, Cam-bam?” Zayn asked, dropping onto the seat next to me as he gave me an easy smile.
“I’m just thinking about how much I’m going to miss all of this,” I shrugged. I didn’t want anyone to know how much this was bothering me.
“Have you ever thought about asking to stay?”
“What about Louis?” I was only meant to be filling in for him, after all.
“What about me?” a voice from behind me asked, and I turned around in my seat, shocked to see Louis stood between Niall and Liam as they made their way towards us.
“You’re here!” I exclaimed, forcing my voice to remain even to hide my disappointment. I’d forgotten we were in Louis’ hometown.
“I am,” Louis smiled.
“Louis, I’m glad you made it,” Harry beamed as he went to give his friend a hug. I would never admit it aloud, but my heart dropped into my stomach as I witnessed their embrace. If I needed any sort of confirmation that this would be my last week with Those Who Wander, that had been it.
I excused myself from the room, letting the others have their little reunion. I knew they had a lot to talk about, so I decided to take a walk. I remembered passing a small park on our way to the motel, so I headed in that direction, knowing the open space would help calm me.
It took less than ten minutes to reach the park, and I quickly found a path that led towards a fountain off in the distance. The further I walked, the harder it was to fight the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. And by the time I reached the stone benches surrounding the fountain, I couldn’t hold them back any longer.
I hadn’t thought the end would hurt quite so much.
“I forgot how much of an ugly crier you are.” Ever the gentleman, Harry Styles was.
I rubbed the back of my hands against my eyes and looked up to find Harry standing in front of me, his hands tucked behind his back as he rocked back and forth on his feet.
"What are you doing here, Harry?”
He gestured to the empty space next to me, and I nodded, giving him permission to join me. He sat down, bumping his knee against mine. “I have something to tell you.”
“It’s okay,” – I reached out to pat Harry’s hand – “I know.”
“I don’t think you do,” Harry laughed, shaking his head. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, crying.”
I lost all words at that point. Harry couldn’t possibly mean what I thought he meant. It didn’t make any sense. Louis was here; he would surely be taking his rightful place as drummer for Those Who Wander.
“It’s yours if you want it, Cam,” Harry whisper, not needing to say anything else to make me understand.
“But what about Louis?”
“He doesn’t want it, and, anyway, Louis knew it was never really his spot to claim,” Harry said, placing his hand over mine. “He was perfectly content in his role as placeholder.”
I suddenly remembered what Zayn had said that first night of tour. Everything Harry had done – all of the things I’d wanted and he’d gotten – it was because of me. “I’m an idiot,” I groaned, dropping my head against his shoulder.
“Still not arguing that point, sweetheart,” Harry laughed, his knuckles brushing against my chin as he gently tilted my face towards his.
"Is this the part where you kiss me?” I whispered.
“I was thinking about it, yea,” Harry laughed quietly as he leaned forward, his forehead resting against mine.
"So?”
“I can’t…at least not yet,” he added when he saw the disappointment flash in my eyes. And then he answered my next question without me needing to ask. “Your mom is a rather terrifying woman when she wants to be.”
Maybe Harry Styles did have to work for what he wanted, after all.
If You Could Only See
for: Caiti @wordsbestforgotten by: Nicki @inkoasis
Dillon Hennassey is desperate. Harry Styles is more than willing. Everything would have been fine if he’d just kept his hands to himself. An AU about music, trust issues and seeing people for who they are.
word count: 16,457 warnings: language main pairing: Harry Styles/OFC
Thursday…
Meet (not so) Cute
“You’re not serious.” Dillon sat behind the desk in her parents’ office and stared at the boy across from her. There was no way he was doing this. No way. Not with the engagement party tomorrow.
“I’m sorry,” Zayn shrugged, picking at his nails so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “It’s just not working for me anymore.”
“What?” Dillon snapped. “How? How the hell is this not working? I let you do whatever you want, whenever you want, and the only thing I ask in return is that you’re here when I need you. And now you’re going to just walk out on the eve of one of the biggest nights of my life?”
“You’re being dramatic,” he laughed and Dillon’s breath hitched in her throat. He was laughing at her. “I’m sorry Dill, I just think I can do better.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Get the fuck out,” she barked, pushing away from the desk. The hinges on the door cried out at the force of her pulling it open.
“Dill, let’s just talk-“
“I don’t have anything to say to you.” Zayn’s dark eyes dodged between her icy blue ones as she stared him down.
“Babe, come on.” He took a step toward her but she held up a hand to stop him. If he got within arm’s reach, she’d smack that stupid stubble right off of his face. “So what, we can’t even be friends?”
“No.” She shook her head and snarled at him. “Friends don’t screw each other over.”
“Fine, have it your way.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and sent her an arrogant smirk as he walked passed. “You’re gonna miss me.”
“I fucking doubt it.”
The frames that her parents had hung on the walls rattled as the door slammed shut. She felt nauseous and dizzy and wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor and cry.
“No,” she coached herself. “I’m not crying over that asshole. Come on, Dill.” She shook her hands out and rubbed her sweaty palms on the sides of her pencil skirt. “You’re fine, you can do this. He’s an idiot, he can be replaced.”
“Dillon?” Julia opened the door to the office and found her daughter pacing the floor, talking to herself. “Honey, what’s the matter? Who were you shouting at?”
“Zayn fucking Malik.”
“Dillon.” Julia closed the door in an attempt to gain some privacy. “Don’t use that language with me.”
“He quit.”
“I won’t tolerate-“
Dillon watched as her words finally sunk in. She had a feeling that her language was going to be the least of her mother’s worries.
“What?”
“He quit,” Dillon repeated. “Came in here and told me he wasn’t coming in tomorrow and that, and I quote, ‘I just think I can do better.’”
“What?!”
The door opened again just as Julia was about to unleash her own slew of foul language. Patrick Hennassey stood in the doorway and looked back and forth between his wife and daughter, trying to assess the situation.
“I don’t know what’s going on in here,” he said slowly “but people can hear you in the dining room.”
“Zayn quit!” Julia shrieked. “He quit, Patrick!”
“What?”
The door slammed closed yet again.
“I knew it,” he hissed, pointing an accusing finger at the floor. “That kid always had a shifty look in his eyes. I should have known he was trouble.”
“He said he could do better,” Julia sneered. “Better! This place is a tourist trap! He has people fawning over him every week, he makes hundreds of dollars in tips alone and he thinks he can do better? I’d like to see him try.”
Dillon shivered at the sound of her mother’s voice. She knew that tone all too well, when it dropped a few octaves and her eyes narrowed into angry slits. Julia Hennassey may have been slight in stature but she was a force to be reckoned with. And Zayn Malik just became public enemy number one.
“Well what are we going to do?” Patrick demanded. “We have the Payne engagement party tomorrow and they’re expecting Zayn to be playing. They paid extra to have him stay until midnight.”
“Dillon.”
“What?” she asked, looking over at her mother, gulping when she saw the look in her eyes.
“You need to find a replacement.”
“Me?” Dillon’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why do I have to do it?”
“You planned this party,” Julia explained. “You recommended Zayn when he first came in.”
“Oh so it’s my fault the ass hat quit?”
“Language,” Julia scolded. “No it’s not your fault that he quit but this party is your responsibility.”
“Mom-“
“She’s right,” Patrick butted in. “You’re the one who worked with Karen, Marlene and Sophia, you know them best. If you’re going to take over the business someday, you need to take on more responsibility.”
“Someday,” Dillon emphasized, her voice laced with panic. “Not tomorrow. You can’t put this on me. How the hell am I supposed to find a musician who knows all of the songs on their list with twenty-four hours’ notice?”
“You’re a smart cookie.” Julia cupped Dillon’s face in her hands and smiled at the wild look in her eyes. “I have all the faith in the world that you won’t let us or the Payne’s down.”
—
“Hiya Baby Dill.” Niall strode into the office dressed in his all black uniform, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows. He stutter stepped when he saw Dillon face down on the desk and for a second wondered if she was breathing. Then she grunted out a greeting and he sighed in relief. “You alright?”
“Nope,” she mumbled as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs opposite her.
“What’s the matter? Tell Uncle Niall all about it.”
“Zayn quit.”
“No!” It came out somewhere between a gasp and a scoff and Dillon knew before she even looked up that he was not in the least bit surprised. And when she finally lifted her head and met his gaze, the raised brows and wide smile confirmed her suspicions. “Told you he’s a twat.”
“Yeah well, he’s a talented twat and I didn’t think he’d walk out right before a major event.” She pressed her fingertips into her temples, allowing her eyes to fall closed as she tried to work away her headache. “Now I have less than a day to find a replacement who knows a specific list of songs and is available on a Friday night in June. I have a better chance of getting struck by lightning, and it’s not even supposed to storm.”
“I know someone.”
“What?” Dillon’s eyes snapped open and she sat up so abruptly that she startled Niall. “Who? Can you call them? Do I know them? Are they-“
“Chill,” Niall laughed, pulling his phone from his front pocket.
Dillon got up and walked around the desk to stand behind him, hovering over his shoulder as he punched in his passcode (3455 because “I’ll never forget ‘Dill’”) and scrolled through his contacts.
“Harry?” she asked as she watched the text conversation take place. He told Niall to meet him at a place called Willy’s at seven so Dillon could see him play and they could talk after.
“Met him at a frat party a few months back,” Niall shrugged.
“Frat party?” Dillon’s hopes fell along with her tense shoulders. “I don’t want some douchey college kid, Niall. This is serious business, I can’t deal with another Zayn.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help you out.” He slid his phone back into his pocket as he stood. “The way I see it, you don’t have much of a choice right now. Get your stuff, we have just enough time to run home and change. You’re not going to want to go to Willy’s dressed like a paralegal.”
“I don’t want to go to Willy’s at all,” she grumbled but listened to her friend and collected her belongings, following him out of the office all the while bitching that this Harry character better be worth it.
—
“Now I know why I’ve never been here.” Dillon made it ten steps into the dingy bar before she turned to leave but Niall grabbed her hand and yanked her through the crowd. There were surprisingly a lot of people there for a Thursday night and as she took a closer look at the patrons, she noticed most of them were female. And their clothing left little to the imagination. “Do you come here often?” she questioned, allowing him to tuck her into his side as they sidled up to the crowded bar. “I can see why you have trouble with women. Your options are dismal.”
“Zip it,” Niall hissed, keeping an arm around her as he ordered a beer. The bartender looked over at her with a quirked brow but she just shook her head at him. No way was she putting her mouth on their glassware. “And I’ve only been here twice, both times to see H play. Take your snooty hat off for the night and try to enjoy yourself.”
“Snooty,” she scoffed, side eyeing a girl who was staring at her Coach purse like it was a steak and she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She tucked the accessory tightly under her arm and ignored Niall’s blatant laugh. “Just because I don’t want to contract a disease doesn’t make me a snob.”
“You’re looking at every person in here like they’re going to mug you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and angled both of their bodies toward the stage as the owner came on to introduce Harry. “I promise you’ll leave with everything you came with.”
“Except maybe my dignity,” she mumbled as the man on stage finished his speech.
“-a warm welcome back for Harry Styles.”
Dillon winced as the sound of screeching women filled the room, throwing their arms up into the air in hopes of attracting the attention of the boy climbing up the stairs to the small stage. His head was ducked down as he shook hands with the other man but his attire was enough to make Dillon cringe. As if the enormous hat on his head wasn’t bad enough, he was wearing some type of smock looking shirt with cream and peach stripes that could have come straight from her (dead) grandmother’s closet.
“What the hell is he wearing?” she demanded.
“Snooty,” Niall laughed, squeezing her into his side even when she tried to resist.
“Hello,” Harry said into the mic. He tilted his head up and flashed a toothy, dimpled smile at the crowd that only elicited more screaming. “I’m Harry Styles, and I’ll be your entertainment for the evening.” Dillon watched in horror as he zeroed in on a girl near the front and dropped his left eyelid into a wink.
“No.” She shook her head rapidly and looked up at Niall. “Hell fucking no.”
“Dill-“
“Look at him,” she shouted over the crowd, pointing toward the stage. Harry sat down behind the keyboard and spoke to the crowd but she ignored it in favor of tearing his appearance apart. “He looks like a Goodwill advertisement.”
“Those boots are Saint Laurent.”
“I don’t care! Yves could have come back from the dead and fashioned those himself and I’d still think he looks like a tool. I’m not trying to attract college girls looking for a quick fuck in the bathroom stalls. I need a professional, someone who doesn’t look and sound like a bad version of Mick Jagger.”
“You haven’t even heard him sing,” Niall argued, appalled by her behavior. “You’re acting like a stuck up brat.”
“Because this is important, Niall! You’ve met Karen Payne, she’ll skin me alive if I don’t provide the absolute best for her son. If she shows up and finds a skinny hipster in ripped jeans as their entertainment, she’ll probably sue us!”
Dillon was so caught up in her tirade that she hadn’t even noticed that Harry had started his set. She just kept bitching at Niall, telling him what a waste the whole night was and how her parents were never going to trust her with the business if she didn’t find someone suitable for the party. Sure Zayn hadn’t immediately fit the bill when he’d come in with shaggy hair and his leather jacket but with Dillon’s coaching, he’d learned to style his quiff and cover his tattoos a few hours a week while he played. If she could get Zayn to clean up while at work, she knew she could get Harry to. But that wasn’t the point.
It was over halfway through Tiny Dancer that Dillon’s brain registered that the screaming had stopped and was now replaced with a smooth voice and expert piano skills. She turned away from Niall and followed all of the other eyes in the room toward the small stage. He was too tall for the bench and had to hunch over to reach the mic but none of that mattered when he opened his mouth.
“But oh how it feels so real, lying here with no one near. Only you and you can hear me.”
Niall smiled proudly as Dillon’s jaw fell slack and her eyes widened. He knew what she was looking for, and he wouldn’t have brought her to that shithole of a bar if he didn’t think Harry would fit the bill. But seeing her reaction, the way she completely forgot everything she was saying and stared at the stage in some kind of trance, he gave himself a mental pat on the back and let Harry’s voice and the cold beer in his hand relax him.
“Thank you.” Harry smiled at the audience, relishing in the way that all eyes were on him. He loved the rush that performing gave him, and he knew without even making eye contact with any of them that by the end of the night, he could pick any girl out of the crowd and take her home. Didn’t mean he was going to, but knowing that he could had his belly fluttering with excitement. “This next song is a personal favorite of mine.” His fingers danced over the keys, playing the intro as a few people hooted and hollered as they recognized the chords. “This is Walking In Memphis.”
“I love this song,” Dillon gasped, clutching Niall’s forearm as she watched Harry’s eyes flutter shut just before his voice rang out.
“Put on my blue suede shoes and I boarded the plane. Touched down in the land of the Delta Blues, in the middle of the pouring rain.”
Harry didn’t hear or see anything but his own voice and his own hands as he let the music drown out the rest of the room. Music was his escape, his own personal nirvana and while he loved to play for anyone who would listen, he also liked to save bits and pieces for himself. He guarded it as closely as he guarded his heart, sharing only what he knew he wouldn’t lose.
“And they asked me if I would do a little number and I sang with all my might. She said ‘Tell me are you a Christian child?’ and I said ‘Ma’am I am tonight!’”
Goosebumps erupted over Dillon’s entire body as she watched him. The vein in his neck bulged under the taut skin, his eyes pinched shut. He looked positively electric and her own skin was humming with excitement.
Harry played three more songs before he opened up for requests, laughing when someone shouted out Bump N’ Grind.
“Sorry love,” he chuckled, standing from the bench to reach for his guitar. “Not sure I know that one. I heard someone say American Pie. Let’s give that a go, yeah?”
He moved the stool provided to the center of the stage and sat down, bringing his right foot up to rest on the bottom rung. He arranged the guitar the way he liked, absently strumming while his eyes scanned over the crowd, spotting a familiar crop of blonde hair by the bar. He nodded in their direction before focusing back on the music and smiling when the audience sang along.
—
“Well?” Niall asked after Harry exited the stage. Dillon turned to face him, smiling from ear to ear before she grabbed his face and gave him a big, smacking kiss on the mouth. “Wow,” he laughed. “That good, huh?”
“I mean, he looks a little homeless but that’s nothing I can’t fix with a run to the mall and a haircut.”
“Good luck with that,” Niall chuckled. “Kid’s more attached to his hair than he is to his mother.”
“You underestimate my powers of persuasion.”
“Sure, sure.” Niall looked around the room for his shaggy haired friend, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. “I’m going to go look for H. Stay here so I don’t lose you.”
“And where would I go?” she quipped. “To the bathroom for a staph infection?”
“Just stay there!” he shouted as he pushed through the crowd and disappeared.
Dillon pulled her phone out of her purse and opened Instagram, killing time by scrolling through photos of the people she followed, stopping every few to like or comment where she saw fit. She was just about to text her parents that she’d found the perfect replacement when a nasally voice interrupted her.
“Is that a real Coach?” She looked to her left, dropping her eyes to the bleach blonde’s feet. She wasn’t surprised at the platform wedges or, as her eyes made their way up, the daisy dukes and pleather crop top.
“Do I look like someone who wears a knockoff?” she retorted, turning her attention back to her phone. She didn’t have the patience to deal with some random bargain shopper. She needed to find this Harry kid and convince him to work for her. “Is it necessary to touch me?” she snapped when someone brushed up against her.
“Sorry, love. Bit crowded in here.”
“Oh.” She looked up at the sound of the accent and smiled when she saw the man of the hour staring down at her. “Sorry, didn’t know it was you.”
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked as he signaled to the bartender.
“No thanks, I can’t stay long.”
“No?” Harry asked, turning his attention back to her. He’d seen her standing at the bar, face in her phone and looking completely out of place. “And where are you off to?”
“I have a few things to finish up at work. I’d love to talk to you if you have a second.”
“Absolutely.”
Dillon was about to suggest they go outside where the paperwork for the engagement party was sitting in her car but that was all quickly forgotten when she felt a hand fall to her hip, squeezing gently. She looked down, saw the small cross tattooed near his thumb just as his warm breath washed over her neck.
“Your place or mine?” he whispered, running his nose along her ear. He heard her swallow and smirked to himself when she squirmed against him.
“If I were you,” she murmured lowly, reaching up into his hair. He winced when she tugged harshly and pulled back to look at her face. “I’d move your fucking hand.”
“What-“
“Oh good,” Niall cheered, totally oblivious to the encounter. He tossed an arm over Dillon’s shoulders and smiled. “See you’ve met Dillon.”
“Dillon?” Harry asked, looking back down at her. His mouth fell open as he stared at her, realizing his mistake. “You’re the one-“
“Who wanted to hire you?” she snapped, hitching her purse up on her shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for making this easy for me. We’re leaving.”
She shoved Niall out of the way and pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring the glares and shouts coming from the people she’d bumped into. She didn’t care about anything but getting out of that hellhole as fast as she could.
“Dillon! Dillon, wait!”
She didn’t slow down when the sound of running footsteps followed her out into the parking lot. She dug through her purse, fishing out her keys as she stomped her way to her car. She’d parked on the far side of the lot, keeping her shiny Audi as far from the junkers as possible but was regretting it now that she was alone in the dark with a man that found it okay to put his hands on her.
“Hey, hold on.”
Harry grabbed her elbow, pulling her to a stop. Before he could start his apology, she was swinging her purse at him, connecting it with the side of his head.
“Fucking hell!”
“Don’t touch me,” she spat, pushing him back. “I don’t know where you came from or who raised you, but don’t ever put a hand on me unless you have my permission.”
“I know, I’m sorry. Didn’t have to knock me upside the head, for Christ’s sake. What the hell’s in there anyway, bricks?” He gestured toward her purse before reaching down to pick up his fedora.
“Don’t worry about it.” She unlocked her car and pulled the driver’s side door open.
“Now hang on a second.” Harry grabbed the door before she could slam it shut behind her. “If you’d give me a chance to explain-“
“Explain what? That you assumed that I was some groupie looking to fuck you?” He opened his mouth to reply but Dillon didn’t give him the chance. “Thought I was just going to walk out with you and pull my skirt over my head and let you have at it, huh? Well sorry mate, but there’s not a scenario in this universe where that would ever happen.”
“Bloody hell, do you ever stop talking?”
“Oh I can keep going,” she laughed sardonically. “But I think I’ve wasted enough time on you.”
“Someone want to explain what the hell is going on?” Niall asked as he approached. He could hear them shouting from across the lot and presumed he got the gist of it from Dillon’s rant but he wanted to hear Harry’s side of the story before he cursed him out.
“Your friend,” Dillon informed him “tried to get me to go home with him.”
“I didn’t know who you were!”
“And that makes it okay to put your hands on me? I get that girls throw themselves at you, probably on a regular basis, but you might actually want to check if they’re into you before you proposition them.”
“What the fuck, Harry?” Niall demanded.
“I said I was sorry,” Harry sighed, completely exhausted. “I didn’t mean to offend you or make you uncomfortable, I swear. I just thought you were a fan and you’re fit as hell and you were smiling at me like the other girls so I just assumed.” He shrugged helplessly, looking down at his boots. He felt like a complete arse and by the look on her face, there was no way he was going to talk his way out of this.
“Fit? Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
Niall stepped between the car door and Harry, putting a bit of distance between them before he squatted down so he could try to calm her down.
“Listen Dill, I know you’re pissed-“
“Don’t,” she warned, already knowing what he was going to say.
“-but Harry is exactly what you’re looking for and it’s already nine o’clock. You don’t have many options left, babe. Well, none actually.”
“Do you not comprehend what just happened?” she hissed. “Not only did he physically assault me-“
“Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”
“You shut up,” she snapped at Harry. When she was sure he was going to be quiet she turned back to Niall. “Aside from him acting like a pig, I don’t need a bunch of groupies coming into my establishment. That’s not the type of clientele we’re looking for.”
“You don’t have to hire him full time,” Niall soothed. “Let’s just get through the party and go from there. He’s not going to bring any of his friends along, and I’m sure he’ll be professional. Right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Harry.
“Absolutely.”
“God, this is a fucking joke.” Dillon dropped her forehead to the steering wheel and groaned in frustration. She really didn’t have any other choice. “Fine.” She pushed out of the car and pointed a finger in Harry’s face. “I’m not dealing with any of your shit,” she warned. “If you act or speak to anyone in my building like you did to me, you’re done.”
“I swear.”
“And you will dress appropriately. Henna Seas is a classy establishment. No ripped jeans or grandma shirts. And for the love of God get rid of that awful hat.”
“Anything else you want to criticize?” Harry deadpanned.
“You need a haircut and your shoes could use a shining.”
“Okay,” Niall laughed, pulling Dillon into his side. “I think we all understand what’s to be expected. How about you just give him the important details and we call it a night.”
“Six o’clock.” Dillon ducked into the car and grabbed the song list that Karen had printed for her. “I hope to God you know most of these or I’m screwed.”
Harry took the list and skimmed over it, flipping through the stapled pages and sighing when he recognized almost every one.
“I can handle this.”
“Halo is their song,” she informed him. “They want to dance to it at the party so it needs to be perfect.”
“Beyoncé?” Harry laughed. “I’m guessing the bride chose that. Sorry,” he mumbled when Dillon just stared at him.
“This is a trial,” she informed him. “Consider tomorrow night your audition, one that I can’t afford to have you blow.”
“I won’t, I promise. You can count on me.”
“Yeah,” she laughed, sliding back into the car. “We’ll see about that.”
Friday…
Dress to Impress
Dillon was going to be sick. She checked her watch for the tenth time in two minutes. Five forty-nine.
“You told him six.” Niall leaned up against the bar next to her and watched as the staff put the final touches on the dining room. The weather was working in their favor so they’d been able to leave the doors open to the patio, giving the guests an excellent view of the Gulf of Mexico and allowing in the fresh sea breeze. It wasn’t very humid so as long as the wind didn’t pick up, they’d station someone at the bar outside so everyone could enjoy the night. “Don’t fail him before he even gets here.”
“I’m going to regret this,” she whispered, watching as her mother spoke with the couples’ parents across the room. “I can feel it in my gut. This is going to be a disaster.”
“You’re just nervous.” Niall wanted to put an arm around her and kiss her forehead but he knew how she felt about affection in front of clients. “It’s your first event on your own. I’ve seen all of the plans, Dill, it’s going to be perfect.”
“What if he doesn’t show? Oh God, what if he dresses like a hobo? What if-“
“I’m here.” Dillon froze at the sound of his voice. “Nine minutes to spare, and I happen to think I look quite sharp. What’d you say, Ni?”
“You look great,” Niall beamed and Dillon knew that his smile should have been reassurance enough but she was scared out of her mind to face Harry. If he looked stupid, she was going away for murder.
“Well let’s have it then.” Harry set his guitar case down and straightened his jacket. “Come on, love. Have to get the seal of approval.”
She spun around, prepared to tell him not to ever call her love again but when she opened her mouth and actually took a look at him, nothing came out.
“Speechless?” Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “My sister’s always sending me designer samples she gets from work and I thought this would be nice for an engagement party.” When she continued to just stare, eyes roaming over every inch of his body, his smile fell. “You hate it.”
“You look…”
“Sexy?” he urged. “Dashing? Debonair?”
“I was going to say handsome,” she retorted “but now I take it back.”
“Too late.” Harry turned his attention to the dining room, whistling lowly as he took in the décor. “Wow.”
“Baby Dill did good, huh?” Niall boasted, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You did this?” Harry asked.
“Not physically,” she shrugged “but I designed it, chose the flowers, the table settings, lighting.”
“It looks beautiful.”
“Thank you. I-“
“Dillon!”
She tried not to cringe at the shrill voice shouting from across the room but by Harry’s muffled laughter, she knew she’d failed. She shot him a threatening look before weaving her way through the tables to join the Payne and Smith families.
“This,” Karen began, opening her arms to encompass the room “is just…it’s gorgeous, darling.”
“Thank you.” Dillon smiled politely as everyone complimented her.
“And where is Zayn?” Marlene, Sophia’s mother, asked. “I haven’t seen him yet. I wanted to ask if he’d play mine and Henry’s wedding song. Sophia’s always loved it.”
“Actually…” Dillon cleared her throat, trying to rid her airway of the constricting feeling that had begun closing in.
“He quit,” Patrick answered for her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Just yesterday.”
“What?!” Marlene and Karen cried out.
“No.” Karen’s head was shaking frantically. “No, no, no, this can’t be happening. How could you let this happen?” she demanded, turning her red face to Dillon.
“I can assure you that Dillon did everything she could to persuade him.” Patrick took a deep breath to calm himself before he got defensive. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone berating his child.
“Well obviously not enough! Good God, what are we supposed to do? They’re going to be here in forty minutes and they’re expecting a perfect evening.” Dillon could see the tears forming in the woman’s eyes and stepped in.
“Karen,” she said quietly, touching her arm. “Take a deep breath, alright? I’ve found a replacement, everything’s going to be fine.”
“A replacement? How in the world could you find someone in just a day that could be even a fraction as talented as that boy was?”
“I had a little help,” she admitted, smiling gently. “And if I’m honest, I think he’s better than Zayn. Just don’t tell him I said that.”
“Too late, love.”
Dillon’s back went up as all eyes turned to the boy behind her. Harry reached around her, extending his hand to Liam’s father, then Sophia’s before zeroing in on the mother’s.
“Mrs. Payne, Mrs. Smith, it’s a pleasure. I’m Harry, I’ll be playing for you tonight.”
“You?” Karen’s brow furrowed as she looked him up and down. “You play the piano?”
“I do. I understand that tonight is very important for you and your family, and I’m sure you have some reservations as you’ve not yet heard me play. I’d love to go over the set list with you, and I could certainly play for you before the party begins. To ease your mind,” he added, smiling timidly.
Dillon watched in awe as he led Karen and Marlene toward the piano where his guitar was already set. She considered herself a master of manipulation but was pretty sure that she’d just been bested by Harry Styles. Not once in the three months that she’d known Karen had she seen the woman laugh the way she was laughing at Harry, and it should have bothered her but all she felt was immense relief. He was playing them like a fucking fiddle.
“Told you,” Niall whispered into her ear. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Don’t jinx me.” She looked down at the Rolex on her wrist and cringed. “They’re going to be here soon, I’m going to check on the kitchen.” She took one final look at the stage, feeling her heart thud heavily when a set of green eyes met hers. His dimples were on full display as he winked before turning his attention back to Karen and Marlene, intently listening to what was surely a list of very specific instructions. “Heaven help me,” she whispered to herself before disappearing in back.
—
Niall was right. Dillon wanted to be annoyed that he was, but with the way Liam and Sophia smiled at each other as they swayed to the music, she couldn’t find anything to be angry at. The party had gone off without a hitch (minus one mishap involving an inebriated guest and a tray full of champagne flutes) and by all accounts, the Payne/Smith clan were beyond ecstatic with Dillon’s delivery of the perfect party. Including one Harry Styles.
Dillon had to admit that Harry played the part as well as anyone could, and yes, she thought he was better than Zayn. But there was still something off about him, something she didn’t trust. Maybe it was the way her body had tensed when he touched her, or maybe it was the sound of his voice when he said her name. She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but something told her to keep him at arms’ length, and she always followed her instincts.
“I have to admit,” Julia told her, slipping her arm around her daughter’s waist “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to pull it off.”
“Thanks,” Dillon scoffed. “Your faith in me is astounding.”
“You did wonderful, baby.” Patrick stood behind his girls, resting a hand on each of their shoulders and smiling as they watched the party wind down. “We gave you an impossible task and you pulled through.”
“Technically it was Niall,” Dillon admitted, watching as Harry finished the last song of the evening and thanked everyone before he climbed down from the stage.
He went straight to Liam and Sophia, exchanging pleasantries before making his way toward Dillon. He’d been eager to talk to her all night, to get her opinion, to ask if he’d passed the test. He’d never been so starved for approval as he was in that moment and it made him itchy and anxious. But as with every attempt he’d made to reach her, someone intercepted him at the last second and he was pulled away by Karen to introduce him to another guest.
“Michael, this is Harry.” Karen kept her arm looped through his as she beamed up at him like a proud mother. “Harry, this is my brother Michael. His daughter is getting married next year in Orlando and they’re very interested in hiring you for the reception.”
“You’re incredible,” Michael told him, shaking his hand. “My daughter couldn’t be here tonight but I know you’re just what she’s looking for. What’s your fee for an entire weekend? I’d fly you over and put you up in one of my hotels, of course, but there’s a party and the rehearsal that I’d like you at as well. We’d take care of all of your expenses, just give me a number.”
“Oh, I…” Harry ran a hand through his hair nervously, completely taken off-guard. He hadn’t expected the attention he’d been receiving all night and to be honest, it was a bit overwhelming. He was about to make some sort of excuse for himself when Dillon appeared at his side to save him.
“I have all of the information in my office,” she told Michael. “I’d be happy to email it to you in the morning.”
“You’re a gem,” Michael told her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Wonderful party, Dillon.”
“It was,” Karen agreed, reaching around Harry to squeeze Dillon’s hand. “Dillon did a fantastic job.”
“Thank you. My apologies, but I have to steal Harry away for a minute.”
She slipped her hand around Harry’s elbow and excused them from the group, leading him toward the office.
“Is this the part where you kill me and put my body in the freezer?”
“No,” she laughed, releasing him so she could shut the door to the office. “This is the part where I offer you a job.”
“Really?” The smile on his face was so bright, so honest, so genuinely happy that Dillon couldn’t understand how he was the same boy that had groped her the night before.
“On a trial basis.” She walked around her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a black folder. She handed it to him and watched him flip it open. “You’ve got one week to prove to me that you belong here.”
“A week?” Harry look up confusedly. “But that’s not enough-“
“That’s what you’re getting,” she interrupted. “I don’t have time to waste on you if you’re not going to work out. You show up, you perform well, you look and act presentable, then next Friday you’re employed.”
Harry wanted to protest but he knew better. He knew when someone didn’t like him and usually it wouldn’t bother him. But seeing Dillon with a permanent scowl on her face any time he caught her eye made him feel nauseous. So he straightened his shoulders, nodded his head and told himself that he had a week to change her mind about him. And he could do it.
“Thank you, Dillon. For giving me a chance.”
“Don’t thank me. My parents adore you and I’m smart enough to know something good when I see it.”
“And that’s me?” he asked with a small smile.
“You’re a beautiful musician,” she shrugged. “My parents think you’ll be a great addition to the team.”
“And what do you think?”
“I think…” Dillon crossed her arms over her chest, cocking her head as she took him in. “I think it’s going to take more than one night for me to be comfortable with this decision. I don’t trust you, Harry.” She felt a little bad when his smile fell but she couldn’t do anything about it. She needed to listen to her gut, and it was telling her that he was a risky investment. “After last night, I’d be fine never seeing you again but you bailed me out tonight and as much as I hate it, I owe you this.”
“I get it.” And he did. He may not have liked it, but he understood where she was coming from. “I’ll just have to prove myself to you.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you,” she warned before taking a seat in her chair and going to the computer. “As for a schedule, do you have any obligations over the next seven days?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll expect you here no later than five-thirty every night and you’ll play from six to midnight, maybe later depending on the crowd. As for music, you pretty much have carte blanche as long the material isn’t explicit or offensive. You know how to work a room,” she commented, watching him squirm under her gaze. She like having the upper hand with him. “I saw that first hand last night. Which brings me to my next point.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “No fraternizing with the clientele. Flirting is fine, you’re handsome and a musician and I can rattle off about a dozen women who come into town on business that are going to zero in on you. But I won’t tolerate anything inappropriate. Keep your hands and any other body parts to yourself. Same goes for coworkers. I can’t control your personal life but I’m advising you to be careful. I don’t need any drama here so check your baggage at the door.”
“Don’t have to worry about that,” he assured her. “Dated a girl in uni that I worked with and learned my lesson.”
“Good. As for appearance, I’d appreciate if you kept your shirt buttoned appropriately. I understand that it’s hot here and long sleeves aren’t always going to be practical. The mermaid.” She pointed to his left forearm. “Keep it covered when you’re not at the piano.”
Harry nodded along as she went over the endless list of do’s and don’ts, making sure to listen to every word and file it away so he wouldn’t do something to piss her off and ruin his chances. It wasn’t just about proving to her that he wasn’t a twat. Okay, that was like seventy percent of it. But Henna Seas was the first place that he could actually see himself having a future. It was beautiful and classy and so far the people seemed to be incredibly welcoming, excluding the woman sitting across from him. This was a place that he could be proud to work at, that he could tell his family about without having to leave out details about the shared joints backstage or the endless offers of bathroom sex. He was twenty-two and he needed to start acting like an adult. And landing a respectable job that he was proud of became first on his list.
“It’s just for the week, Harry.” She made sure to repeat herself, not wanting to give him false hope. “My parents trust me to make the best decisions for the business and that’s the only reason you’re here. Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Now, what do you want to do about all of the offers you’ve had tonight?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. I didn’t think people would be interested in hiring me.”
“Well, you seem pretty clueless when it comes to business so I’m going to go out on a limb here and help you out. Zayn had a lot of side gigs while working here so I have some experience in this. This is a price list for his appearances.” She handed him a copy and watched his face as he read it over.
“This is ridiculous.” Harry looked up at her in shock. “Three thousand dollars for six hours? Who the hell does he think he is?”
“Believe it or not, people paid it. And they’ll pay it for you too, Harry.”
“No they will not.” He tossed the sheet back onto her desk. “I want to make money doing music, but I’m not going to rob people.” He pointed at the sheet in disgust. “That’s ridiculous. That’s three months’ rent in one night. No.” He shook his head again. “No, that’s too much.”
Dillon blinked at him, watching the way his brows furrowed in irritation as he shook out his hair. She’d expected him to be happy about the money, or even ask for more, but instead he’d surprised her by being offended by it.
“Okay.” She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and looked up, meeting his gaze. “Stop staring.”
“Sorry.” He laughed quietly, sweeping his hair back from his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, Dillon could see a little pink tinge creeping up his neck and she had to bite back a smirk. Yes, she really did enjoy having the upper hand.
“Alright, Styles.” She uncapped the pen and crossed her legs under the desk, leaning her weight onto her elbows. “Tell me how much your talent is worth.”
Saturday…
Lipstick Jungle
Saturday’s were Dillon’s favorite. While most people coveted their weekends off, she longed for the endless hours that it brought. She liked her work days busy and profitable and if that meant that there was standing room only and that she had to run around in five inch heels for eighteen hours, then so be it. Ain’t no rest for the wicked.
“When’s Harry coming in?” Julia asked, joining her daughter in the office while she sent an email to their liquor distributor about an upcoming order. “I’m anxious to see how the crowd takes to him.”
“Considering most of them are middle-aged women on their third glass of wine, I’m sure they’ll take just fine.”
“You really don’t like him, do you?”
“Not really,” she shrugged, closing the browser on the computer. “You know how I am about first impressions and his was terrible. I’ll be surprised if he makes it the entire week.”
“You know I trust your judgment.”
“But?” Dillon prompted when her mother just stared at her.
“But I like this boy, Dillon, and I think he would fit in here really well.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Neither do you,” Julia reminded her. “I don’t know what he said or did to turn you off of him but I also know that you’re exceptional at holding grudges out of spite.”
“Name one,” Dillon challenged, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Macy Barnette.”
“She dumped sand on my head!”
“After you ripped her Barbie’s head off.”
“She wouldn’t share,” Dillon shrugged.
“That was sixteen years ago and you still give her the cold shoulder when you see her.”
“Not because of that. I just don’t want people thinking I’m friends with someone who shops at Aeropostale.”
“Honestly,” Julia laughed, throwing her arm around Dillon’s shoulders and leading her out of the office. “Sometimes I just don’t know about you.”
—
“Who is that darling boy at the piano?”
Dillon rolled her eyes for about the thousandth time as she listened to the group of women at the bar fawn over Harry. From the moment they walked in with their age-inappropriate outfits and hideous nail art, Dillon knew they were going to give her a headache.
“He’s gorgeous,” another woman sighed, propping her chin on her palm as she twirled the straw in her Long Island. “Too bad he could be by son.”
“Look at him,” the first woman laughed. “Does he look like he would care about someone’s age? That hair practically screams sex and I’m not even going to start on his accent.”
The more Dillon heard, the more annoyed she became. She knew he was going to draw attention from their female patrons (and a great deal of males ones as well), she wasn’t stupid. He was gorgeous, almost to a fault, and if he hadn’t made such as ass out of himself that first night she probably would have been interested in him herself, if he learned how to dress. But listening to the three women in front of her that could very well be his mother’s age (if they’d had him in high school), she found herself feeling almost protective of him.
“Excuse me.”
Dillon looked up from the glass of wine she was pouring and glanced at the woman in red. The color didn’t do any favors for her pasty skin tone but despite her poor choice in attire, Dillon plastered her best fake smile on her face.
“What’s the musician’s name?
“Harry,” Dillon informed her, handing the glass of wine to the server who was patiently waiting next to her. “He’s our new live entertainment.”
“Entertainment is right.” The lady in red ran a cheaply-manicured finger around the rim of her glass as she watched Harry’s tall form lean over the piano keys. Dillon found herself holding back a gag as the woman’s tongue slid out of her mouth and over her heavy-glossed lips. She assumed that the woman thought it was a sexy move but it just made her look ridiculous. She looked worse than a sixth grader discovering Lip Smackers for the first time. “He looks delicious. Is he single?”
“Sorry.” Dillon’s smile tightened as she pressed her lips together in an effort not to come off rude. “It’s not my place to say.”
“Oh come on,” the woman laughed, leaning her elbows onto the bar. “Give us a bit of gossip.” The woman looked her up and down slowly, bringing her dark drown eyes back to Dillon’s. “Unless you’re keeping him for yourself.”
“That’s really none of your business,” Dillon snapped, exhaling out of her nose as she walked away. If she didn’t get away from that woman, she was going to end of saying something that she would surely regret.
“You good?” Niall asked, following her into the kitchen. “Thought you were gonna punch that cougar in the throat.”
“Oh, I thought about it. Who even does that?” she demanded, pushing her way into the office. She just needed a minute to cool down before she went back out front. “Who asks a perfect stranger who they’re sleeping with?”
“Women who are desperate and on the prowl. The one in blue tried to touch my chest hair.”
“All five of them?” Dillon joked, screeching when Niall pinched the skin over her ribcage.
“There are dozens, thank you very much.” He leaned his hip against the desk and smiled at her. “It’s cute how you got all red and flustered when she asked if you were with him.”
“I was not red.”
“Yes you were,” Niall laughed. “You were blushing like a virgin on prom night.”
“You-” Dillon snarled in disgust as he continued laughing at her expense. “That was a terrible joke. And if I was red, it was out of anger, not embarrassment. She’s lucky I didn’t tell her to fuck off.”
“You’re too classy for that. Well, to her face anyway. Come on.” Niall held his hand out for her, wiggling it impatiently until she let him lead her out of the room. “I’ll man the bar, you go schmooze the crowd. And if the women of Cougar Town make any comments about you, I’ll accidently knock a glass of red on their lap.”
“Deal,” Dillon laughed. “Just make sure it’s a cheap brand. Don’t want to waste the good stuff on their Donna Karen knock-offs.”
—
When two o’clock rolled around and Dillon told Harry he was done for the night, he couldn’t have been more relieved. It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed himself, or that he was tired. He just wasn’t used to the kind of attention that he’d been getting all night. He was used to being hit on and he was used to people giving him compliments, but he wasn’t used to women in fancy dresses grabbing his thigh and slipping hundred dollar bills (and their phone numbers) into his tip jar. And he was pretty sure there was a hotel room key in there as well.
“Do you need any help cleaning up?” Harry asked, rolling his sleeves up to is elbows as Dillon stood behind the bar handwashing glassware.
“I’m good, you can head out.”
“I have to wait for Niall anyway,” he informed her, walking around the bar and stepping up next to her. “He’s letting me crash with him for the week so I don’t have to drive back and forth.”
“Where do you live?” She hadn’t meant to ask, not wanting to engage in any kind of personal conversation with him, but she had just assumed that if he had been playing at a local bar and wanted to work at Henna Seas, that he lived nearby.
“Niceville.” He took the soapy glass from her hand and held it under the hot water, rinsing it off before he reached for a clean towel to dry with. “It’s like a forty-five minute drive, which isn’t bad but he offered and I’d rather not drive home in the middle of the night.”
Dillon agreed that his logic made sense but she didn’t tell him that. She didn’t say anything as they continued to work side by side and as much as she didn’t care to be in his company, he helped her finish in half the time she’d have done it by herself.
“So I heard something interesting tonight.”
“What’s that?” she asked without interest, draining the sinks and rinsing the leftover suds down the drain.
“A woman came up to me while I was playing and told me that she was staying across the street if the hot bartender and I wanted to stop by after work.” Dillon’s head shot up in his direction as the blood drained from her face. “I had no idea what she was talking about until she commended me on my taste in leggy blondes. I almost thought she was talking about Niall until you walked by and her wandering eyes made it very clear that it was you.”
“Was she in a red romper?”
“I don’t know what that is but it was red,” he confirmed.
“Jesus Christ,” Dillon swore. “That woman is vile.”
She unlocked the register and pulled the till out, resting it on her hip while she shut the computer down. Harry followed her to the back, mostly because he knew Niall was getting his things from the break room but also because he wanted to know why the woman thought that he and Dillon were together.
“Did you need something?” Dillon asked, blocking his view of the safe as she punched in the code. She didn’t think he was the type to steal but looks could definitely be deceiving. Harry leaned his shoulder against a bookshelf and watched her walk around the room to gather her things.
“Why did that woman think we were together?”
“What woman?” Niall asked from the doorway.
“No one.”
“The one in the red,” Harry told him, ignoring Dillon’s dismissal of the conversation. “The one I told you was into threesomes.”
“Cougar town!” Niall cheered as if remembering an old friend. He looked at Dillon and wiggled his eyebrows. “Never would have thought you were her type.”
“She’s disgusting. It wasn’t bad enough she thought I was sleeping with him.” She nudged her head in Harry’s direction.
“Hey!” he pouted.
“There isn’t a chance in hell that I’d be into her, with or without Harry present.”
“I’m right here,” Harry reminded her. “No need to point out what’s already obvious.”
“Get over it.” Dillon rolled her eyes at him before leading them back out front. “I’m sure there are plenty of girls who would love for you to grope them without permission.”
Harry didn’t say anything else as they waited for her to do her walkthrough and lock up. He watched in silence as Niall escorted her to her car, kissing and hugging her goodbye. She didn’t even bother throwing a wave in his direction before she slipped inside and drove away.
“Stop pouting.” Harry looked up, seeing Niall standing on the other side of the car watching him watch Dillon drive away. “You’ll grow on her.”
“I don’t want to grow on her.” He pulled the passenger side door open and slid inside. “I don’t want to be someone she just tolerates because she has to.”
“It’s gonna be fine,” Niall assured him, pulling onto the street while Harry rested his head against the window, watching the restaurant disappear in the side mirror. “Just get through the week without pissing her off and we’ll go from there.”
Tuesday…
Progress Report
Harry didn’t see Dillon on Sunday or Monday. While she had two days off, he spent them coming in early to help set up and staying late when three employees came down with the flu.
He liked being helpful, a natural born people pleaser as his mother once called him, so he didn’t think twice about offering to help Julia and Patrick when they were in a bind. He would mop floors or mix drinks or wash dishes, whatever they needed from him while they dealt with being short staffed.
So when Dillon walked in at nine on Tuesday morning and saw Harry helping two busboys set up the dining room, she was very confused.
“What’s Harry doing here?” she asked. Julia was sat behind the desk going over payroll and finishing the next week’s schedule, her favorite jazz Spotify station playing softly in the background.
“We’re down two servers, a bus boy and a dishwasher,” Julia told her while Dillon put her purse away. “The flu’s going around and people are dropping like flies. Harry graciously offered to step in and help wherever we need him.”
“That was…nice of him.”
“He’s always nice,” Julia laughed. “You just don’t give yourself the chance to see it.”
“It’s too early for this,” Dillon groaned. “I’m going to help Marley set up the bar. Holler if you need me.”
—
When the doors opened for lunch at eleven, Harry stood at the front door with a dimpled smile as he greeted the first guests that walked in. Dillon had had to send Maria home because she threw up while she was changing the toilet paper in the bathroom. Thankfully she’d been in a stall so they didn’t have to worry about cleaning up her vomit, but that meant they were now down a host. So Harry being Harry just walked up to the front, told the other hosts to tell him what to do and went to it.
“Are you new?” Harry pulled the chair out for the woman he was seating while her husband took the chair across from her. “We’re here every Tuesday but I don’t think I’ve seen you.”
“I’m actually the new musician,” Harry explained, handing them each a menu. “They were a little short staffed this morning so I’m helping out.”
“You took over for that Malik kid?” the man asked, deep frown on his face. “You better not screw over our Baby Dill.”
“Jonathon,” the woman hissed before smiling apologetically at Harry. “Sorry sweetie, he’s a little protective of his only grandchild.”
“Grand-“ Harry looked between the two of them, immediately noticing the resemblance. “You’re Patrick’s parents.”
“I’m Dorothy.” She gestured to the man across from her. “This is my husband Jonathon.”
“I’m Harry.” He shook both of their hands politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, you have a lovely family.”
“I’m serious,” Jonathon added. “Don’t mess with my girl.”
“I won’t,” Harry promised.
“Is she being hard on you?” Dorothy asked. “She can be a bit much sometimes but she has a heart of gold.”
“She’s…a bit hard to please sometimes, but that’s my fault. I made an arse of myself when we met so-“
“We heard,” Jonathon deadpanned. “You’re the kid from the bar then?” He watched as Harry’s cheeks flared and he sputtered, trying to figure out what to say but thankfully Dillon intervened before her grandfather could embarrass him more.
“Torturing souls this early?” She put her hand on Jonathon’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
“It’s never too early,” Jonathon quipped, smiling up at her. “But really.” He looked back at Harry, dropping his smile. “I’m watching you.”
“You need to stop hanging out with Niall.”
“How else am I supposed to find out what’s going on with you?” Jonathon tugged her arm until she gave him a hug. “I can’t believe this kid’s still breathing. You losing your mean streak?”
“Absolutely not,” she snapped. “He’s on probation, relax. And I wouldn’t do well in prison. Orange isn’t a good color on me.”
“I’m just gonna-“ Harry pointed to the front door and walked away without another word, too mortified to even properly excuse himself from the awkward conversation. He plastered on a smile when Laura handed him a stack of menus and told him which table to take the next guests to. What he really wanted to do was reach over the bar and choke his blonde friend until his face turned blue but he didn’t think that would go over well with Dillon. So he pulled out the chairs for each woman in the party and charmed them with his smile and accent, all the while silently thinking of ways to kill Niall in his sleep.
—
“Hey H.” Niall looked up from the table in the break room and smiled. When he saw the look on Harry’s face, his smile dropped. “What?”
“You told Dillon’s grandparents about Willy’s?” He crossed his arms over his chest and stood over Niall, watching his pale cheeks flame red.
“I…I didn’t mean…I was drunk,” he finally blurted. “We went golfing Sunday morning and you know me, once I get a few beers in me you can’t shut me up.”
“I’m well aware.”
“And Jon was drilling me about Dill’s personal life. He always does but usually there isn’t anything to tell and it just came out. I swear I didn’t mean anything by it. And I didn’t give any details, you know? Just like, said you tried taking her home and she wasn’t having it. Don’t be mad.”
“You told her grandfather that I wanted to have sex with her. How am I not supposed to be mad?”
“I told you I didn’t mean-“
“Harry.” He looked over his shoulder and saw Dillon standing in the doorway. “I need you in the office for a second.”
“Sure.” He shot Niall a glare as he followed her out, sticking his hands in his pockets as they walked in silence. He felt like he was about to face a firing squad.
“Sit,” she ordered, skirting around the desk and taking a seat. “My parents said you’ve been a big help the last few days.”
“It’s no big deal, I’d rather be here than at Niall’s,” he shrugged.
“Well it’s a big deal to them. They like people they can depend on, and so do I. Keep it up and Friday will be a good day for you.”
“I…thanks. I really want this, Dillon. I like it here, I feel like I fit it.”
“Good.” She nodded at him, silently dismissing him as she went back to her paperwork. “Harry?” she called when he got to the door.
“Yes?” She looked up at him, locking their gazes as her eyes searched his face.
“Don’t screw it up.”
Wednesday…
Down With the Sickness
“Oh God,” Dillon groaned, dropping her forehead to the toilet seat. She’d spent the better part of her day on her knees in the bathroom, emptying her stomach of anything she’d consumed over the last twelve hours, which wasn’t much. Apparently whatever illness was going around at work had hit her like a freight train and she’d had to call her parents and tell them she couldn’t come in. She hadn’t called in sick…ever, and she wasn’t happy about it.
She was almost asleep when the sound of someone knocking on her front door startled her, causing her to smack her forehead on the toilet seat.
“Shit,” she hissed, rubbing the sore spot as she pushed herself up. Every muscle in her body protested as she shuffled toward the door. She caught sight of the clock on the microwave and wondered who the hell was knocking, again, on her door at 2:12 in the morning. “What?” she shouted, whipping the door open. Harry stood on the other side, eyes wide as he took in her disheveled state. There was a plastic bag hanging from his fingertips. “What are you doing here?”
“Your mum said you were sick.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “She wasn’t able to get away to check on you so I said I would.”
“At two in the morning?” she demanded.
“I…we were really busy tonight and Kyle’s still not back so I finished up the dishes.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here and my mom’s not.” She crossed her arms over her chest, pulling her robe tighter as the night breeze hit her chest. It wasn’t cold out but her body was covered in goosebumps and her teeth were nearly chattering as a chill ran through her.
“She was proper knackered.” Harry frowned at her shaking figure. “You’re cold.”
“You’re a regular Sherlock, aren’t you?”
“I always preferred Watson.”
“Why are you here?” she repeated, feeling her agitation growing by the second. “This is wildly inappropriate, you know.”
“I brought some things to help you feel better.” He held the bag up with a bashful smile. “The polite thing to do is invite me in.”
She wanted to tell him that he could take his invitation and shove it up his arse but he was already making his way into the house before she could stop him.
“Kitchen this way?” he asked, walking further into the house until he found what he was looking for and disappeared around the corner. It took Dillon’s body a minute to catch up with her brain and then she was following after him, intending on kicking him out but stopped in the doorway as he stood at the sink. “I’m assuming you like tea?” he asked as he filled the kettle that was on her stove strictly for decoration. She’d never made a cup in her life but he didn’t need to know that.
“Would it matter if I didn’t?”
“No.” He smirked at her over his shoulder before he walked back to the stove. “My mum always made me peppermint tea when my stomach felt a bit off.”
“Did she also tell you that it’s incredibly rude to invite yourself into someone’s home when they so obviously don’t want you there?”
Harry turned from the stove and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms as he took her in. Under normal circumstances, her words would have made him apologize profusely and he’d be on his way. But the girl in front of him looked so tired and even though her words were harsh, her body language was anything but. The oversized robe covered her frame but the slumped shoulders and purple bags under her eyes gave her away. She didn’t want to be alone.
“Doesn’t it get tiring?”
“What?”
“The whole hard ass routine.” He watched her eyes flicker, saw the fight coming back into them and he almost smiled. “Being independent and strong doesn’t mean you can’t let anyone in.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she demanded. “You don’t know me, and if I’m letting anyone in,” she quoted, using her fingers for emphasis, “it certainly isn’t going to be some pompous asshole who can’t take no for an answer.”
Harry used the screeching kettle as an excuse to gather his thoughts as he riffled through her cupboards to find two mugs. Maybe she was right about the not taking no for an answer but he wasn’t really an asshole, and if he had anything to prove, that was it.
“Here.” He held out a white and blue striped mug and stared her down until she finally took it, cupping it in her hands and using it to warm them.
“You should go.”
“Probably.” He picked up his own cup and took a tiny sip, wincing when it burnt the tip of his tongue. “But I think I’ll stick around for a bit. Why don’t we go sit down?” he suggested, cupping her elbow and steering them toward where he presumed the living room was. “I like your place,” he commented, taking in the décor. “It’s lovely.”
“I’d say thank you.” She pulled her arm from his grasp and flopped down on the couch, scowling when he took a seat next to her. “But I don’t want you here so I don’t really care what you think.”
“I’ve always been a fan of wicker furniture,” he commented, ignoring her as he looked around. “Goes well with the whole beachy vibe you’ve got going on.”
She wanted to tell him that he and his opinions could kindly go fuck off but every bone in her body was aching and the few sips of tea she’d taken were threatening to come back up.
“Hey.” Harry set his tea down and reached for her shoulder as she slumped forward. “Are you alright?”
“No,” she snapped, wiping her tears away with her free hand. “My body feels like it’s shutting down and I want to throw up every five minutes so no, I’m not alright.”
She looked up when she felt him take her tea from her hands and watched him set it on the coffee table.
“Come here.” He spread his legs and patted the inside of his thigh.
“What?”
“Come sit,” he instructed. “I’ll rub your shoulders.”
“I don’t want you to-“
“Give me five minutes,” he negotiated. “If you don’t feel better by then, I’ll leave.”
“Or you could just leave now.”
“But I won’t.” He waited patiently, just staring at her as she had an internal argument with herself.
“Fine,” she huffed, standing up with a quiet groan. She jolted when she felt his hands on her hips as he helped her lower herself to the ground. “Five minutes.”
“Just relax.” Harry ran his hands up and down her arms. “Where does it hurt?”
“Where doesn’t it hurt? I-“ She cut herself off as his hands cradled the sides of her neck and his thumbs gently began kneading just below her hairline. Her body sagged back against the couch, her hands falling to the floor next to his feet as her body gave in to him.
Harry smiled to himself as he worked the knots in her neck and shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek whenever she’d let out a relieved groan when he hit a sore spot. He’d always appreciated a good back massage when he had body aches and while he loved the fact that she was allowing him to touch her without spewing nasty words at him, his touch was anything but sexual. He just wanted her to feel better.
Five minutes turned into ten and ten turned into twenty. If she’d been in her right mind, she would have counted the seconds in her head and made him leave the second she got to three hundred but every time she thought about telling him to go, he hit another spot that just begged to be rubbed and she couldn’t find it in herself to say a word. It wasn’t until her temple rested against the inside of his knee that he realized she was out cold.
“Dill.” He leaned down and whispered quietly, not wanting to startle her. “Come on love, time for bed.” When she didn’t respond he pushed himself up, making sure not to step on her or let her topple over, before he squatted down to pick her up.
She was a wet noodle in his arms and he had a hard time making it up the stairs without any help from her. He flipped on the light switch in the hall and poked his head into the different rooms, walking into the one he deduced was her bedroom and carefully set her on the edge of the bed.
“What?” she mumbled, brows pinched together in confusion but her eyes remained closed.
“Time for bed,” he told her, pulling the comforter and sheet back before he helped her scoot up the bed. When she was finally lying down, he tucked the covers in around her and smiled down at her. “Do you need anything?” He didn’t get an answer but he wasn’t expecting one, either.
He made his way back downstairs, taking both of their cups to the sink and rinsing them out. He unloaded the plastic bag, leaving the box of tea next to the stove so she knew where it was if she wanted another cup and ripped open the box of crackers, pulling a sleeve out before he gathered the rest and went back up to her room.
She was still out when he arranged the things he’d brought her on the nightstand next to her head and smiled when he looked down at her sleeping face. There was no scowl, no pinch between her brows, no snarky comments falling from her pouting lips. Just a peaceful, make-up free face and a messy top knot that he thought suited her more than the fancy curls she usually wore at work.
He made his way back downstairs, turning off the lights as he went and checking to make sure the sliding glass door and all of the windows were locked before he scribbled her a little note that he left on the counter. After a final glance around the main floor, he grabbed his phone and keys and stepped outside, locking the doorknob and pulling it shut. He jiggled the handle, making sure it wouldn’t budge, before he jogged down the steps and to his car, hoping that he helped her even a little and knowing that when he saw her the next day, she probably wouldn’t acknowledge it.
Thursday…
The Great Let Down
The sun was shining when Dillon woke up and for a moment, she had no idea what was going on. She always closed her blinds before bed and she never slept in the robe that she was still wearing. It wasn’t until she cracked her eyes open and saw the stuff on her nightstand that she remembered what happened the night before.
“Fuck.” She rolled over, expecting her neck to be stiff and her back to creak in objection but surprisingly her body felt relaxed. Her cheeks flushed, not from the fever that had come and gone, but from embarrassment, knowing that she’d let him cross a line the night before that she had never intended to be crossed. His touch may have been innocent but she never should have allowed it. She was his employer and he clearly didn’t need any encouragement from her.
She sat up slowly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and undoing her robe. She was overheated from sleeping in the thick fleece and tossed it aside before she reached for the bottle of Gatorade. She didn’t know how he knew that blue was her favorite kind, or that she preferred the Townhouse crackers he’d left next to the box of chewable Pepto-Bismol tablets over the usual saltines that people ate when they were sick. She could have shrugged it off, figuring that he just picked these things at random because anyone would like them when they were sick. But then she spotted something that only her parents knew that she liked when she was sick and she realized that he must have asked her mother what to bring. She reached for the box of cinnamon Teddy Grahams, frowning at them before she set them aside and headed for the bathroom. She needed a shower, needed to wash away the last twenty-four hours and any memories that they left behind.
—
Harry was tired, but he felt good. He’d only slept for four hours before his phone rang and Julia begged him to come in and give Niall a hand setting up the bar. The flu was hitting them hard and she was scrounging for all the help she could get, wanting those that were ill to stay home and get better so no one else got sick. Unfortunately for Harry, that meant little sleep and a hell of a long day.
“You look like shit,” Niall commented as Harry joined him behind the bar. “I tried to get her not to call you in but she was desperate. What time did you get in?”
“After three.” Harry washed his hands before he went about slicing the lemons and limes that Niall already had washed.
“You’re being awfully secretive.” Niall eyed him carefully while he wiped down the bottles in the liquor well. “Going to tell me what you were up to?”
“Nope.”
“Fine, be mysterious. I’ll get it out of you sooner or later.”
—
“You look better.” Julia smiled at Dillon when she walked into the office at half past five looking like her normal self. “Did you get some sleep?”
“Yeah. Thanks for letting me take the morning off.”
“Of course, baby. So.” Julia looked at her daughter expectedly.
“So what?”
“Dillon.”
“Mother.”
“Did Harry pay you a visit?”
“He did.” Dillon turned her back, busying her hands so her mom would see her blushing.
“And?”
“And what? He brought me tea and crackers, it’s no big deal.”
“I think if a boy asks me for my daughter’s address so he can check on her in the middle of the night, it’s a big deal.”
“Well it’s not. I’m going to go check on the kitchen.”
“It’s okay to let him in, you know.”
“Why do people keep saying that?” Dillon demanded. “He acts nice to me and makes tea and buys me Teddy Grahams and I’m just supposed to fall into his arms or be his best friend?”
“He bought you Teddy Grahams?”
“Of course he did, you told him to!”
“No I didn’t.” Julia shook her head at her. “I didn’t tell him to buy you anything.”
“Oh right,” Dillon scoffed. “So he just happened to pick up all of my favorite things without having any help?”
“Honey, I swear.” Julia held her hands up. “I didn’t say a word about it. He just asked if I minded if he checked on you instead of me.”
Dillon walked out of the room, unable to continue looking at the genuine expression on her mother’s face. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she got closer to the dining room, knowing he was out there sitting at the piano and that she’d have to face him at some point during the evening. The last day had been a complete mind fuck and she didn’t even know where to start when it came to Harry.
“Dilly!”
“Jesus Christ!” she shrieked, grabbing her chest and staring at Niall with wide eyes.
“Are you okay?” he laughed, grabbing her arm to steady her. “Why are you so jumpy?”
“You came out of nowhere.”
“I said your name twice.” He looked confused as he stared at her. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You can go home, I’ll stay until close.”
“I’m fine.” She smoothed down the sides of her skirt, a nervous habit that he didn’t miss. “I just didn’t hear you.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look convinced but he let it go. “I just wanted to see how you were feeling.”
“Fine.”
“Okay,” he repeated, smiling because he knew she was lying but pointing that out would only piss her off more. “If you need anything or you want to go home let me know.”
“Thanks.” She nodded at him, giving him a tight smile before she disappeared into the chaos in the kitchen and let herself get lost in work, temporarily forgetting all about the green eyes that were searching the dining room for her.
—
“Thank you.” Harry smiled and did a little bow before he stepped off stage, shaking hands with a man seated in front with his wife. It was their anniversary and he had given Harry a very generous tip when he requested that he play Wonderful World. Harry tried to give the money back, telling him it would be an honor to play for them, but the man just rolled his eyes and dropped the fifty into the tip jar and winked at Harry before pulling his wife to the dance floor.
The night was going so well and he couldn’t help but feel excited as it came closer to an end. Tomorrow was the big day, the day that Dillon gave him her answer. He would either be heading back to Niceville to call him mum (possibly in tears) or he would be filling out tax forms and still calling him mum (hopefully not in tears). Either way, he just wanted an answer.
“Taking your break?” Niall asked when Harry went to get a bottle of water. It was after ten and the dining room was still half full but the atmosphere very relaxed. To be honest, he preferred the weeknights to the weekends. People came in to enjoy a nice meal before they went home to get ready for another day of work. Clothes were more casual, conversations were softer and the song requests were few and far between, leaving him to decide how to set the mood.
“Yeah, just gonna step outside for a bit, get some fresh air.” He brought the bottle to his lips and scanned the room. “Have you seen Dillon lately?”
“In the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
Harry clapped him on the back before he headed for the kitchen, wanting to check up on her and see if she got any sleep. He hadn’t spoken a word to her since she came in and he had a very bad feeling that it was because she wanted to forget about last night. He, on the other hand, did not. He was just about to push through the swinging door when a cold hand gripped his forearm.
“Hello stranger.” He gulped as he looked down at the hand and followed it up until he was looking into familiar green eyes. Her smile was wicked and her lips blood red and he briefly remembered how he used to love that about her. Now all he felt was his stomach turning into knots.
“Pam.” The name no longer sounded sweet coming from his lips, but more like a trigger that sent his nerves buzzing. But not from excitement.
“Long time, no see.”
“Yeah.” He nodded as he carefully pulled his arm free and took a step back as a server came out with a tray, barely missing clipping him with it. She followed him down the hallway toward the restrooms and leaned her back against the wall as she watched him.
“How are you?” she asked, eyes roaming his face.
“Good, I’m…yeah, I’m good. You?”
“Good.” She chuckled under her breath as she watched him shove his hands into his pockets. “You seem nervous.”
“Wasn’t expectin’ to see you.”
“I wasn’t either but I’m down here visiting my grandmother and I heard from Lucy that you got a new job so I thought I’d come see for myself.”
“Why?” Harry scoffed. “You didn’t care to come to my shows when we were together.”
“Come on Haz.” Her laugh made him cringe. He couldn’t understand how he’d ever found it attractive. “Don’t be bitter, it was a long time ago.”
“You fucked my best friend,” he reminded her. “I never pegged you for a cliché but then again I guess I never knew you.”
“I apologized for that, several times. You can’t hold a grudge forever.”
“I lost my best friend and my girlfriend that day. Think I have the right to be a little pissed off.”
“Why don’t we go outside,” she suggested, pushing herself off of the wall. “We can talk in private, catch up.” She was touching him again only this time she didn’t let him shake her off.
“You should go.”
“See, I don’t think you mean that.” She closed the distance between them, sliding her hands up his chest until they laced behind his neck. “I know all your tells, H. You’re nervous.”
“Not because of you.” His eyes darted to the entryway of the hall before flickering back to hers. “Seriously.” He reached behind his head, wrapping his fingers are her wrists. “You need to-“
Pam dove forward, pressing her mouth to his with a groan and pushing her hips flush against his. He froze, momentarily stunned before he snapped out of it and went to pull away. Unfortunately, he knew it was too late when he heard the sound of heels clicking on the floor.
Dillon froze when she saw them. She wanted to say that she wasn’t surprised but that would be a lie. She’s pegged him as a womanizer, as a guy that used his accent and charm to get women to fawn over him. But she thought about it all night, how he showed up at two in the morning with tea and crackers and fucking Cinnamon Teddy Grahams and hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’d gotten him all wrong. God, she felt like a fool.
Harry ripped his mouth away from Pam’s and yanked on her arms to free him from her grasp.
“Dill.” Her pushed Pam aside, taking a step toward Dillon but stopping when she shook her head at him. “Dillon, it’s not-“
“Stop.” She knew her voice sounded weak and she hated him for it. She hated him for so many things but mostly for making her feel stupid. “You need to leave.”
“What?”
“Leave.” She took a step back when he tried to get closer. His lips were smeared with red and it made her stomach roll. “God,” she laughed, shaking her head at him. “I should have known better.”
“I didn’t do anything, I swear. I was trying to pull away when you-“
“I don’t care, Harry. I warned you, I told you to keep your hands to yourself. I told you I wouldn’t deal with any unprofessional behavior if you worked here.”
“It wasn’t my fault!” he shouted, gesturing towards Pam who was watching on with a smirk. “She literally jumped me, you know I wouldn’t do something like this, not to you.”
“No.” She shook her head and smiled. “I think I finally got a glimpse of the real Harry, the one I met a week ago that promised he wouldn’t let me down. Well thanks.” She clapped him on the shoulder before she turned away. “She saved me a lot of trouble.”
Friday…
Change My Mind
“Harry.” Niall watched as he slipped his boots on and tugged on the lapels of his black jacket. “Don’t go.”
“I have to, Niall.” Harry grabbed his keys and slid his phone into his back pocket, running a nervous hand through his hair.
“She doesn’t want to see you, man. You’re just going to make it worse.”
“So what?” Harry snapped. “I just go back home and sit in my shitty apartment and pretend like nothing’s wrong? No.” He shook his head violently. “I told you last night, I’m not just gonna let it go.”
“I know, H, but it’s just a job-“
“I don’t give a shit about the job!” Harry shouted. “She doesn’t want me there, I get that, but this is about her, Niall. I can handle working shitty gigs until something else comes along but what I can’t handle is her thinking that I’m an asshole who doesn’t care about her.”
“Okay.” Niall smiled, getting the answer he wanted. He wanted Harry angry, he wanted him going in there prepared to fight even though it wasn’t necessary. But he didn’t need to know that. “Good luck.” He gave Harry a hug, slapping his back and muttering words of encouragement as he left the apartment. He pulled his phone out of his shorts, shooting Dillon a message before he relaxed back onto the couch. He’d stripped down to his boxes and set a six pack of beer next to his feet on the coffee table. He hadn’t had the apartment to himself in a week and he was going to take advantage of it while he still could.
—
When Harry walked into Henna Seas just before midnight, for a brief moment he thought about walking right back out. What if he was making a mistake? What if she told him he was a pig and to get the fuck out? He heard the sound of the piano when he shut the door behind him and his heart sank. She’d replaced him. He knew she would, she’d have to but he didn’t think she’d do it so quickly. Then again, she’d done the same thing when Zayn fucked her over too.
“Hi Harry.” Melanie smiled at him from the host station and he was relieved when it looked like she wasn’t surprised to see him. Maybe Dillon hadn’t told anybody what happened. If she did, the petite girl in front of him surely wouldn’t be pleased to see him. “Don’t you have off tonight?”
“I…yeah.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.
“Did you want a table?”
“No, erm, I just…need to talk to Dillon for a sec.”
“Oh sure, she’s in the office.” She turned away from him to bid farewell to a couple on their way out and Harry took that as his cue to head toward the back.
The door was open and he could vaguely hear the clicking of the keys on the computer as he stopped just outside. He didn’t think he had ever been as nervous as he was in that moment and he knew if he didn’t act soon, he’d puss out and run for the door.
Dillon was sitting at the computer when he stepped in the room. Her hair was pulled back from her face, allowing him to get a good look at her and commit her face to memory in case she didn’t want to see him again. He prayed that wasn’t the case, but he needed to be prepared for rejection.
“Can I help you?” she asked, not once looking in his direction as he stared at her. She’d heard him coming down the hall, immediately recognizing the sound his pigeon-toed feet made when his boots dragged across the floor. There was a beat of silence when he’d been standing outside of the door and for a second she thought he might not actually come in.
“Do you have a minute?” He cleared his throat nervously, clasping his hands behind his back as he waited for an answer.
“I’m a little busy.” Her tone wasn’t angry but it wasn’t happy either. She looked up at him, giving away nothing as her eyes stared into his blankly. “I have a lot to do before we close.”
“I can wait.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged him off, turning back to her work and ignoring his presence all together.
“I’ll be out front,” he murmured, heading for the bar. If he was going to make it through listening to her dismiss him, he was going to need something to take the edge off.
—
It was after one when Dillon went looking for him. She hadn’t meant to make him sit and stew but then again, maybe he deserved it a little bit. This whole thing was a mess and really, it was his fault. Not all of it, but most of it.
She walked through the empty dining room, asking Alex if he’d seen Harry and thanking him when he told her he was sitting out on the patio. There were only a few people left at the outdoor bar and for that she was thankful. She wasn’t really in the mood for an audience.
“You were right.” Harry’s head shot up at the sound of her voice. She was standing a few feet away, leaning against the patio railing with her hands behind her back just watching him. He’d spent the last twenty minutes so busy frowning into his empty pint glass that he hadn’t even heard her come out. “You’ve done everything I asked and I treated you like shit.”
He watched carefully as she walked toward him, pulling out a chair and taking a seat. He didn’t say a word as she turned her head to the ocean. It was too dark to see but she could hear and smell it and that alone calmed her nerves.
“My parents want to retire.” Every time she said that out loud it made her stomach turn. She wasn’t ready to be without them, even if they assured her that she was. “They want to travel the world and enjoy the rest of their quote ‘youth’ before I settle down and give them half a dozen grandbabies to fawn over.” Her pointer finger was drawing random shapes on the surface of the table and he couldn’t help but watch the pattern, trying to get a sense of what was going on in her head. “I love this place, and I know what it means to them. I’m afraid of failing.”
She looked over at him, watching the way he was watching her and for the first time in eight days, she didn’t feel uncomfortable under his gaze.
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m a bit of a perfectionist.” She smiled when he laughed, happy that at least a little of the tension was relieved.
“I got the hint.”
“I’m just…really afraid of letting them down. They poured their heart and soul into this business with the sole purpose of leaving it to me and the pressure I feel to make it successful sometimes makes it difficult for me to make decisions that are professional. I make it personal, and emotional.” She looked away again, back toward the invisible waves. “Zayn screwed me over, and what was worse was that he was my friend. I trusted him, I relied on him, and when you showed up and promised to have my back all I saw was him. That wasn’t fair of me.”
“I deserved it,” he excused. “I was a dick and I’ll never be able to apologize enough for how I acted. I talked to your mum on Sunday, when I came in early to give them a hand. She told me how important first impressions were to you and I fucked it up by acting like a pig. I just…you’re beautiful and you looked so out of place in that crowd. I just wanted to introduce myself.”
“You wanted to do a lot more than that,” she teased, nudging his leg with her foot.
“I did,” he laughed, a light blush adorning his cheeks. “Can’t blame me when you look like that. I’m sorry, Dillon.”
“I know.” She nodded to herself as she looked out toward the beach. “I’m sorry too.”
“I’m sorry about last night.” She grimaced when he brought it up and he knew it was now or never. “I swear to you it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“No?” She looked over at him, quirking a brow. “You weren’t kissing that girl in my restaurant?”
“No.”
“Harry,” she laughed, shaking her head at him. “You do realize that I saw you, right?”
“She kissed me,” he corrected. “There was absolutely no reciprocation on my part, at fucking all. I need you to believe me, Dill. Please.”
“I do.”
“You do what?”
“I believe you,” she shrugged. “And honestly, it’s not my business what you do.”
“That’s…no, that’s not what I want.” The corners of his mouth turned down into a deep frown that almost looked comical.
“What do you mean?”
“I want it to be your business.” He didn’t know if it was his pride or the beer that was rising up his throat but he swallowed it down and threw caution to the wind. “I want who I’m with to be your business. I want who kisses me or holds my hand or mocks my clothing to be your business. I’m making you my business, Dillon. I want you to make me yours.”
She stared at him for what seemed like hours and he knew by the shock clearly showing on her face that she wasn’t going to speak anytime soon unless he forced her hand.
“Weren’t expecting that, were you?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly, still unable to really process what had just come out of his mouth. She knew after her conversation with Niall the night before that Harry cared about her. Niall told him how he came home freaking out, yanking on his hair and asking Niall how to fix things with her. That was part of the reason that she was going to forgive him for it. The other reason was because her gut was telling her to, and maybe her heart was as well. If him taking care of her when she was sick wasn’t a testament to how he felt, she didn’t know what was. But apparently she’d underestimated just how much he did care. “Harry-“
“I know I probably sound like a twat but I can’t walk out of here tonight without you knowing that you’re important to me. Eight days or eight years, doesn’t make a difference. I’m not here for the job, I’m not here to save face. I came here for you.”
“First of all, you’re not walking out of here.” She brought the hand she’d been hiding from him out and set the familiar black folder in front of him.
“You’re-“ He picked it up and flipped it open, scanning the pages. “You’re offering me the job?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I fucked up. You already have a replacement.”
“Jake isn’t your replacement, he was just filling in for the night. And if you’re referring to the night we met or all of the other annoyances you’ve caused me over the last eight days then yes, you fucked up, but not enough to warrant me letting you go. As for last night, I know that wasn’t your fault. Niall,” she told him when he continued to look confused. “He called me and told me what happened, that you were freaking out.” She smiled deviously. “Did you really cry?”
“No I didn’t cry!”
“Damn,” she laughed. “I knew he was lying but that would have been funny.”
“Glad you think so.” He ran a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. “So I owe Niall for this? For you giving me another chance?”
“I think it’s only fitting,” she shrugged, giving him a little smile. “He brought you to me in the first place.”
“Then I owe him a lot. Dillon.” His face turned serious. “Are we good?”
“We are,” she confirmed.
“What about…the other stuff?”
“You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Come on,” he groaned, dropping his head on his neck. “Don’t make me repeat it.”
“Why not?” she laughed. “Have your feelings changed in the last five minutes?”
“No.” He looked back up with a scowl. “But if they’re not reciprocated in any way, I might just have to go for a night swim and not come back.”
“Oh shut up,” she laughed, pushing her chair out from under the table. “Come on.” She held a hand out for him. “Let’s get this paperwork filled out so you’re ready for your first day tomorrow.”
He took her hand and stood up, grabbing the folder as she led him in. She went to pull her hand away but he squeezed it tight, pulling her to a stop. He needed to know.
“Are they?” he asked, voice hoarse as he stared at her.
“Are they what?”
“Reciprocated,” he huffed, tugging her closer. “Come on Dill, put me out of my fucking misery.”
His breath hitched when she leaned in, pressing her lips to his jaw and relishing in the feel of their softness against his skin. He wanted nothing more than to grab her face and feel them against his own but he knew better. He could not screw this up.
“Well?” he prodded, whining when she pulled her hand free and started backing away.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, laughing when he let out a low growl. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”
5, 6, 16, & 17 for Tenley?
thank you for asking!!
I’ve just done number 5.
6. What’s the oldest item in their refrigerator?
A vegetable juice that she bought thinking that she was going to drink it and starting a healthy lifestyle, but it’s just not working out especially since she lives with Louis and they have take-outs all the time. So the vegetable juice is forgotten. Besides, she doesn’t really like it and only bought it because Shiloh told her to.
16. What do they consider their greatest achievement?
Tenley definitely considers graduating high school as her greatest achievement. She hates school, so being able to graduate makes her feel so proud of herself. And she also considers getting to live with Louis as another one of her greatest achievements.
17. How much time do they spend on the Internet?
She spends a considerable amount of time on the internet during the weekdays since she has classes and all but during the weekends, she spends most of her time on the internet to catch up on things she’s been missing out if she has no where to go. Also, Tenley usually goes on the internet before she goes to bed because that’s when she checks up on all of her social networks.
lyinginyourattic replied to your post“i’m so glad to have gotten a tumblr and become part of this...”
good luck you'll do great!!!!
wordsbestforgotten replied to your post“i’m so glad to have gotten a tumblr and become part of this...”
you can do it! your speech will be awesome :)
thanks you two!! i really really hope so but i have a tendency to act like an idiot when i do public speaking lmao <333
rules: always post the rules. answer the questions from the person who tagged you and write eleven new ones. tag eleven people and link them to the post. actually tell them you tagged them.
I was tagged by wordsbestforgotten and I'm kind of fangirling like crazy over it.
How many pairs of shoes do you own? 13-15. In my defence though, my feet haven't grown in probably 6 years. :P
Favorite book? Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.
Dream vacation? Probably the UK. I've hardly travelled at all, so truthfully, anywhere would be amazing.
Best piece of advice you’ve ever been given? You can say “no”, you know.
Coffee or tea? Neither; always hot chocolate.
Five ingredients for the ultimate smoothie? Strawberries, raspberries, honey, yogurt, and milk.
First concert you went to? Hilary Duff, back in 2004.
Favorite song at the moment? One Direction's 18. Every song on FOUR is incredible.
Biggest pet peeve? Slow walkers ahhhhhhhhsdkfjlsdldf
Cold & sunny or cloudy & warm? Cloudy and warm for sure. I can't handle the Canadian cold.
The subject you hated most in school, and why? Phys. ed. I've never liked sports. Or anything involving physical exertion.
My questions: 1. Who's the most influential person in your life? 2. What's one way you think you've impacted the world? 3. How do you want to impact the world in the future? 4. What tabs are open in your browser right now? 5. Favourite snack food? 6. What's a book you've read that's somehow changed you/how did it change you? 7. Is there something you should be doing right now rather than answer these questions? 8. What's your favourite album of all time? 9. What's your earliest memory? 10. Do you have any nicknames? 11. What's the one question you'd ask your favourite celebrity if you got the chance to meet them?
I tag: lumberjack-swag, bubtrue, mankonator, and anyone who'd like to do it!
