#tapa if you’re happen to read this

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts IV

A/N: hello my loves this final part to this fic completes the birth of one of my favourite fics I’ve written. Thank you for reading and enjoying it just as much—every like, comment, and dm meant the world <3

Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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We have an extra day in Barcelona and the team is buzzing to enjoy their nightlife since we could sleep all day tomorrow. I’d visited here while I was a uni student so I give some suggestions.

Harry’s a little on edge the whole time. Earlier today some headline from a musician Harry worked with was taken out of context and thus took the internet by storm. Now he was being flooded with people wanting to know his thoughts and feelings. It was a hot topic.

With a joint effort of me, Jeff, and Graham, we tried to keep the spotlight on his Barcelona show. Well my role was mostly to screen Harry from seeing any further discourse online.

The show itself was one of the loudest I’d been to—I was glad I had my own ear protection. The tense Harry falls away and he’s electric on stage. Even coming backstage he’s on a high; he hugs the crew and thanks everyone like he usually did at the end of shows and disappears into his dressing room with Jeff. They look like they’re talking intensely.

“So,” Sarah slides in beside me. “We noticed you’re a bit different coming back. What’s happened?”

I try to play dumb but the girls keep pushing.

“Me and my fiancé ended things,” I confess. They gasp, Claire’s eyes actually fill with tears.

“Shh!” I shush them. “Keep it on the down low please I don’t want anyone to know.”

“But y/n why are you even here!? Is it because of tour! I’m sure Harry could have rearranged things-“

“No no,” I appreciated their support but I didn’t want to hash things out. “It’s just…I think it was a long time coming. God, I don’t wanna cry. I’m good. For now. And I want to be on tour I need the distraction.”

“I get it,” they sympathize. “We’re gonna make you forget so hard tonight.”

“Okay but don’t,” I look around us to make sure there was nobody else around. “Please don’t tell Harry. Seriously please. I don’t want him to know especially. I don’t want him to treat me differently or something.”

“Lips are sealed.” Sarah zips her mouth. “But we can all tell you’re off. It’s hard not to practically living together these last couple months. If he asks we’ll say…”

“Just say she’s on a break?” Charlie suggests.

“Yeah,” I shrug. “Things are complicated, I’m on a break, whatever that’s fine.”

The girls lean towards me and envelop me in a hug. It reminds me of my friends I’d said goodbye to.

“Thanks,” I say through tears.

And the girls hold me to their promise.

After we get dressed for the night—I chose a corset-style top and trousers—we head out. The sun dips below the horizon and the old city is cast in a warm orange glow that could inspire anyone who set eyes on it. String lights come on and music plays from various doors; the city is alive.

We tease each other about looking so glam as we wander the narrow cobblestone streets. Aside from the shows we all wore sweats and tees.

Every place we pass sets my senses alight. We grab tapas from a place that smells irresistible and chat over each other about tonight’s wicked show. I continue avoiding Harry by sitting as far away from him as I can get.

As we wander off in search of the club I can’t help but feel a twinge at how incredibly romantic the moonlit streets felt.

The club is loud and alive, the noise levels even feel normal after the roar of the last few of Harry’s shows. My mood starts shooting up steadily as I drink in the energy around me.

We join the crowd and I give away my worries and my annoyances to enjoy the music. I feel it in my chest and for a blissful moment I’m grateful for my whole damn life despite everything.

“Cute guy!” Someone shouts in my ear.

Charlie nudges me to one of the guys dancing nearby. “Get distracted!”

I shake my head no.

“Do it!” She cheers. It barely travels to me. She grabs Claire’s hand and tugs her, letting her in on the plan and they goad me into going for it.

I motion a drink. I’d need another shot for the courage.

We trail back to the bar and do a round of shots, and they grin with thumbs up as I hesitantly enter the crowd again.

The dude they pointed out is tall and beautiful. Like beautiful not even handsome. I get stuck looking up at him in awe, he wasn’t really my type. A tad too pretty boy but when he notices me looking he smiles and I’m won over. I couldn’t deny a good smile.

“Hey!” He turns his body to me. At least I think he say hey.

“Hey!” I shout back.

“Que pasa?”

“What?!” I couldn’t hear a single thing. What did I expect.

He smiles and takes my hand that had been anxiously playing with the edge of my top. The other has a hand splint that I’d received in Madrid. Apparently I sprained my fingers.

The stranger wriggles both my hands to loosen them, raising his brow at the splint. I laugh.

He asks in my ear but I don’t understand. It sounds like a question, something bylar. When I scrunch my brows he laughs, “Dance! We dance!?”

“Dance!” I laugh. He was cute! “Yes! I want to dance with you!”

“Vamos,” he pulls me in. I understood that at least.

I used to do this in uni, I think. I should be able to do it again.

He teases me a little because I’m so tense. His hands knead down my back to my waist to get me to relax. It feels nice, being touched by a man that looks like he was carved from marble but filled with music.

I begin to find my rhythm and sway with him, eventually letting go completely. He compliments me as I start to move with him and pretty soon I’ve channeled my 20-year-old self. It feels pretty spectacular.

When his lips ghost my cheek I don’t protest. Right now, I felt good. Everything was on the back burner’s back burner and I felt grounded in this nighclub with this random stranger who was paying attention to me, just me. And it’s just us. And it’s just temporary. And I feel good.

When I turn around, my back to his chest, he moves my hair to the side and kisses down my neck. It felt good.

I run my hand up into his hair and he moves lower murmuring foreign words on my skin, our bodies still dancing in the same language, his hands still gripping my waist and my hips. I feel blissed out.

It ends in a split second.

“What are you doing?” Harry’s suddenly tugging me towards him. His mouth makes the words I just fill them in with his annoyingly bossy voice.

“Hey man,” the guy I’m dancing with tries to get in between us.

“What are you doing!?” I snatch my hand away from Harry.

Harry puts his hand on my partner’s chest and says something to him, maybe in Spanish. He looks at me with puppy dog eyes and I look at Harry. What had he said.

“What did you say?” I ask. I try to call back my dancing partner but he just salutes me with a smile and fades into the crowd. No wait, I’m being dragged away.

“Y/n what are you doing out there?”

“What am I doing?” I shout. “What are you?! I was having a nice time with that guy what did you say to him?”

He walks away, further back into the edges of the club. There’s a few people milling about with a number of them involved in heavy makeout sessions.

Harry turns to face me finally. “You’re engaged y/n, Claire and Sarah said things are complicated at home is that why you’re doing this?”

“What!” I throw my hands up, tears prick my eyes. What the fuck was his problem! Since when did he care? “Why do you care?! Yes, things are complicated and I was getting my mind off of said things—what is your issue? You want to drag me back here and remind me of how shitty things have been?”

“This isn’t the way,” Harry insists. “You don’t even know that guy!”

“Whatever I’m over this convo.”

I turn to leave but Harry grabs my hand, the one in the splint, and pulls me back.

“Sorry,” he lets go of the splint. Then picks it up again. “Look. I’m worried about you. This isn’t you, you’re not the girl that goes home with another guy when your fiancé is back at home! I just don’t want you making any regrets.”

“Oh is that it,” I step towards him so my hand isn’t so outstretched. He stands still but on my second step he inches back. “Since when did you get a high horse huh? Don’t tell me who I am and who I’m not. You barely know me! If I want to make decisions I regret I can do that. They’re mine to make.”

“No. Y/n, as mad as you are don’t go home with a stranger.”

“As if you don’t!” I scoff. “What’s your real agenda here? What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” He insists.

“Why do you suddenly care so much about my chastity?”

“It’s for your own good!”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying and I don’t know why he pulled me away from my beautiful Spanish dance partner but I was actually relaxing and now he’s put me right back into this crazed and tense headspace I kept finding myself in.

Fine, I decide. I could make him regret it.

“Really? You care about my morality that much?” I ask.

With my hand flat on his chest I’ve pushed him further into the wall behind him. He watches me with a guarded look.

But I want him unguarded, vulnerable. The same way he’s made me feel. I lean in, “Are you really worried about the technicalities of me cheating on my fiancé?”

I hover a half foot from his lips. Finally his eyes flicker down to my lips and I know I’ve got him.

I slide my hand up his chest and when my hand inches up the skin of his throat his eyes grow unguarded and heady with lust. He doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say no.

Hypocrite.

I drop my hand.

“That’s what I thought Mr. Styles.”

I watch for a wonderful moment as the lust clears from his eyes and he realizes what happened. Shame, embarrassment, resignation, and then anger.

I spin on my heel and head away from him. He could deal with the consequences of his actions all on his own.

I’m half-afraid he’ll come after me but luckily I make it out of the club alone.

“He’s such a dick,” I say more to myself. Just to get it out because I’m pissed. “Who the fuck does he think he is!?”

My night is over. I just want to take this all off and forget about it. Maybe I can lock myself in my room and raid the mini-fridge, get drunk and cry myself to sleep. Those seemed like the best options right now.

I take an uber to the hotel. As I walk up to it I notice a weird crowd outside. For nearly 2am I wasn’t expecting this and my instincts kick in that this wasn’t normal. Especially when I notice all the camera straps.

“Excuse me,” I ask the front desk. “Why are there a bunch of paparazzi outside?”

“Is there?” The man behind the counter asks. “Sorry we will tell them to leave. Are you staying with us?”

“That’s a privacy concern out there, and a concern with your staff because they’re here. How do they know who’s staying here?!”

It seems to dawn on him I wasn’t just asking out of curiosity. He promises me he’ll get management. In the meantime I call Jeff and explain the situation. He starts to panic the way I hated, looking for something to blame. He calls Graham who sounds like he’s driving in nascar. It’s a very noisy and over-stimulating conversation.

“Call Harry!” Jeff orders. “Tell him he cannot go back to the hotel no matter what! Fucking vultures man!”

“Y/N,” Graham says in a calmer voice. “You need to go back to where Harry is with some sort of disguise. A hat or sunglasses. That sort of thing-“

“It’s night.”

“Yes night. No glasses. Book the closest hotel you can find. Tell his band they can come back, but to go through the back. They might get spotted but they’re trained on dodging questions. That will keep the vultures there waiting for Harry and we can pick you two up back to the airport tomorrow morning. Where’s after this?”

“Glasgow,” I bite my nail as I think. I had to call Harry asap. What if he was on his way back. “I gotta go now to call him though. Talk later.”

I hang up and call Harry. He picks up the second time.

I explain the situation and he reacts the same way as Jeff, swearing and cursing the papps. I tell him what I was going to do and tell him to go right back into the club. To pass on the word to the team even though I was going to send them a text.

I head up to my room and grab what fits in my bag. I didn’t have Harry’s room key so I decide he’d have to wear my hat and head back out. The vultures stay waiting, now just a few feet further away from the entrance.

I speak briefly to management—I figured Jeff could talk to them and give his classic earful.

On the drive I find a nearby hotel to the club and collect Harry to get him there. We’re too tense to talk when we meet up. Once inside again, I tell him to sit in the lounge while I go up to the desk.

Act above it all, I channel a rich bitch. We needed privacy and we needed nobody to know Harry was here.

“Hi I need a room.” I say.

“Of course, how many night will you be staying with us.”

I glance back to see where Harry sits. He’s in a wingback chair that’s mostly turned away and with his hair stuffed in the baseball cap you can hardly tell it’s him.

“Just a night. I need your best room please.”

“Absolutely,” the woman smiles and I feel bad for only giving a tight-lipped smile back. I wait as she clicks away, finally looking back to me with a slight frown. “So miss unfortunately we are very booked tonight. There are a couple events going on in the city making things very popular.”

“The best room will do. Preferably large.”

“Well,” she hesitates. “A lot of our larger rooms are taken um. I can offer you a bed with one king, it is a bit smaller because it’s by the elevators. I also have one with a queen that is tucked away in the corner with a better view.”

I wanted to be as far away from Harry as possible but by an elevator was asking for trouble.

“Well, I’d rather stay far away from noise so we’ll take the queen.”

“Is that just you or…” she glances at Harry.

“Yes. Two. We’ve had a rough day of travel he’s just resting.”

I hand over ID and my card, trying not to balk at the total. At least I’ll get reimbursed.

“Do you have any bags?” The concierge swoops in as I get the key card.

“No! No. Like I said, bad travel day. We just need somewhere to sleep and we’ll reunite with the bags once they arrive tomorrow.”

They leave us alone after that. I hoped it was because I’d been standoffish enough and not plain weird.

The elevator ride up to the 8th floor is stony and I spend the spare second to text Jeff and Graham the hotel’s address.

The room itself is pretty sub-par and the adrenaline of getting Harry here safely wears off.

I drop my bag by the door and pull out my toiletry bag.

“I don’t have clothes for you to change into, I didn’t have your room key.”

“Yeah. S’fine. I’ll just sleep shirtless unless that bothers you.”

We stare at each other for a tense moment.

“I’m fine with that, you’re the one with the high horse.”

After doing all this for him I wasn’t going to be easy to deal with if he wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

He chooses to ignore me.

“How the fuck did they know I was staying there? We were under a-“

His phone rings and he answers. Sounds like Jeff.

I use the time to go to the bathroom and finally take off the makeup. I realize I should have grabbed my pjs from my bag too. I take my hair down and massage my scalp with my fingers, letting myself calm down despite the aggressive voices outside.

“Yeah whatever. Keep me updated.” I hear. Great. That was done with.

I leave the bathroom and Harry’s still pacing the floor.

“You’re gonna wear the carpet down if you keep doing that.”

He stops and looks at me, his eyes trail down my body.

“You didn’t bring yourself a change of clothes either?”

“You wish,” I head for my bag again and grab the tee and shorts. “I just forgot them out here.”

“Do you always have to be so snarky?”

Oh, so he wanted to fight. Good news for him, so did I.

“Depends. With you? When you’re being a dick? Yeah. I do.”

“It’s really quite unbecoming.”

“Is it?” I mock his accent. “It’s not proper for a lady to be snarky?”

“I don’t sound like that. You just never let anything go.” He continues.

“I never let anything go?” I repeat.

“Yeah! Ever!”

“What do you want me to let go?” I ask.

“Everything. You’re bothered by everything just let it all fucking go.”

“No like specifically what should I let go?” I turn on him and with each question I stalk towards him. “Being treated like trash by you? Being told I’m replaceable and unnecessary? Getting bossed around about who I can and can’t dance with because you suddenly decide to be the morality police!?”

“Jesus take it down a notch y/n.” We’re fuming as we square off. “I’m not your bloody fiancé.”

“And thank fuck you’re not!” I throw the clothes in my hand on the bed. “You’re my employer Mr. Styles and I’ve been nothing but a good fucking employee for the last year! I try to keep my patience and do everything I can to do my best! You’re the one always trying to blur lines! You’re the one always getting in my damn business when I don’t pay you to!”

With every accusation I poke my finger into his chest and it’s like literally pushing buttons. His face gets stonier and stonier until I’m sure he’s going to crack.

“You wanna know what your fucking issue is?” He swipes my hand away.

“Oh sure tell me, wise Harry Styles who definitely has no issues at all. Tell me.”

“This. This is your fucking issue,” he spits. “You’ve always got such a temper on you! I’m not blurring any bloody lines I check up on you and you get all offended over nothing!”

“Over nothing?” I ask. I laugh sarcastically and walk away from him. I was seeing red. “Over nothing?”

“Yes! I don’t do shite and suddenly you’re trying to bite my dick off.”

“You fucking wish,” I turn on him. “It’s crazy you don’t realize what an absolute jackass you are! We should be refunding all those fans who’ve come out to see you because the man they’re paying for is a fake! You’ve treated me like nothing and embarrassed me countless time-“

“Embarrassed you,” he scoffs.

“Yes!” I go on. “What do you call what you said on our way to Paris huh? You can be so cruel! So if I have a temper it’s justified because you’re one of the worst people I’ve met!”

“What did I say?”

“Are you kidding? You’re going to make me repeat it?” He was crazy. He was depraved and absolutely insane. Or he just hated me.

“I’m not playing a game just tell me!”

“You said I could have skipped the whole tour and nobody would notice.” I say the words that had looped through my head. And of course, he has the audacity to look surprised. “Thanks. A lot! It makes it even worse that you were so casual with your cruelt-“

“You need to stop being so sensitive,” he has the nerve to say. “Then maybe you can manage your temper.”

“I can manage my temper any time but you’re moody like a pre-pubescent teen and that looks to be a lifetime fucking problem!”

“What’s your fucking problem Y/n! What is your problem with me!? Why do you still work for me if you are this angry all the time!”

“I’m not this angry all the time, you just makes me this angry! And I hate you for it!”

“Then quit!”

“Maybe I will!” I had to. After tonight and this blowout I had to. How could I work for Harry like this.

“Great! Then you can take your problems with you.”

“Don’t gaslight me,” how dare he. “You’re not innocent in this! You create my problems and blame me for being this way.”

“Whatever y/n.”

“No.” I wasn’t letting him off the hook. I get in his face again. “Why did you stop me tonight? Why did you keep me from doing what I wanted tonight?”

“What? I told you I was looking out-“

“Bullshit!” I cut him off. “That’s a bullshit excuse, I want to know why!?”

I feel like I’m made of flames and in desperate need of a lobotomy. How could one guy make me this crazy. How could it all revolve around him.

“I was doing it for your own good! But clearly I understand why it’s so fucking complicated with your partner-“

“Don’t you dare talk about him,” I seethe. I was mad. Fuming. I want to get physical, I wish I could throttle him or at the very least access one of the pillows from across the room and smash it to the floor. I want him to see how angry I am because my words are twisted with every angle Harry could find. I wanted him to admit to something he’s been skirting for a long time. “Tell me.”

Harry stares at me with hate in his eyes and I know I have the same look. I wasn’t going to let him get away.

“You don’t even have the balls to admit it,” I poke. “Is this why you’re so hard-headed to anything I say? Because you can’t even admit something like this to yourself?”

“Just shut the fuck up y/n and stop being so mental.”

“I refuse to shut up. I want you to talk.”

His breathing gets faster and I watch him flex his hand. He was as angry as I was. Good.

“You’re a fraud. And I hate you.” I step into his space. Our bodies are a hair’s breadth away from each other’s. I want to show him how mad he makes me. I want to do something. I want him to admit this thing he’s been dancing around. It makes me so mad!

When he starts to shake his head at me I lose it. Instinct takes over where I want to physically show him how angry he was making me. I grab his face in my hands and push my mouth against his. I meet teeth.

But it doesn’t take long for him to respond. To correct the unadulterated anger with purpose.

He pushes back, kissing me harder whilst pushing me against the wall. I feel sandwiched, my chest crushed against his and I bite down on his lip trying to get back some control.

My hands are all over him, grabbing his shirt, running through his hair, pushing under his shirt to touch skin. Harry does the same, pulling at my hair and lifting me onto him.

Our tongues clash together, his hand grabs my ass, squeezing and moving up. His hands feel hot on my skin, his metal rings an icy contrast. Neither of us want to give up control. We keep fighting, just now with our bodies.

“Why can’t you ever just let it go,” he traces his teeth over my collarbone. It all feels too much.

In response I push him back, he stares at me for a heated second before we crash into each other again. We don't care where we are. All that mattered was here and showing the other who was in control. Who hated who the most.

Harry pulls away, his mouth a deep pink from our fight. His eyes are half lidded, his pupils dilated. I can tell he wants this but a part of him hesitates.

"We're doing this," I commit, not taking my eyes off his lips.

"I’m doing this," he growls and lifts me up, any hesitancy washed away. I wrap my legs around him, not thinking about anything but what I was going to do.

He whirls me around and deposits me onto the bed, and his body covers mine while his mouth attack my neck.

He wasn't gentle or slow, but then again, I didn't want him to be. I pull off his shirt, not wanting anything between us, not caring that my nails would leave marks down his back. Leaving something permanent on him sounded exactly what I needed.

I tug on his hair as his teeth come down on my chest. I feel heated as he swears, “Teasing me with this top all night was a fucking sin y/n.”

“Fuck off,” I gasp as he figures out the row of clasps at the front and the icy rings of his fingers presses against my sternum. I grit my teeth, “I didn’t wear this for you.”

His abs contract as he pushes himself back up, his eyes dark as his hands find the clasp on my trousers, undoing them with ease and tugging them off. His other hand comes back up to tilt my chin up.

“D’you really hate me?” He asks.

“Yes,” I respond with zero hesitation.

He moves his body, covering mine with his own again. My breath catches in my throat as he presses his lips to my neck, slowly moving down. He drives me crazy with anticipation and I wriggle up to keep up the pace but he holds me in place. I let out a moan as he kisses my inner thighs, his fingers gripping the tops of them. I'm squirming under his hold, the heat pooling inside of me.

“Do you hate me?” He asks again.

“Yes,” I cry, not wanting to relent to him.

“Good,” he says and that’s the last thing I remember.

The rest is a tangle of limbs, an out-of-body sensation, and seismic wave after wave coursing through my body. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before; the fury we felt with each other fuzes to the passion of the moment and it blitzes every damn thought out of my head.

Hours later, or maybe the whole night later—I don’t know but all I do know was that my body was spent and I was barely hanging on.

“I can’t,” I plant my hands on his shoulders and nearly pitch forward just from pausing. His hand splays on my back, keeping me in place as he turns us around.

“Okay?” He asks low.

I nod, grateful that he was taking over.

And after riding out what I know would be my last wave he rolls off of me, and we lay there just trying to catch our breaths.

After a few minutes, I sense him tilting towards me, his eyes on my face. When he stares for so long it becomes obvious, I look back at him.

His eyes are not the same ones that started this mess, they’re breezy meadows of green compared to the icy sea glass from before. But it’s not surprising. With each round and each minute we spent with other tonight, things had grown softer. Not gentle, but softer.

And as we look at each other with the awareness that the anger had bled into the threads of these tangled sheets a long time ago, we’re left with something neither of us want to distinguish. At least I don’t.

His gaze holds something too real for a place like this and I quickly look away and back at the ceiling. I feel his eyes on me a moment longer before he himself turns away to stare at the same ceiling.

“Y/N,” someone suddenly calls my name, tapping my cheeks with a gentle pat. I have to pull myself from the depths of wherever the fuck I just went to open my eyes and look up, at Harry. He looks concerned and asks me a question that I don’t register—I was truly out of it. I must have dozed off.

I push his hand away and grab the closest piece of clothing to wrap around myself in which ends up being a sheet. I take myself to the bathroom to clean up.

I hardly recognize the girl in the mirror. My eyes are blown out and my neck looks like it was rammed by a bull. I can hardly look at the rest of me. I would need to buy something high necked before we got picked up tomorrow morning and use all the concealer I had. I know I marked every inch of him I could find too.

I had never felt that level of passion with anyone. It was unnerving.

My knees collapse under me as I sit on the toilet and try to count the tiles on the opposite wall, just to come back to earth. To my body.

I sense a shadow under the door after I’m in there for a while, I watch it move from one side to the other and then move away. I wait longer, nearly falling asleep there before going back out.

The bed looks a right mess and most of the duvet is twisted to the side. I don’t bother with it, I use the sheet I’m wrapped in and crawl right into bed. Harry seems to have fallen asleep too but as I near sleep I feel the bed dip and the heavy weight of the duvet drapes over me.

I don’t have enough clarity or energy tonight to think about what any of this meant but I know I was right about leaving.

***

We return to London on a Wednesday morning and nearly kiss the ground. Harry was still playing two shows here but getting to go back home instead of a hotel room was enough to make us weep.

I didn’t really have a home to go back to. I’d been thinking about that a lot as the tour took us closer and closer to London. I had texted Gray yesterday and we agreed I could crash there until this weekend to get my stuff together.

London had a metaphorical grey fog over it in my mind. Nothing felt appealing about it and the only thing on my mind these days was home—my childhood home.

I already knew I was going to give in my resignation letter to Harry after tour but I had a 3 week period under contract. I don’t think I could afford a hotel for three weeks and staying with any of my friends is out of the question.

These thoughts kept me preoccupied.

It helped me not to think about that night though. I avoided Harry unless it was for work, returning to the solitude of my first few months working for him. He does the same: curt and avoidant. I know others notice but nobody dares to ask.

It was the most intense thing I’d done in my whole life and that was saying something. There was a way that Harry got under my skin that nobody else could. And it was hard to find a balance after the scales had shifted so far in that direction.

I felt like I had to block it out until I could have space to process it. And yet memories still seeped through when I was quiet for a moment too long or when he’d walk past me with the same cologne as that night and I’d catch a whiff. I was doubly sure this chapter had to close.

When I get back to the flat on Wednesday Gray has vanished as he promised. He told me he’d drop by that evening to talk. Surprisingly, I felt calm about it. I don’t know if it was getting all of that ferocious energy out that had been churning for months, but I feel level-headed and I appreciate the space to myself.

Gray texts me before he arrives. Like this wasn’t the flat he was now paying for alone.

I know what he wanted to talk about—we were all supposed to go to Harry’s last show at the o2 since I had tickets for everyone. Josie was stoked and based on the way she’s been texting me leading up to the day I don’t think she knew. Gray confirms it.

“So,” he rubs the back of his neck. He looked nice in a beanie and corduroy jacket. I wonder if any of the effort was for me, then vanish the thought.

“So,” I echo.

We stand awkwardly across from each other—him propping himself up behind the couch and me leaning against the dining table. Like we needed to get as much furniture between us. Like we hadn’t shared a bed a few weeks ago.

“We should sit?”

“Yeah,” he attempts a laugh and sits on the sofa. I choose the closest chair and turn it to face him. “Yeah. Um, I don’t know how you feel about Saturday. But I haven’t told Josie yet. I haven’t really told anyone.”

I nod, “Me too. Not really. People at work think we’re on a break.”

“Right. Good.” He says. “I’m not tryna lie to people but I don’t really want to get into it…”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “So Josie?”

“I’ll let her know once…once you move out?”

Move out. Of this flat. It’s been home for nearly 3 years.

Gray had surprised me with it when he found it—I had been broke and only been able to pitch in for utilities and groceries but he’d been gracious. He’d been supportive once. But I guess his support had boundaries too. I didn’t entirely blame him for that.

“Sounds good. Or later, maybe when she’s done her exams.”

He leans back on the couch, arms spread over the back and sighs as he studies me. “Yeah of course. I should’ve thought of that. You’re always good at that stuff. She’s gonna be gutted.”

I nod. Not sure what to say to that.

“So you’ll be out on Saturday yeah?” He asks after a while. It seemed both of us had a lot on our minds. But his question stings a little.

“Yep. I’m off for most of the week so I’ll just pack things up. Uhm, with Josie and whatnot I guess we’re still acting like a couple? Will that be weird?”

“Yeah. It will be but we’ve got no other option.”

“Right.” I respond. His voice grows an edge I’m not a fan of. “Well. Thanks for letting me stay here. If you need anything else I guess you can grab it now.”

I want to ask how he’s doing, who he’s staying with, and just hold his face one last time to really remember. But his cold apathy grows like frostbite over the room and creeps into my heart. I always thought where there was love there would always be love but I’m not as sure tonight.

I stay busy and when I can’t sleep at night; I map out a dream, an exit plan home. I write up my resignation letter, I look at flights and rentals and talk things out with my family, I cancel wedding and couple shit, and grieve a fair bit.

On Friday afternoon, my only formal shift this week, I head to Harry’s with an anxious weight in my chest and a buzz in my head from the hope. Hope that this chapter of my life could end soon, and I can head home and recuperate and plan out what my life was going to look like.

Harry’s on a call when I get in. He spares me a glance but I head to the office with my stack of mail. Today was mostly for some housekeeping/admin but I hope to avoid Harry for the most part like I’ve done since that night. My letter sits like a bar of gold in my bag.

I hear him move about the flat. I restock some pantry items, and we speak as little as possible. Going with him to his meeting was my final task for today so I decide it’s a good time to hand in my letter.

I find him sitting in the studio, tapping a pen against the table.

“Mr. Styles?”

“Hm?” He drags his eyes away from his screen to look at me.

“So we’re heading to your meeting in 10. Before then I just wanted to hand this in.”

The envelope stays outstretched in my hand and he eyes it, not taking it.

“What is that?”

“Can you just take it?” I shake it a little, like a bag of treats for a puppy.

His muscles move one inch every ten seconds, that’s how slow he is to sit up in his seat and finally take the letter from my hands. I almost let out a big sigh of relief. The process was finally in place.

“What is it?” He asks again, tearing the corner and down the side like he usually did.

I wait for him to unfold the thirds before answering, “my resignation letter.”

His eyes scan the sheet left to right right to left and when he looks up at me it’s hard to say what he’s thinking.

“Is this a joke?”

“No? Obviously not? I’m handing in my 3 weeks. I’ll also email a copy to Jeff and you.”

“Why are you doing this?” He stands, his tall frame rigid.

“Why? Because I’m…I’m quitting? I think I’ve learned everything I could here a-and it’s time to move on.”

By here I don’t mean working for Harry Styles and co but just here as in London. I’ve learned a fuck ton of life lessons here, and it was time to process them elsewhere.

“Is this to get back at me somehow? I don’t understand,” the papers crinkle in his fist as he grips it tighter. “Do you want a raise? Can we talk about this?”

“No.” I say and even though there’s so much more I could say I think that sums up my answer.

He looks puzzled, then annoyed. Just then my phone buzzes. The car was downstairs.

I grab my laptop and we head down. I was coming along to take minutes and then head home. In the car I reassure Harry,

“I plan on wrapping things up in the next three weeks and making sure everything is set up for an easy transition. I’ll leave continuity notes and reach out to people I regularly communicate with to break the news. The next couple months are pretty easy anyway coming out of tour and going on holiday so there should be plenty of time for the new PA, whoever your hire, to catch up.”

He doesn’t say a word. It reminds me of our first drive to the studio together. How naïve I was. How things changed.

He continues staring out the window, resting his face on his fist. I remember my teeth dragging over that jaw. I blink the image away; this was why I had to go.

When we get to Graham’s office Harry tells Jeff, “we don’t need minutes.”

Jeff looks over at me for answers and I shrug. I guess I came here for no reason but at least I had my laptop to work.

“Uh y/n please come i-“

“She’s fine working out there,” Harry cuts Graham off. Graham looks offended, his gaze drawing between Harry and I. Again, I shrug. I wasn’t leaving today I don’t know why he was acting like it.

For the next hour or so I sit at a spare cubicle and do just as I said in the car. I type out lists for upcoming interviews and studio days. I send emails for information to note for whoever the poor person was to replace me.

I had been keeping the Dos and Don’ts updated over the last year and it feels like a baby the way it came together with so much thought. I was almost sad to part with it.

Nobody tells me the meeting is over. The door simply opens and Harry breezes past.

“I’ll be in the car.” He mutters. Any faster and I would have to hold down the papers around me.

When he’s gone beyond sight, I turn back to the open door.

“What’s the matter with him?” I hear Graham asking inside.

“You keep pushing him,” Jeff responds with irritation. “That’s not his brand Graham.”

“Well that’s a different tune. Prior to this you were singing my praises with these new ideas.”

“I don’t know. Something’s been up with him for…a while-“

“Since that article isn’t it?” Graham references the Harry Styles slander when we were in Spain. Little did they know other things had also happened.

“We dealt with that article.”

Shit, I think. Has he been any different? I think I was keeping too much distance from him to notice.

“Y/n,” my name snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Mhm?” I’m beckoned to the meeting room. “Yes?”

“Find out what’s wrong with him. Or better yet just convince him to be a bit more alive at his last show tomorrow with his usual charm? He hasn’t been his full capacity the last few shows has he?”

Shit. “Um. Burnout?”

The two men look at each other. They make a face like that couldn’t possibly be why. I tell the men what they want to hear, that I’d try to find out and get him back to his charming self (yuck) before joining Harry in the car.

“Jeff and Graham aren’t all that happy with you,” I say when we start driving. Harry was giving me a lift home. “They’re insisting you do it right at your final tomorrow. Be your charming self.”

He grunts in response, head facing the window again. Was he allergic to look forward in the car or something?

“Are you coming?” He asks after a good ten minutes of silence.

“Tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

“Yeah. I gave my extra tickets to…my fiance,” my brain fumbles my words as it remembers what he was and now is. And the lie I had to keep up. “And his sister and her friend.”

He just nods in acknowledgement, somehow stonier.

When the car pulls up to my familiar building I thank his driver and begin my shimmy out but Harry puts a hand to my knee to stop me. His touch sears right through my stockings and he must feel it too because he slides his hand back.

“Answer this,” he looks at me for the first time tonight. Wow, this really did feel like my first week on the job.

“Sure,” I reply.

“Is it because of that night?”

It’s the first time it’s been mentioned, and his gaze burns brighter than a forest fire. It’s mesmerizing and I can’t look away.

Wait, he wanted an answer.

“It’s because of a lot of things,” I answer truthfully.

He clenches his jaw. Leans back in his seat. The seatbelt reverses to hold him in place again and he’s no longer looking at me. I take that as my cue to go.

***

Josie bursts into the flat dressed to the nines in a groovy floral jumpsuit and boas in her hand. “Don’t worry. I have one for each of us.”

Her friend trails behind her in an equally 70s inspired look.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Josie judges her brother’s hoodie and jeans. “You’re lowering the vibe Gray do better. Y/n? Why didn’t you brief him?”

“I did!” I eye Gray. “Don’t blame me.”

This was way more awkward than I thought. Or I really was not as good of an actress as I wished.

“What am I supposed to wear?” Gray asks. “I’m not wearing a jumpsuit.”

Josie rolls her eyes. “Y/n please drag him back and find a decent tee or something?”

“Yes ma’am,” I take Gray by the arm and take him back.

“This is kinda weird hey?” I whisper when we close the door.

“I don’t really like it either,” Gray scratches his head. “But it’s for the best.”

I nod and then louder announce, “Well it’s Jo’s night so find something a tad more retro?”

We end up with a red tee and find a belt to tie the look. Josie hugs her brother with thanks when she sees it.

I had on a pair of black bellbottoms paired with a blank tank. My hair was in spacebuns and Josie plucks a few boa feathers to accessorize my hair. It’s cute.

We head off and I have to make a conscious effort to remember my mannerisms with Gray before all this. I feel woozy while I slide my hand into his on the ride there, as Josie snaps our pics on her disposable, as she tells us to get one of us where Gray’s kissing my cheek and she’ll save it to show our kids. It makes me sick.

He keeps an arm on my waist as we walk. I want this night to be over so bad but every time I look Josie’s way I perk back up a little. I wanted her to enjoy this.

And she does. I’m sure she’s lost her voice by the end of the concert. At one point we drift away a little and breathe easier to drop the act but when she’s back Gray wraps his arms around me from behind and we act like a happy couple. Again, I felt sick.

Being in Gray’s arms held none of the spark it used to. I just feel awkward and sad.

At one point Harry looks my way, I don’t know how he spotted me in such a big crowd. It’s between songs and he looks at the group I’m with. I give a pathetic wave and he nods ever so slightly, his gaze sliding off soon after. Gray’s arm tightens around my shoulder and my heart gives a squeeze in response. I’m reminded: this era was ending.

The band told me to meet them backstage at the end, to join in on the final-show celebration. Josie and Gray would wait at a local pub and with the way Josie’s Instagram stories were glowing I could imagine her sitting there uploading it all.

“I couldn’t have done it without any of you,” I catch Harry saying as I slip behind stage with my pass. “I know I’ve not been the easiest to be with but you all sit in my heart. This is our Euro tour, concluded.”

Somebody pops bubbly and I congratulate the whole team as they drink. They insist on going out for proper drinks and I’m denied not going. They tell me to invite my guests to party with them and I know, based on where we were going, Josie was going to flip.

Juniper, a club that gets us all in on Harry’s face card, is opulent and lively on the inside. Josie is buzzing about with her friend—Gray had opted to go home, claiming he had early morning sessions. Josie didn’t think twice about him, but we pretended to go back and forth with a final warning from Gray to Josie to behave.

“He’s a broody one,” Charlie comments on Gray as we chatter while we get drinks. “Sister?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t know yet though so,” I put my finger to my lip.

“So no Barcelona dancing tonight?” Sarah teases. I laugh and tell them to keep me tamed. “We gotta do some shots with the team though where is everyone?”

We gaze around the room and manage to get everyone together. After one round of shots and another that Harry forced on all of us I feel the tension I’ve been carrying with me most days slide away.

We end up sticking together as a group and dance together, laughing and cheering each other on. Even Harry’s in a cheery mood—I suspect the alcohol. I catch him watching me at one point and when I raise my brow he takes my hand and spins me in a friendly twirl. I trip on my wide-legged pants and he catches me from behind. With my back to his chest I have the urge to turn around and kiss him and feel the peculiar comfort I had received from him before. That thought drives me away from him again. Despite the tight knit group there’s too much between us to even attempt being close.

I call it quits when Josie finds me and announces she was going home. I hug the newfound family I had made over the last few months one final goodbye, knowing I might never see them together like this again.

***

Jeff’s reaction to my news surprises me the most. He’s visibly upset and tries to sell me anything to stay. I tell him there was nothing to keep me at my job but I would rely on him for a good reference. I think it’s the first time he’s ever reassured me.

Between Harry and I it remains curt. Sometimes even edgy. I post my own job replacement and Jeff keeps me updated on potential candidates. By the time my last week rolls around I’m host to a roil of emotions.

The first week homeless, Charlie had let me crash on her couch and promised not to say a word to anyone. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome and so I had checked into a hotel and called it home for now.

I’m on my way back home to the hotel after being at Gray’s. We’d invited Josie over for dinner now that her exams were over and she’d been suspicious from the start.

We had told her the truth and she refused to believe it, hurt and betrayal in her eyes as she looked at me and realized she had been kept in the dark for the last week. I felt worse then, than I did when Gray and I called it quits.

I promised her a lunch together this week to talk more. Just because I was out of Gray’s life didn’t mean I had to be out of hers. I thought I could also tell her then that I was leaving to go back home.

On my second last day at work, Harry sends me on an errand near the end of the day. When I get back there’s a small group of friendly and familiar faces waiting to surprise me. I’m touched by the gesture, and I try to corner Harry to say thank you but it feels he avoids me at every chance, always in a larger crowd.

I finally catch him while I’m heading out of the bathroom and he’s heading down the hall.

“Oh hey,” I step in his way. He looks cornered. “I just wanted to say thanks for throwing this.”

“Yeah,” he gestures it was nothing. “It was Jeff’s idea.”

Ouch. I hide the sting. “Well. Thanks regardless.”

He nods, staying mute, but his eyes speak a thousand words—just none that I can read. They stay trained on me, communicating whatever.

Slowly the furrow between his brows eases and the sharp edges of his face give way to a softened expression. I’m scared to move in case I break the trance and don’t get to hear whatever his racing thoughts spit out. Just when it looks like he’s about to say something, a guest turns the corner up the hall.

“Anyone in the toilet?” It was Mitch. Damnit.

“Nope,” I step out of the way, inadvertently brushing Harry. A shiver runs up my spine and I try to act casual but he stiffens beside me. Was it that awful being around me, jeez.

I give up. If he wanted to continue staying moody, so be it. I leave to go back to the party and don’t look back.

My final days in London are hard. The same way I arrived, I go: alone and unsure of what’s ahead.

I always thought here was where I would stay forever. And maybe one day I would return but there was a little too much friction between me and the Capital.

I finish work on an unremarkable note after going through processes with the new hire, and dotting all of my i’s. Harry is nowhere to be seen and I’m gone before he gets back. I’m frustrated that he’s behaving this way but there’s also too much between us for the simple goodbye I yearn for.

I visit all of my old favourites, have one last drink at my old local pub somewhere in between Gray’s flat and Harry’s. I shed a lot of tears on my pilgrimage through the city’s veins. I promise the paved and cobblestone roads I would be back one day.

The walls of my lungs ease open on the flight home. Still, tears cascade down my face silently as the plane sleeps. Eventually I do too. When I wake the sky is filled with bright blinding sunrise, and American soil peeks out below me: I was finally home.

••••••••••••••••••••

Present (2 years on):

My heart flutters seeing Harry here, I chalk it up to anxiety. But it annoys me that despite all the distance and the growth, he still had an effect on me.

Harry’s head turns and before I can be smart about it our eyes lock. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly before his face falls into a nonchalant facade again. I don’t even want to know what my face looked like.

Then he gets the nerve to smirk, hang his head, and then grab his drink and walk towards me.

“If I had a cross I would be holding it up right now.” I have to shout a little so he hears me before he gets to me. He was an emotional vampire feeding on all of mine.

“Now why’s that?” He continues towards me. My emotions swirl through me. “I thought time heals all wounds. Why the unfriendly welcome Mrs. Duran?”

I grit my teeth at the name, he was still filled with poison. “Right, the timeless wisdom of clichés.”

“I like to think I’m pretty timeless.” He smiles.

“I’ve found that time may heal wounds, but scars make sure you never forget.”

“Well, scars aside, you look good,” he moves on and I feel like an idiot the way I was used to feeling around him.

“Of course I do.”

“What are you doing in London? Last I checked I was getting a reference check from America.”

I debate not answering him but I was trying to straddle the line between indifference and confidence. It was like walking a tightrope.

“I’m in London for a little while,” I give vaguely.

“Ah,” he smiles and damnit I forgot how handsome he could be. How handsome could then turn into seductive so quickly. I had to remember: Still a devil. “Are you looking for a new employer? Because I could be hiri-“

“No.” I cut him off. “I finally have a job I love so I’m good.”

Something flickers in his eyes but surprisingly he stays quiet.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. I sort of wish I still had a drink in my hand, they feel awkward and clunky and I want to avoid playing with my hair. Gah. “Global star drinks alone at his local bar?”

He laughs but I can tell I hit a minor nerve. “Here I’m just a local. Always have been—it’s nice to be anonymous for a little bit.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t believe that for a second. He loved his fame and everything that came with it.

Plus I used to come here all the time, I would’ve known if my employer was a local too. He was lying for some reason.

“Mr. Styles if there’s one thing I remember about you, you’d choose death over anonymity.”

“Firstly,” he leans in and I get a whiff of his usual cologne with a hint of malt. “A person can change a lot. So maybe you don’t know me as much as you think you do-“

“Oh I don’t think anyone can change that drastically in only a year-“

“You seemed to have.”

His words take mine out of my mouth. I hadn’t changed, not really. I’d always been this y/n but the further I got away from him the more reassured I had gotten being that y/n.

“And secondly,” he continues before I could think of a response. “You no longer work for me. Harry is fine.”

The smile he throws me is almost sweet if I didn’t know the cruelty that could hide underneath. I don’t return the smile, I only raise my brow and look back down at my phone. My cell service hasn’t gotten any better and I’d missed the wifi password.

I could connect to Harry’s wifi, ask him so that I could order an uber.

I’d rather van gogh my ear.

I weigh all my options and consider the last one again. I look up to see what Harry was doing in the silence and find him looking at me. A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes clash. So much history and words unspoken fall in between. A very specific night flashes through my mind. I wonder if it does him because he looks down first. Damn.

“So I’ve gotta get going,” I say.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He says at the same time.

He laughs awkwardly and repeats, “One drink?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not drinking buddies.” I pull my purse to my chest, wanting to hop off this stool and run home if I need to. Put as much distance between myself and this man that was put on this earth to confuse me.

“Then what are we y/n?” He asks, his voice silky smooth as he leans in. The voice that whispered sweet nothings into my ear in my worst nightmares, nightmares of cotton sheets and heated limbs, of passion and shame.

“Ex-employer,” I point to him. I point to myself, “Ex-employee.”

“Exes have drinks together,” he grins full well knowing the double meaning.

“Never ends well,” I eye the door.

“Just as stubborn as I remember.”

“And you were saying people change?” I raise my brow.

He drops the smile and sighs, “I’m not gonna be able to convince ya am I?”

I shake my head. He should know that by now.

“Can I walk you out at least?”

I shrug, couldn’t hurt.

“What is this?” I ask as he opens the door for me.

“What?”

“This? Why are you trying to be so friendly?”

“I thought we could be friendly exes.”

And when did he get so cheeky.

“Something weird is going on,” I watch him stay in step with me as I walk up. With no service I was going to take the tube. “And I don’t like it.”

“Nothing weird is going on don’t get all paranoid on me.”

“Don’t call me paranoid! You never call a woman paranoid.”

“I thought that was conspiracy theorists?”

“Nooo. You’re being weird.”

"Alright, no need to get all Freudian on me. Just trying to be a decent human here."

I shake my head, somehow in our exchange my face had decided it was okay to smile. To forget what he put me through and remember instead that when things were good between us we actually got along.

Damnit. The devil knew how to play tricks. I wipe the smile off my face while he continues walking with me.

“So…what have you been up to?” He asks.

“Working, you know me.” I say after trying to figure out what his angle was but unable to find one.

“Oretta Smith I hear, how did you manage that?”

“I’m just that good Harry,” I say. His name is weird in my mouth. Sure I called him that in my head but I usually used Mr. Styles. I can tell he feels the same with his quick glance my way.

“How do you like that?”

“Yeah, she’s a great employer like I said. Very professional. Lots of flexibility.” Each praise is a knock to his ego. But it was all true, plus with Winnie joining the team I had a friend my age that felt great.

But there was also a darker side called burnout that I barely admitted to myself. Ever since we landed in London and I had time to orient my new self in a city that molded my old self, I felt the familiar singe of purposeless. But I keep it to myself of course.

“Great.” Harry responds curtly. “What about yourself? How’s your life, are you finally married?”

My instinct is to raise my defences and chew him out, he must know Gray and I were done what with me living in the States.

And yet, when I peer past the defences and take a long hard look at him I realize he is asking earnestly and without another angle.

We’re nearing the tube now. I hesitate in lying or telling the truth.

“We broke up,” I choose to confess. I peek at him and he looks surprised, even sorry.

“I didn’t know. Sorry.”

“I’d hope not,” I reply. “Otherwise you’d be an asshole calling me Mrs. Duran.”

He huffs an awkward laugh.

“Anyway this is me—

“I can give you a ride home—wherever that is right now?” He asks.

We’re stood in front of the glass doors. There’s not a lot of people this time of night. And as tempting as his offer was, the way he looks at me right now sends poisonous butterflies to my stomach and I think it’s best I get home for the big day tomorrow and not make any regrets.

“I’m not too far,” I lie. I point a thumb to the doors behind me. “I’m just gonna…”

“Yeah. Yeah right.” He’s awkward, which is a first. He clears his throat and stuffs his hand into his pocket. I watch him with a removed sort of curiosity. Eventually he coughs out his question. “How long are you in London for?”

“A few weeks,” I reply.

He finally meets my eyes again—and there goes my stomach. He was supposed to have zero effect on me, I was supposed to stay mad at him. Why was my body betraying me? Why did it continue to loop memories from that night and remind me of the things he whispered in the dark?

“A few weeks,” he murmurs back.

His gaze travels over my face openly, no longer holding back the barely-hidden expressions from before. Because I told him Gray and I weren’t a thing? Because I was entertaining whatever bullshit this was?

“Yep,” I nod. Awkward. Nervous. Cautious.

“My number’s the same,” his eyes snap back to mine. “If you want to go for that drink later.”

“Harry,” I try to break it to him another way. I wish I could just say I never want that drink. “I don’t think-“

“Don’t think,” he cuts me off. He laughs when I furrow my brows. “I mean, I’m right here for most of the next few weeks. When you feel like you want to have that drink just give me a call. Or text.”

Why, I want to ask him. Why, after all this time, after everything that happened? And it’s like he reads my mind in the silence.

“I know you left on a pretty poor note.” He shuffles his feet. “I know a lot of that was my fault. I apologize for that. Um, but I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and…you are missed. Even Jeff remembers you fondly. Which is saying something.”

This was some sort of prank. Or Harry had gotten so famous he now had a doppelgänger roaming the streets as him. It couldn’t be that Harry, my Harry, would say something so sentimental and so…genuine.

“So uh yeah, I would love to see you again while you’re in town.” He says when I don’t respond.

“Right.” I choke out.

He shrugs when I can’t bring myself to say anything more. “We do change, whether you believe it or not y/n.”

I swallow, hoping to lubricate my vocal cords and find my voice. “I-I really do have to go.”

Crestfallen, he nods. His hand comes up to touch my elbow. “Yeah ‘course. Just…think about it?”

I look down at his hand and he lets go, we stay in another bubble of silence. His eyes flicker down to my lips and I feel a wave of warmth as I try not to do the same.

“Goodnight,” I blurt and get to the other side of the glass doors. He watches me go.

On the escalator down I risk a glance back and he’s still there, watching until I’m out of sight. That ended incredibly awkward.

Leave it up to Harry to confuse me in coming back into my life. Damn him, he could never be consistent.

***

Waking up super early to catch the train out to Cambridge is so worth it because I get to watch Josie walk the stage and graduate with distinction wearing her famous smile that beams over the vast room.

Despite what happened with Gray and I, Josie and I have kept in touch steadily over the last year. It started as weekly facetimes which reduced down to monthly calls and have now become a steady stream of texts and memes swapped back and forth.

When she found out I’d be in London around her graduation dates she gave me no choice but to show up, sending me a ticket without asking.

I knew I’d see Gray, and a part of me was nervous and curious how that was going to go. But mostly I was grateful to still be in Josie’s life and spend time with her in person. She was the part of this life I missed most.

I’m sat somewhere in the middle of the room and Josie was smart enough not to seat me with the rest of her guests. But I know I would see everyone during photos and the dinner we were having later on. I try keep my focus on the ceremony however.

“Y/N!” Josie rushes towards me when she sees me after the ceremony. The group she departs from I recognize is a mix of her girl friends, her family, and a few others.

“Josie!” I return the same energy and she leaps into my arms. I squeeze her tight to me. “I’m soo proud of you my girl.”

We sway side to side, until we get enough hug.

“Look at you!” She exclaims when she leans back. “Your hair looks amazing and you are glowing. Please tell me you have a boy in your life.”

“No,” I laugh.

“A girl?” She asks hesitantly.

“No! I’m just…happy where I am right now! How about you look at you! You look phenomenal as per.”

“Oh thanks,” she takes the compliment and giggles. “I asked my dad to grad gift me a salon and spa visit so I am rejuvenated and blown out.”

“Aren’t you ever,” I touch a lock of her hair. “Congratulations.”

“Eek!” She squeals. “Finally finished this hellscape! I can’t wait to never write an exam again—ooh wait I want you to meet my boy…”

“So that’s why we’re actually glowing,” I tease as she tugs me towards the group. That definitely has Gray. My stomach drops the closer we get, he doesn’t seem to notice. He looks busy talking to one of Josie’s friends.

“Anyway,” she deposits me in front of a 6 foot something guy made of angles. “This is Jax. My boyfriend. We met during a Friendsgiving Myles threw last year.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jax smiles. “Y/N right?”

“Yes!”

“I was supposed to get around to that,” Josie huffs.

“Sorry she talked about you a lot when she found out you were coming. She was really excited.”

“Ugh,” she turns to me like she was embarrassed but her face is glowing. Josie was in looove.

“You two are so cute,” I tease which just makes Josie blush a little harder. “So are we getting any pictures?”

“Oh yeah,” Jax swivels his head. “Liliya has the good camera if you want to get-“

“Oh we can use our phones,” Josie cuts him off.

“No get the high res one—Liliya, camera?” Jax motions a shuttering action to the friend Gray was talking to. He’s so tall above the crowd that both look up at him and comply.

“Y/N,” Josie drags my arms back and takes me on the outskirt of the crowd. “I’m so sorry I never mentioned because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did tell you but you-“

“Y/N?”

Josie’s rushed whispers are cut short when Gray notices me and calls my name. He looks stupefied. I spare a glance to Josie and she’s paled.

She didn’t tell him.

“Hey,” I force a friendly tone. I was going to kill that girl.

“Did you all want a photo?” Josie’s friend Liliya shoulders her way back into the circle with the camera on a strap. She turns to Gray, “Babe?”

It’s an odd sensation, like all oxygen has left my lungs and they’re being squeezed as if tightened in a vice. Gray’s eyes drag away from me to his…girlfriend? Definitely not Josie’s friend.

It shakes me in the moment how much I realize I still cared, still carried a shred of hope for…something. And not consciously knowing this makes this moment feel a little like a slap in the face.

What did I think? I was going to leave this country for a year and people were going to pause where I last left them? Of course Gray’s moved on. Aside from the end he was a great partner and anybody would want that.

These thoughts race through my head in the few seconds Gray responds to his girlfriend and I look at Josie. She looks guilty as charged.

“I tried to tell you just now?” She whispers.

Deep breaths, I remind myself. You’re not the hot-headed y/n these people knew last. This day is not about you. It’s about Josie.

“It’s cool. Let’s get some photos,” I smile. “Don’t want to miss having them with you.”

She sighs but keeps her eyes on my face as we walk farther out.

“I am really sorry,” she whispers.

“Hey it’s alright,” I lie. This was the worst of it—Gray had moved on, had a great girlfriend, and I was living the life I wanted. No harm and no foul. “Honestly Jo I get it, you wanted me here reallllly bad.”

“I did!” She says. “But I’m also gonna kill Jax.”

I laugh and we straighten up when we realize the camera was already pointed at us. Josie flashes her degree and a few of her friends join the pictures too. We hustle back to Gray to see them and flipping back on the first few makes my breath catch in my throat. There’s one in particular where Josie is turned to me talking and my mouth is in a big grin because I’m laughing.

I catch eyes with Gray in an uncomfortably intimate second.

“Send me that one for sure wow Gray that’s a really good shot.”

“Oh wow,” his girlfriend peers over. “That’s a great candid.”

“Yeah,” I agree. I’d love a copy too. And of course that’s when Gray’s girlfriend notices me and introduces herself.

“I don’t think we’ve met—is that an American accent I detect?”

“It is,” I smile. “I’m Y/N.”

“Oh!” Two spots of pink appear on her face. It seems she’s heard of me. “Well it’s nice to meet you—nice that Josie invited you! I’m Liliya but Lily works too.”

“C’mon!” Josie interrupts the awkward by grabbing her brother’s arm and pushes him in the direction of where her friends are posing for photos. He takes some shots but Josie hates the look of them and gives the camera to Lily instead.

With just Gray and I left behind it grows very awkward.

“I thought Josie told everyone I would be-“ I say just as he says, “I didn’t realize you would be-“

We stop and chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” I shake my head.

“No,” he shrugs. “It’s cool. It’s cool you’re here actually.”

“Okay,” is all I can say. Until the awkward silence stretches. “So…Liliya?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Liliya. You?”

I want to lie, but I shake my head. “No. Sorta needed the year to breathe a little.”

“Fair. How’s America?”

“Oh y’know, still super-sized and politically a guessing game.”

“Have you turned on our news while you’ve been down at all?” He raises a brow. I laugh because he was right. It was all a shitshow everywhere.

He asks me about my family as Josie jogs up to us.

“Okay, tell me the truth is my hair going flat?”

“No,” I look behind her where her friends are hovering over Lily and the camera going over their photos.

“Good. Where’s mum and dad?” Josie asks Gray. “Dad was just here 10 minutes ago he said he’d come by for—oh there’s mum! Look!”

We turn to where she points. Michelle—what I’ve always called Gray’s mom, spots her daughter at the same time and waves. She starts to walk towards us.

It’s nice to see her but I also feel a bit nervous; going cold turkey on relationships you only had because of an ex are always weird to come back to. Especially ones you were fond of.

“Mum! You’re missing all the pictures!” Josie says. “Where’ve you been!?”

“I just saw somebody I knew back from my first job as a librarian can you believe that?” Michelle says as she joins the group.

“Crazy. Well mum look who got to show up today! Isn’t that crazy too?”

Michelle looks at me and the bright smile that was intended for her daughter dies like a flower in overnight frost. The look wipes the anticipation off my face.

“Who?”

That one word shades the sun from the sky and brings forth a gust of western winds through the group.

“Mum,” Josie look between me, her mum, and Gray. She’s confused. “Y/N?”

“Hey Michelle,” I croak. Maybe my hair was too different for her to recognize me, or maybe she had early onset alzheimers. Surely this woman who I’ve had a better relationship with than her own son has wouldn’t be treating me like your worst frenemy at your high school reunion.

But Michelle looks right through me. I can’t explain how it feels, not in the moment. I’m gutted, and feel an unexplainable wave of sadness.

“Mum…” Josie sounds hurt and Gray finally decides to swoop in.

“Mum let’s check out the photos we took already. We gotta get some of the three of us.”

They walk away and I feel seven inches tall but I turn to Josie with a brave face and face her teary one.

“That was kind of awkward,” I downplay.

“Y/N I’m honestly so sorry I-,” Josie blinks rapidly.

“No it’s ok!”

“I don’t know why she acted like that-“

“Hey It’s natural for her to feel that way I’m alright don’t get upset-“

“It’s not alright though! That was such a…she never acts like that.”

It was true. Michelle was a free-spirit as she called herself. That’s why Gray had such a hard relationship with her; in his words, she was too emotional and ungrounded for him.

Yet apparently, she was able to find enough ground to stand on when it came to treating me like a nobody. I wonder if it’s because she heard Gray’s biased side of the story or she was hurt herself—still, the way she’s always talked about herself never struck me as someone who would believe a one-sided story. Or be a bitch to someone they previously called their daughter. It hurt like a mofo.

I didn’t want Josie to find out this way, here of all places, that her mom was just human after all. She idolized that woman.

So even though it hurt, I comfort her instead.

“She probably just feels betrayed by me leaving and stuff since we were close too. Imagine if Jax broke up with you and she gave him the cold shoulder—wouldn’t you feel justified?”

Josie scrunches her brows to think about the simplified story I’ve just fed her to feel better. I can tell it still doesn’t sit well with her but she nods in acceptance, “I guess.”

“Yeah, just forget it Josie. Plus you’ve got pictures to take so dry those eyes.”

“Shit I know,” she blinks some more. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to invite you here and twist the knife at every bloody turn.”

“Jo I’m honoured to get to be here and see all your hard work pay off. Don’t worry about anything else.”

“It’s unfair,” she says before she drifts to her group of friends. “I feel like nobody understands how…how understanding you are. But I’m really glad we’re still in touch. And you came for me.”

Her words bring tears to my eyes and I nod, afraid that talking would bring them forward. I watch her crash her group and start instructing photo coordination. I help hold things for people while they take photos and feel like a stranger outside the crowd. If it weren’t for Josie, I think I would have regretted coming here. I feel homesick and unwanted. A tough combo.

I was supposed to crash on someone’s couch tonight and do brunch with Josie tomorrow before going back to London but from the last half hour alone I know I’m going back to the city no matter how late it gets tonight. I think of the hotel room that was home right now, of how lonely that was going to feel to go back to too.

Home right now was in America, in the same time zone as my family, and comfortable in my shared apartment with one of my high school best friends who I reconnected with after going back home. I miss it so bad. And I feel like I’ve bitten into an unripe fruit coming back to the UK before I was ready apparently. My experience feels soured.

I shake off the doom and gloom when the party breaks. We were all going to meet at the restaurant at 6–my plan was to explore the university city and find a place to kill some time in. Maybe go outside to a park with lunch. Josie tries to convince me to join her and her friends for their mid-day celebration but I lie and tell her I had some work to do.

I call Winnie on my stroll through the city. I insist she update me on last night first, and she has more to tell—the guy had a yacht and he was inviting her to a party tonight. She tells me to join if I came back early and we cross our fingers that Oretta wouldn’t need her before then.

I originally called her to rant about Michelle and Gray but I don’t, I didn’t want to kill her vibe. So I scroll through my other contacts but don’t want to worry my mom and it was too early back home to reach anyone else.

My eyes catch on Harry’s name, he was at the top of my texts currently because he sent me a link this afternoon asking me for thoughts on it. I hadn’t opened it yet, I wasn’t sure what to think about this new persona he was wearing or that he thought yesterday’s run-in went okay enough to casually message me for my thoughts.

I remember the weird electricity of yesterday and shove my phone back into my pocket.

He genuinely wanted to have a drink? And talk??

I did enjoy having you around. You were excellent at your job and you are missed.

Was he trying to make up for his cruel words? But he also seemed a lot more mellow than before. Maybe that was just because I didn’t work for him. What did he want? And was I twisted for believing the new schtick?

Most curious of all was him at the pub in the first place. He was not a local there—that was a big lie.

I try to conjure up my previous hatred, calling him the Devil in my head. But it’s harder to do. Seeing him yesterday, he was just a man standing in front of a woman with a head full of cautionary tales and bad experiences.

Without warning images from that night come back and I feel my heart flutter. I shut them down just as quick. Not all bad, my body tries to remind me. I tell it to shut up.

I’ve barely stepped foot in this country again and already my mind was running circles around my heart. How exhausting.

***

I’m early to the restaurant, before anyone else apparently. As the hostess finds my name on her floor plan Josie comes in behind me with Jax.

“Oh! Y/n you’re early!” She seems flustered.

“Yeah I didn’t think I would be,” it was only a few minutes to 6.

We make small talk while we’re led to the table, Josie’s eyes keep darting to where our table might be.

“Sorry I was hoping to do this before you came,” she says when we get there. There are name cards along the 7 seats and she picks the one in front of me. “I’m just gonna move mum to my other side so it doesn’t get weird. Which means she’ll be closer to dad but…I think he’s bailing since his girlfriend doesn’t want to do this.”

Josie shrugs, I know how she feels about her dad’s girlfriend. She begins explaining the plans she has to do dinner with her dad later this week and the more she talks the more I can tell that she feels awkward. And I hate that it’s because of me. At one point Jax and I catch eyes and pass an awkward smile.

“Josie,” I walk up to her fiddling with the name tags. She stops talking immediately. I grip her shoulders. “Thanks.”

“Sorry,” she whispers. I wrap my arms around her and she melts into me.

“Stop apologizing.”

“Sorry. I can’t help it. It’s a disease.”

We let go with a laugh and she seems more stable. “This is going to be fine.”

Famous last words.

It’s definitely not fine and very awkward. Jax ends up sitting in front of me, and even though Liliya’s name tag was beside mine it’s suddenly swapped as they slide in and Gray sits beside me. I guess it might be too awkward for her but not awkward enough to fit someone we both dated between us.

I can sense Michelle’s pinched face as she notices us sitting beside each other and I feel badly for Josie the most as she tries to play the gracious host. At one point I sense Jax laying a hand on her arm and taking over, asking Michelle questions about her yoga and getting her talking.

“Did you need more?” Gray turns to me with the wine bottle, it’s the second thing he’s said to me tonight. Otherwise he mostly just watches me talk and leans back enough when others are talking so I can be involved.

“I’m okay,” I whisper. I didn’t want to draw any attention while Michelle was talking. She hadn’t said a peep to me, even when Josie tried to involve us both in a shared memory. She continued acting like I was Casper the ghost.

I can feel Lily’s eyes on us as Gray offers wine, of course they would be. No wonder Gray barely spoke to me all night. Fuck me, what was I doing here.

Jax is a sweetheart, asking me about my job and encouraging conversation between the both of us. I’m so happy for Josie that she found a partner like him.

By the time dinner is over I mostly want to cry. I feel spent. But I also feel like I crashed an intimate dinner and everyone’s polite enough not to mention it. Despite Josie, I do actually regret coming.

As we pay the bill and shuffle out, Josie grabs my arm.

“So I have two friends where you can crash at their place or Jax can sleep over at mine and you can sleep at his or-“

“I think I’m gonna head back to the city.”

Her face falls. But it’s like she knew I was going to say that.

“Sorry Jo. I think you should come to the city next week—maybe visit your brother? And while you’re down we’ll do brunch then. I’m mostly free while I’m here. I’m just pretty tired and have to help Winnie with something tomorrow.”

“Really?” She says in the smallest voice I’ve heard out of her. Salt to my wounds.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I know we were looking forward to getting time together.”

She juts out her lip and I’m reminded of the girl I met when I first started dating Gray. How she’d taken to me so quickly. How the whole family had. How things could end up like this.

And suddenly I see the future laid out in front of me. After tonight it would be hard to keep this relationship going—Josie and I. She’s just seen her mom be an unreasonable bitch for the first time, I can tell she’s been trying to compensate all night but the cracks won’t go away. It’ll always be a sitting duck between us.

We might try to stay in touch, maybe I’d reach out if I was ever in London or if she ever visited the west coast. But this would fizzle out.

She was still young and naive enough that her mom hung the moon and stars; mom’s beliefs were gospel, her opinions were rulings, and she’d just delivered my ultimate sentence: I was a black sheep to the family. How could sweet Josie walk through a mess like that?

“I’m so proud of you,” I tell her as I fight tears. “Congratulations again and thank you for inviting me.”

“Thanks. And you don’t have to be so nice. I know it was kind of a shitty invite.”

“No,” I insist. “I loved being here. I don’t regret showing up for you. I can’t wait to hear what you get up to.”

“I’m going to make sure to make it to the city next week,” she squeezes my arm. “We’ll see each other soon.”

“Exactly,” I look over at the rest of the group, where her boyfriend waits for her. Her family. “And I really like Jax, so good on you for that.”

“He…” she twists her lips, swallowing what she was going to say before vomiting it out. “I always aspired to have a relationship like yours and Gray’s. I never wanted to settle for anything less so that’s…that’s why Jax.”

“Hm I think you made us the bar and you leapt over it babe,” I wrap my arms around her again. I ache with the loss of what we used to be.

“See you soon,” she says before she drags herself back to the group.

I stand off to the side, awkwardly ordering an Uber. The group begins to walk the opposite way waving bye to me. I breathe easier without the weight of them around.

As I tap my foot in anticipation of the ride to the station arriving, I feel a hand tap my shoulder.

“Y/n,” it’s Gray. “Hey I…I just wanted to say something before you left.”

“Oh. Hey yeah. Shoot.”

What was it with everyone wanting to say something to me.

“Uh…ok give me a minute,” he laughs in the way I know to mean he was feeling nervous. “I just sort of jogged back impulsively.”

“Yeah well you have,” I glance at my phone. “4 or so minutes.”

“Damn,” he ruffles his hair. “Alright. I think I just wanna say sorry.”

“Oh.” That was it. Everyone had something to say to me and the something was apparently sorry.

“Yeah I’m sorry. I…when we broke up I was so upset and caught up in my own head. I blamed you for everything. I think it only hit me when you just up and moved out of the country how things actually went down.”

I hadn’t told anyone but Josie that I was leaving.

“Yeah you were just like gone.” He continues. “I guess a part of me thought we’d get some space, maybe circle back later…”

“You really betrayed me,” I remind him.

But even I know what he means. He hurt me bad and it might be crazy stupid but on some level we were both aware we were in an ugly place and maybe with some space we might come back to the place that was good for us again. Maybe bump into each other one day, strike up a conversation, find there might still be a small amount of love left. Enough to water and grow again.

“I know,” he sighs. “I know. I hate that I hurt you like that. I regret…I actually don’t really hang out with that group of friends as much anymore. I sorta have myself to blame but I didn’t like who I was with them.”

I listen, letting him speak. It hurt too, knowing this was the Grayson I had fallen in love with. Kind and supportive, and now apparently he’s learned to communicate. Maybe that was a Lily thing.

“I guess,” he blows the air out of his cheeks. “I want to say I’m really truly sorry. I missed you a lot after you left. Nothing was the same and life was fucking hard. I wish things didn’t end the way they did and I stayed mature but I was just jealous and angry.”

I nod to acknowledge what he’s saying and watch him take a breath to continue.

“And I always appreciated how you never let us shake your relationship with my sister because she bloody loves you—I don’t think how mum treated you was right today but I never really understood her in the first place. I’m sorry about that.”

“Yeah,” is all I can manage without making it obvious how emotional this was all making me. How one year could make me feel like a completely different person. How this man I loved, and still love in some way, could stand in front of me talking about us as something in the past. Because we were. Long past.

My phone dings with a notification that my ride would be here. We glance down and out into the street.

“Anyway,” he swallows. “I just wanna apologize. And say I genuinely hope you find love y/n. Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are. I hope you can forgive me one day. And I hope you’re successful as hell in whatever you pour yourself into.”

“Thank you Gray,” I want to say I was sorry too. For what it was worth. But my car pulls to the curb.

I wave at the driver to let them know I’d ordered it and we walk the few feet to the back door.

I face Gray and open my mouth to say it. Say something more: how I appreciated his words, how I was sorry for how things ended too, how I hope he is happy. But nothing comes out of my mouth. I just stare at him, my eyes welling with tears instead.

Gray holds out his hand and I look down at it. I knew those hands well and it’s like walking into a place you used to frequent in the past and have memories rush towards you as you remember: those hands held me and wrapped around my own and comforted me, they made me food and stroked my hair, and carried my bags when they got too heavy. They once wore an engagement band I gifted, they once held a small box with a life-changing question I had said yes to.

Now it was just a hand.

I clasp it and he squeezes.

“I know,” he says, his eyes trained on my watery ones. He squeezes again and lets go.

I rush into the car, those two words nearly cracking me in half. I wave goodbye through the tinted window and feel a wave of despair that pulls me down into the depths of darkness.

Too much was happening at once.

My emotions spiral out of me and I feel alone in this foreign country; I needed comfort where none could be found.

I don’t mean to. Or maybe I do. But on the train back to London I text Harry: is it too early to cash in on the drink?

His response is immediate: no, I was waiting for this text last night

I smile, despite myself.

Can I come over? I text with shaking hands.

H: For drinks?

Y: For drinks

H: Ofc.

***

The taxi drops me in front of the familiar building. I feel an echo of anxiety pierce through me as I go through the familiar doors. I nod at the concierge, the night replacement was new and I’m grateful nobody can recognize me making this potentially stupid decision.

For a brief second I wonder if Harry had other plans tonight but decide not to overthink it. He’d invited me openly. And maybe I was making a decision based on sadness and loneliness and grief and needing to be wanted but I make it. And I would make it like a grown woman—ready to accept the consequences.

I didn’t want to go back to my lonely hotel room. I didn’t want to call anyone and talk about what just happened. I didn’t have words. My body was taking the beating, feeling everything under the sun and now bruised and battered for it. I just wanted my body to forget that. And there was only one person in this godforsaken city that could help.

I’m let up to the penthouse and I forgot it had a distinct smell, wood-like and something indescribable. Weird that it felt comforting.

“You made it,” Harry comes into view in a simple pair of shorts and a long-sleeved white tee pushed up to his elbows. It’s the sleeves that really do it.

“I did.”

I leave my bags beside the elevator next to the umbrella stand, keeping my eyes on him. He doesn’t take his off mine either. I’m glad he doesn’t. Now I know he knows we both said drinks but meant something more.

He reaches out for me before I even get to him, and I know I would think about that later. A lot. But right then in the middle of his entryway I wrap my arms around his neck and lean up on my toes to reach him too.

His lips are soft against mine and he tucks me into him, his hand splayed out on my lower back. It feels like a return to a lover, someone who knows you, like I would’ve thought seeing Gray again would feel. But it’s just Harry, and the thought of baseless familiarity freaks me out a little.

The next time I feel his lips they’re on my jaw and neck and down to the base of my throat. He murmurs my name as he makes his way down and my body reacts immediately. He takes me by the waist and backs me up against the nearest wall, and I have a feeling I might fall.

I had made the conscious decision to walk into the devil’s lair because it was the only place I could get what I needed.

My fingers dig into his shoulders. My body wants this. Every part of me wants to pull him close and hold him and never let go. I wanted all of it tonight.

But I am so tired.

I put a hand on his chest and press gently. I can feel the warmth of his skin, the firmness of his muscles and the beat of his heart as he pauses.

“Sorry, I should have started with a hello. That was too fast was it?” He whispers, looking me straight in the eyes.

I have a million answers, but nothing comes. He puts his hand over mine and I feel it as a shiver runs up my spine.

"Is this too fast?" he asks again, and I hear the worry in his voice.

I shake my head.

He gives a breathy laugh, "Then tell me."

"I think I-“

“Don’t,” he covers my mouth with a laugh. “Please please. Don’t think.”

I smile under his palm and he drops his hand, I can tell he’s proud of lightening the moment by the sheen in his eyes. The moment is tender in a way that takes me back.

He brushes back my hair and kisses my forehead. I close my eyes, breathing in his cologne.

“That’s not where I want to be kissed,” I tell him.

“Then where?” He plays along.

“Anywhere but there.”

He kisses my nose. “There?”

“Not there,” I open my eyes to look up at him. “I’ll have you know that was very snotty just an hour ago.”

He groans, “you really have a way of taking the desire out of a situation.”

But his brows furrow and he watches me even closer.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I respond to his unasked question.

With that statement he takes a painful step back and I nearly slide down the wall without his support.

“What?” I ask.

“We should take that drink first.”

I feel the loss of his body pressed against mine, I realize miserably.

“What do you mean? I thought the drinks were just an excuse?” I ask.

He laughs a little, “Maybe tonight, but I really did want to have a drink with you. And talk.”

“Harry,” I groan. “I’m all out of talking tonight. Truly.”

“As much as I want to say forget talking and take you to bed I need to do this…just follow me,” he leads me and my flushed body through to the main living area which I was well familiar with but it’d gotten a facelift. I make commentary on the changes and he tells me more about it as he pulls a wine he wants out for us.

“I changed things around a little after you left,” he says as he hands me the wine glass. “I needed it. The change.”

“Oh.” Is all I can muster. I follow him to the sofa, tonight he doesn’t leave as much space between us but it still feels like a weird parallel to the night I landed in the hospital; a confrontation with Gray leading me to wine with Harry. “Look Harry I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Why not?”

“I…I’m at minimal capacity right now I just-“

“Just let me talk then.”

“Why does everyone want to talk!”

“I need to tell you what I should have said a long time ago and I want to apologize-“

“You already did-“

“Properly.”

I cross my arms and sigh.

“Y/n bloody hell I forgot how quickly you can get under my skin.”

“So this isn’t a great thing then.”

“Y/N,” he says my name like a warning and I want to comply. I roll my eyes and knock back my glass of wine, the buzz from the glass at dinner has long since worn away.

“Part of me wants to top you up but another part remembers what happened last time.” Harry eyes me.

“No I’m okay with just one glass. Drinking when I’m upset doesn’t end well.”

“Yeah…I don’t want you concussed on my watch again.”

“No we don’t want that,” we smile at each other, a soft and sentimental smile that gets the anxious stuttering of my heart to calm down a little. He just wanted to talk, so what?

But the anxious voice runs through the scenarios he might want to—his recent text, or something I did as his PA he wants to take up now. Gah.

“I really have missed having you around,” he says softly.

“Didn’t feel like you would with how you treated me.” I raise my brow.

“I know.” He pauses then mumbles something before talking to me directly. “You must have heard about the PA before you? Maybe from Riley?”

“Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Hmmm this feels like a trick question.” I say but he tells me he just wants to know what I knew. So I rip the bandaid off. “You had a fling with her.”

He hangs his head back over the seat of the sofa and sighs. “I knew that piece of…Riley makes me really mad when I think about him sometimes.”

“Does he?” I raise my brow. “I can think of someone else who makes me madder.”

“I know that’s supposed to be me. And I don’t know what to do about that except come clean right now.”

“And why is that?” I ask. “Coming clean? I came here just to get distracted in bed with you. I never thought I’d live to see the day where a guy like you wants to talk instead.”

“Y/N,” he says with such an intense look my way my stomach flips. “Trust me. I want to have you in my bed more than you do. But I told myself if that day ever somehow happened it would be after this.”

I shrug, let him continue. In reality his words make me weak and I can’t speak. Which kind of annoys me—why did he have such a strong pull over me? How did he so easily admit he’s thought about me, about having me in his bed!?

My heart flutters amongst other things.

I remember a brief conversation I had with my mom last year when she asked me why I wasn’t putting myself out there and dating again and I told her I just didn’t have the heart for it. She had said it seems I left my heart in London—my passion and my heart. Sitting here with Harry stirs something inside of me, scares me, and I want to distract that with more wine. But I manage to control myself.

“I was fairly new to the industry when I hired Riley and it was his second proper job or something so we were both a bit young and we ended up being friendlier than we should have.” Harry starts. “But he was great at his job and never gave me any issues. I stayed naïve that people in this industry would look out for my best interest-“

“That’s really naïve,” I can’t help but comment but he throws me a look and I zip my lips. “Sorry.”

“I was lucky that the first few relationships I built as I got my foot in the door were genuine but I realized too late that it wasn’t a norm. Everyone wanted a piece of me and they all wanted me to be someone else. Some angle. Shit hit the fan pretty quickly. So when I needed more help I decided to create a new role for Riley and hire a PA. She was seasoned and came highly recommended.”

I nod along to his story.

“Long story short, she started out good but she kept trying to get me alone and get me talking. And back then after being friends with my old PA I didn’t have the wisdom of setting boundaries—don’t give me that look.”

“What!” I raise my hands. “I’m just listening.”

“You’re judging me.”

“Just continue,” I encourage. I was judging a little.

“Anyway, where I thought we were just friendly she thought I—I dunno I was falling for her or something. And one night she was working late so she had dinner here. She kept refilling my drink I didn’t realize she wasn’t drinking as much. It’s not much of an excuse but by the time she came onto me I was pissed and it didn’t take much.”

He continues the story like it was nothing but his voice catches a little and he doesn’t look me in the eye. My insides grow colder. I want to reach inside of him and hold the old Harry, the naive one who didn’t know better.

“Please don’t feel bad for me,” he cuts my sympathy short. “I didn’t turn into a great person after that. Especially with how I treated you.”

“That’s right.” I pretend to be unaffected by his story like he wanted me to be. But it’s near impossible.

“So that’s how I decided it was best for me to play the asshole. I couldn’t fire her after that—it would look awful and she could report me and screw me over. But I could make working for me a nightmare and so I did. A few months later she quit.”

He sighs and takes a swig of his wine, “Then you came along and I thought ‘I should play the asshole from the get go.’ I had gotten good by then at compartmentalizing my personality in the industry.”

“Hmph,” I raise a brow. He has the decency to look embarrassed but he continues.

“But the more time we spent together the worse I felt. You were nothing like the previous PA. You were genuine and down-to-earth. Pretty fiery but I wouldn’t find that out until later,” he grins. I roll my eyes. “I tried to ease up a little but things kept happening to push me back into the asshole box.”

“But you were so snappy, and a dick.”

“I know. I didn’t know how to tell you you worked too hard without dropping the asshole act and making you feel even shittier.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had to be the villain in your story-“

“What?” What was he talking about?

“Yeah like, you were working all the time even though there were some times I told you to wrap it up for the day.”

I remembered that, thinking he was kicking me out.

“But you took the job so seriously. I appreciated everything you did but you were dogged at making sure you did the best at any cost.”

“What do you mean? At any cost?” I ask, a cold sensation running down my back.

“For example take that one time a few months in when I asked you to call me because you forgot to order wine. You bloody came all the way back to hand deliver it-“

“Yeah because you said to call you and you were gonna be pissed if I-“

“No, y/n,” he lays a hand between us. “I just wanted you to call to know where you usually ordered from so I could order that for myself. You weren’t in any trouble! But I could only blame myself for playing the hard asshole too well.”

I think about that night, Josie’s birthday party. How I left early and upset Gray. How I didn’t need to but I had been following the Dos and Dont’s list.

Shit, the lists. They were added onto by the last PA who, now I know, was having her life made into hell just so she would quit. Some of those lists were on an extreme I didn’t even have to follow. Fuck. That was on me.

My face must be a painting of regret because Harry apologizes again.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t want you to…I just felt like I had to play the villain so you could do what you had to do. So you could continue hating me and we could establish the clear boundary.”

“Right.” I have a bitter taste in my mouth.

“But I genuinely liked you, I thought you were funny and sensitive-“

“You don’t like my sensitivity.”

“I do. I just hated how angry you were-“

“Because of you.”

“I know. I created a monster, I’m Frankenstein.”

“Damn straight.” I agree and we pause a beat before laughing.

“Anyway,” he continues. “You were funny and sensitive and resilient, passionate and smart, and you cared so deeply. It was rare meeting people like you in this field. I wanted to wrap you in bubble wrap but I think I shattered you instead. I’m sorry for the way I just let my past colour your time here. I feel like you left because of me-“

“It was really a lot of reasons.”

“I know but I was part of that and I felt no good. After you left I was a miserable son of a bitch for a while. I couldn’t even enjoy my holiday because I kept thinking of you. I was miserable so I barely even said goodbye—I didn’t realize you were going to run away so far. But I also didn’t want to say goodbye because I was scared I would convince you to stay by spilling my truth.”

His words sit on my chest and they slowly sink down to my stomach. I don’t know what it meant, what he wanted me to do with this confession. It’s too much.

“Mostly,” he continues, shifting closer to me on the sofa. He lowers his voice, “Mostly I’m sorry about Barcelona.”

I flush at the mention of it. At the heat and passion from that night. His eyes roam my face.

“I’m not that guy. I should have treated you nicer, should have been the one to keep my patience.”

“I didn’t make it easy,” I admit.

“No,” he chuckles. “You really fucking did not.”

We smile.

“But you’re so much more than anger y/n. I could barely sleep that night, I kept regretting giving into the anger and not being slow and soft with you the way you deserve. I regret it all the time.”

His confession pulls the veil off my eyes and I see a sharper image of my past. Of everything. It all comes at once and I can’t sort through it in the moment but I know what I want to do.

I shuffle over until I’m up against Harry, I hold his face in mine and he cups my face in his hand.

“You drove me crazy,” I tell him. “Made my life hell.”

“I know. But you drove me crazy too. Nobody got under my skin like you did.”

“Same.”

His hand snakes down to my thigh and he nudges it over his lap so that I’m straddling his body. I feel vulnerable and scared—not the first time these emotions have coursed through me in this very room. But today I don’t feel powerless.

His lips are soft against my cheek, my jaw, down my neck. Unlike the first time he’s slow and deliberate like someone who’s waited so long to unwrap a cherished gift and can’t stand ripping even the gift wrap. He pushes my hair out of the way and trails his fingertips down the back of my neck.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers in my ear. The more he talked the more nervous he was making me. I turn my head to capture his lips, run my fingers through his hair which is too short to really grasp. I missed his old hair.

We break apart for a breath and I can feel the tension. The desire to have him near clashing with the need to go slow. To savour this. Somehow we both feel it.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight,” Harry promises me, his finger trailing down my arm. “Just having you here is enough.”

Oh god. How did he know just the things to say. This man was way too suave. He really was the devil.

But I needed him. It’s scary to admit but I did. I wanted to be here, I really did. I needed to be in this moment with him. Fulfill some shut-out desire that had grown dusty in the corner of my heart.

“I want to do this.”

With a gentle kiss he gets us up and takes my hand. I feel myself being pulled through the living room and towards the bedroom. The sheets are cool, but not cold and when he crawls in beside me I forget that I had ever been anywhere else.

He’s attentive and deliberate and I’m buzzing with anticipation. I decide to pick up the pace, propping myself up to take off my blouse. I watch his throat bob up and down like he’s never seen me like this before even though he has. It’s endearing.

The way his hands fit in the curve of my waist makes it harder to breathe. He moves his hands up my torso and to the straps of my bra. He pauses, as if asking permission, and when I nod, he kisses me. He unhooks it and slowly slides it off my shoulders, eyes fixed on mine.

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming.

I pull him close to kiss him again, and he pulls me under him so I can feel the full weight of him against me. This is what I needed. To be physically present and not stuck in the after tremors of the earthquakes of my past. Not that he wasn’t part of my past but this is different. A non-verbal agreement to just be present. I knew his ways with women, it could be a one-night thing and that’s what I needed.

But that’s why the moments of tenderness and adoration nearly take my breath away. I don’t know where to put these things.

He kisses down my shoulder while his hand trails down to my trousers. He hooks his finger into the belt loop and tugs gently, looking up at me for consent.

I nod.

He slowly takes them off, and when his fingers brush against my bare legs, my breath hitches.

It happens again when he presses his lips against my hip bone.

He stops for a moment, and I can almost see the cogs in his brain whirring.

He moves up to press his forehead against mine.

"I don't know how to do this right," he says quietly, and his eyes search mine.

“What do you mean?”

“This is always how I should have treated you,” he whispers. “I want you to know-“

“Harry,” I smooth out the lines on his forehead.

"No," he grabs my hand and kisses it. "I don't want you to feel like I don't care because I do. I don’t want to hurt you. I'm not good at saying these things. But I want you to know how much I value you. That I like you as a person. I respect you. I want you to be okay.”

“I-“ who was this Harry, seriously!? “I get it. I’m okay. I am.”

He smiles at me tentatively and my heart does a somersault.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips against his. I could taste the sweetness of the words he had said.

I tug at his shirt and it flies into the darkness of his bedroom. His skin is heated against mine.

It feels like an eternity before he finally reaches the band of my panties, and my heart thumps wildly.

"May I?" he looks up.

"Please," I whisper.

For the first time since I’ve met him he doesn’t make it about himself or what he needs. It’s almost intimidating how intense he is as he looks after me and it’s hard to reconcile this man with the man in my head. We’re of one mind and it’s like he knows everything I’ve been through in the last 24 hours; he just attends to my every need reminding me that I was here, right here, in his arms and in this body.

And it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you staying the night?” He asks later with a final kiss to my shoulder.

“If that’s alright?” I ask. I didn’t want to be alone in a cold hotel room.

“I’d love nothing more.” He says earnestly.

Love. I brush the word away.

He warns me that he was a slug if I stayed and he’s not exaggerating, with his arm draped over me and tucked up against him he’s like a child with a plush. He falls asleep just as quickly.

I should too but can’t. I feel so intensely about this body laying beside me, I want to crawl inside of him, understand him, understand us and how this worked.

Or maybe I wanted to just understand me, and why I felt a piece of myself sliding back into place tonight. I had to be the most fucked up person in this city.

Instead of sleeping I lay awake thinking about everything and I can’t help it. I go over this morning—god it felt like weeks ago. Josie’s graduation. Josie. Gray. Even Michelle.

I feel slightly paralyzed by everything that transpired today—it truly felt like peering through a glass window into a life I used to have. I try to break open the glass, sort it all out.

On one side is me and everything I’ve done this whole year to move on from the crumbs of my life here in London. I don’t know why but I really did think that coming back I would be 100% untouchable by my past. I was an idiot for thinking that because I was bothered that Gray seemed to have a steady girlfriend. Why did I think anything would rekindle between us?

I dig deeper, did I even want that to happen? Or did I just want to prove to myself that I was the one Gray let get away because I was too scared to face the possibility that I was the one who let Gray get away.

But clearly something didn’t work with us, I think bitterly. A few months with his new girl and he found the balls to open up with me and communicate his grievances and his apologies.

Love that’s as fierce and loyal as you are, he had said. Was I too much for Gray? Is that why we were made to burn out? It hurt too that he had damaged all my relationships I made in my life here in London only to cut those same people out of his life immediately after I left. The more I think about it the angrier I feel.

And his mom, I still feel bruised by her acting like she didn’t even know me. It stokes the anger higher. Her own son has called her crazy on multiple occasions, I was always nothing but kind to her. Gray was the one who put the final nail in our coffin yet the woman who called me her daughter and claimed to love me had been cruel. Even in the face of getting along for Josie’s sake she had put her petty feelings in the forefront.

These people made me so angry.

How did I ever think I could rekindle anything with Gray? As much as I was to blame, I realize, Gray couldn’t even be kind in the end. Just because the year apart was good to him didn’t mean he would still be good for me.

I think about the man laying beside me, in a hypothetical situation if things got ugly I instinctively want to say he would be cruel too. But I have to push past the persona he claimed to have put up and think about the glimpses of the man I saw underneath. Something tells me he would be just as fiery in letting me know how he was feeling. But with his recent apologies I’m not as convinced he would go out of his way to hurt me again.

Even in the bar last night, I just assumed he called me Mrs. Duran to be cruel but he hadn’t known. Or when I had assumed at Josie’s birthday party I would be fired for forgetting wine because he was an asshole when really he just acted like one so I wouldn’t feel worse.

How many times had I judged people because of how skewed my own lens was? It’s a sobering reminder.

Josie’s face flashes through my mind and I tear up at knowing we were going to cut each other out. No matter how much we loved each other staying in touch at this rate was no longer sustainable. For her best interest.

I think of my younger brother back home, my older sister, our family of 5. When I went back home there was so much to catch up on and eventually, apologize for. I had missed out on so much of my family’s life because I believed I needed to leave to grow. Well, life sure handed me a lot of lessons but I needed to go back home to plant them and let me grow.

Harry stirs beside me, nuzzling my neck in his sleep. I feel myself go teary eyed for no reason.

I wondered if this was just a one-night thing. If we would see each other again while I was in London. Did I want to see him? My heart sings yes immediately.

Damn.

What was it about him that pushed my emotions to the highest highs and lowest lows. How did he know every button to push and every bruise to kiss. This had to be toxic, we couldn’t just take our great big baggage of a past and see each other casually while I was in London. It couldn’t be that easy.

What if it was, hope whispers. I squirm. Could I forgive Harry for everything he’d done?

“Y’sleeping?” Harry mumbles to my left. Shit.

“Yeah,” I say which invokes a throaty chuckle from him. I check the time, it was nearly 4. Double shit.

“Liar,” he tugs on my hips and I turn to face him. “Talk to me.”

I couldn’t. Half of my thought were about him. And how could I tell him I was thinking about my ex after spending the night with him. So I just shake my head.

“Please?” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. “You need to sleep.”

“I-“ I try to say I can’t but the words get stuck in my throat. The emotions of everything I’d been thinking in the last couple hours threaten to dislodge the words from my throat so I close my mouth. But it doesn’t work.

A sob bursts out of me and before I can reel it all in the floodgates swing open and it carries all the pent-up sorrow and confusion, grief and anguish I had bottled up.

Harry freezes for a moment, probably very confused to wake up and have me reacting this way. But he recovers and pulls me into his warm chest.

“What is going on in that head of yours love,” Harry murmurs. Love. I sob even harder.

He murmurs reassuring words whilst stroking my back and I cry an embarrassing amount in the same bed where just hours ago I was blissed beyond comprehension. Life moves fast.

Finally when I gain enough composure I lean away, covering my face because crying into him was one thing but seeing my ugly cry face was another.

“Here,” I feel his body move and then tissues pressed into my hand. I’m grateful for them but I wasn’t going to blow my nose here. I sit up and try to dry my nose. His hand reaches out and the tips of his fingers rest on my spine like he was tethering my lost body to him. Somehow even that is reassuring.

“Don’t go trying to kiss my nose this early on again,” I try to joke through a stuffy voice.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he tugs my arm a little and I fall back beside him. He holds me in both his arms and I watch in horror and affection as he kisses the tip of my nose.

“Stop being so nice,” I laugh and cry a little too.

“You’re actually complaining about me being nice?”

“No I just—I’m not used to it,” I press the tissue to my eyes again.

“Well get used to it,” he peels the hair off of my face and pushes it back. “I don’t want to be the one hurting you. I swear to never ever be the reason you cry like this to anyone.”

“Don’t say those sorts of things if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he caresses my face. “You’re breaking my heart y/n, I don’t know who hurt you but I never want to see you like this. Especially not because of me alright? I’m sorry if I ever-“

“Stop,” I put my hand to his mouth. Which is kind of gross since I just blew my nose but I’m pretty sure him kissing my snotty nose means he didn’t care.

“But-“ he says behind my hand.

“I’m embarrassed right now,” I admit.

“You have seen me in every compromising situation,” Harry says. “And we have been through too much together to be embarrassed right now.”

“Fine,” I sigh. “It is tiring.”

“Maybe you can finally sleep now that it’s…almost 5?”

“Sorry,” I sigh. “I hope you don’t have something early?”

“Nope,” he kisses the top of my head. “And even if I did it wouldn’t matter.”

So we both try to go back to bed and I manage to fall asleep, all of those tiring racing thoughts washed away by a good cry. I feel warm and cared for and vulnerable and protected. A stark change from how Harry has made me feel before. Maybe this was temporary or maybe this was the start of something new. I’m just taking it minute by minute while all I can think is Do I or Don’t I?

***

It’s my final week in London and if you’d asked me a couple weeks ago if I was looking forward to going back home I would have said without hesitation yes.

But that night at Harry’s and putting my past to rest brushes away an old and tired film I had been viewing the city with since I landed.

We had seen each other a couple times a week since—I’ve been cautious despite my body saying otherwise. There were many days I had been free but I had made up some excuse not to see him, I was scared of getting too attached and having to leave.

But I can’t deny how nice it was to be with Harry without any labels. Most of the time I went over to his, it was tricky going out somewhere too public and risking getting papped. Together we just talk about life and work, my life back in America and my relationship with my family, his life growing up and his relationship with stardom. We watch movies and listen to music and make jokes and I open up a little about what had been weighing on my mind that night.

Winnie teases me that I was lighter than she’s ever seen me, that London looked good on me. I tell her she’s crazy. But even Oretta admits it when Winnie brings it up to her.

Harry makes the effort to make up for how he acted until it’s not just words. I believe what he was saying. And I admit to my faults too.

We still get under each other’s skin.

The thing we argue about the most is an opportunity Harry tries to get me to sign off on. The link he texted me when I was in Cambridge was an upcoming single one of his friends was releasing and he wanted to get me to bid on executing a music video for it. I tell him he was nuts and that I had no experience, plus I had a job. But he persists. He thinks I should explore putting my creative skills to use and not just my organizational skills. The arguing continues.

I have a date with him tonight, at the same bar we bumped into each other that first night. I have a question I’d been meaning to ask him.

“You aren’t actually a regular here are you?” I ask when we’ve settled.

“Of course I am,” he says but I know he’s lying. I raise my brow and he looks everywhere but at me. “Fine. I’m not.”

“So how the hell did you end up here that night?”

“Coincidence.”

“Liar.”

“I’m an honest man.”

“Truth please?”

“You’re embarrassing me here let’s move on.”

“Nuh-uh,” I’m enjoying his bright cheeks and darting eyes. “Did you stalk me or something?”

“I…I knew this was a local spot for you. Or was.”

“Really? How?”

“You mentioned it a few times? And I dropped you off here once after work.”

He might’ve. I’d met many friends and especially Gray here. I motion for him to continue.

“I might’ve known you were in town, might’ve found out you were here and…”

“So you did stalk me,” I gasp. “Oh my god ladies and gents he is obsessed.”

“That’s a strong word.” He argues.

“You. Stalked. Me.”

“Oh fine, I’ll confess: I’m used to the stalkers and I thought it was high time I did some stalking and see what the fun was all about,” he joins in on making fun of himself.

“Someone get me a restraining order,” I say just as someone approaches our table with drinks. As soon as they leave we burst out laughing.

“So have you given the music video any more thought?” Harry asks as the evening continues.

“Can we not talk about this right now?” I ask.

“I just think you should give it serious thought. I know you want to go into PR, be somebody’s Graham, but you have a really good eye for this thing. Before you pursue what you think you want, try this out.”

“You’re one dude,” I say again. “Who believes I can do this. You want me to throw away the career I’ve worked on for years to dabble in this and potentially waste time instead of getting to where I want?”

“Firstly, if you love doing something it’s not time wasted. And secondly you only ever need just one person to believe in you, angel.”

His fingers brush mine on the table, the familiar electricity courses through me just through the small touch. And of course, his use of pet names always turned me to putty. I hated how malleable he made me.

“Consider it. Just write a proposal y/n, it’s not betraying Oretta or anything. I can talk to her if you want if they choose your idea.”

It was scary putting myself out there for something I didn’t believe in myself for. But my echoes of burnout grow towards the idea of doing something less demanding than being an assistant just like a sunflower to the sun. It basks in letting my creativity flow.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Not for too long,” he taps my fingers again. We were cautious about being too touchy in public, even in a place like this where people genuinely didn’t care who he was. “Proposal’s due at the end of next week.”

When I would be back home in America. Away from here. Him.

We hadn’t talked about it, if we would try to keep in touch. I can’t really imagine a long-distance thing with Harry. Not at this stage. Mostly we enjoyed being in each other’s company and I was scared forcing labels just because we would be apart would ruin this fragile thing.

“Fine.” He’d worn me down and I submit. “Fine I’ll get something in for you.”

He pulls back with a shocked expression. “Did I just convince the stubborn y/n y/l/n to do something she didn’t want to do?”

I scowl. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I won’t,” he laughs, waving his hands around him like he was fanning in an aroma. “I’m soaking this in though.”

“Whatever,” I say with a smile.

“You make me work hard,” he smiles back. “For everything y/n. That’s one of the things I l-I-that I really like about you.”

We ignore the near slip of something far too serious for what we had going. We move past it but it sets my heart racing.

“So this friend of yours,” I change the subject. “With the music video. Didn’t you guys have like, beef when you were on tour? All that article stuff?”

“You of all people should know not to believe what you see online. It was all manipulated and put out of context.”

“I know but you were all moody for all your shows afterwards. I remember Jeff and Graham complaining. I assumed the articles had worn you down a bit.”

He raises a brow like he’s waiting on me to figure something out.

“What?”

“Really? You think it was the artcles?”

“Well what else happened that-“

Oh god. Was I that stupid?

Of course it wasn’t the articles, it was me! Us.

A smile stretches over the contours of his face as realization dawns on mine, “Twice in a row I’ve got you today, I should buy a lottery ticket.”

“I’m off my game today is all, don’t get used to it.”

I can’t believe it. Not that I didn’t believe Harry after the last few weeks but I—that night—really meant that much to him that his feelings over it had affected the rest of his tour? I had affected his tour?

“Why didn’t you say anything if it was weighing on you so much? If I recall I tried to talk to you a couple times.” I ask.

“What could I say,” he snorts. “You were engaged and my loss of control was why you cheated. Then you were quitting and I knew if I said anything you might have stayed. I didn’t want to keep you where you didn’t want to be.”

His words tug at my heart. He really had thought up a storm.

“Harry,” I lean back. “Gray and I broke up before I joined you guys on tour again. We weren’t cheating.”

His forehead creases, “What?! But you were together at my London show. I thought you two broke up after you moved back home?”

“No,” I guess in the last few weeks I’d just mentioned we broke up a long time ago. He didn’t know any specifics. “We were fake-together because he hadn’t broken the news to his sister then. But that’s why I was all…y’know in Barcelona-“

“Fuck me,” he groans. “No wonder you thought I was an ass for pulling you away-“

“Well you were-“

“Yeah alright-“

“Why did you really pull me away though?”

“I…I was feeling a bit possessive.”

“What?”

I wasn’t expecting that to come out of his mouth. He smiles sheepishly, “I thought we already came to terms with that.”

My stomach does a few somersaults. Until tonight I don’t think I’ve really focused on the magnitude of how Harry felt back then. Parts of my mind were still remembering him as a prick just because it was easier to remember my side of things. But this spins things in a brighter light.

“I was just your assistant though.”

“Y/N,” he tilts his head to the side. “Did I not already tell you what I thought about you that night in my flat?”

“Yeah but-“

“I’d never met anyone like you, I really liked you. I couldn’t have you though and I had to push you away constantly. And that drove me a bit crazy sometimes.”

I let out a noisy breath, wondering if how he felt about me was just as intense now as it was then. A part of me knows it must be. Feelings like that didn’t fade. But here I was, barely knowing what it was I felt for him. All I knew was that it was nice when we were together.

Why me, I want to ask. But I hold back. It wasn’t a question I could ask my ex-employer current-lover part-time-asshole.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Was that a bit strong?”

“No,” I sigh again and he laughs. “Fine. A little. But it’s fine, I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he believes me. “So you broke off your engagement and didn’t tell anyone?”

“Kinda, we weren’t in a place we could come back from. We decided that mutually after things blew up. He didn’t even know I was leaving the country actually.”

Harry whistles. “You ran out on all of us.”

I scratch the side of my head, “Maybe?”

“Well I’ve enjoyed having you again, here.” He says with sincerity. “I’m really relieved to be able to get to say everything I wanted to your face.”

I agree. Neither of us mention I was leaving later in the week.

Even by the night before I’m leaving London we still hadn’t discussed a thing. But there’s a heaviness to us as we have dinner at his, as we pretend to watch a movie only to cuddle on the couch. We lay there facing each other and I trace his eyes, his nose, his wonderful mouth. It’s so odd to me that this was the same Harry Styles performing in sold out venues and on the walls of teenage bedrooms. That I got to have him in these quiet moments and be present.

I feel so grateful for this. That I didn’t have to carry around these draining stories within me anymore, that it felt like it happened to someone else. In a way even if nothing came from all this, I got closure. I was able to move on now.

I imagine my heart and it feels like when you take a stroll mid-March and realize nature was healing from winter’s blues. Warm and blooming the earth was growing again—my heart was growing stronger. Now the idea of a date or a partner didn’t seem so daunting and exhausting. I would never have guessed that it would take the man who almost broke me to come into my life again for me to see how to fit those pieces back in place again.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do not having you in town anymore,” his lashes flutter as I run my hand through his hair. It was still shorter than I was used to but it had grown in the last three weeks.

“Oh you’ll be fine,” I say. “I’ve worked on your schedule before: meetings and studio sessions and photoshoots and interviews.”

“A busy life isn’t always a full one,” he whispers. And it’s the closest thing to a confession we were going to get to. I cover his mouth with mine and we indulge in each other one final time.

There is a symphony of unexpected but undeniable intimacy woven between the beats of our entwined hearts. I know I would probably never feel this way with anyone and I don’t think I’d want to. Being with Harry was passion. It was losing myself and finding myself at the same time. It was being vulnerable and guarded and cherished and known.

My flight out tomorrow is around noon but I can’t stay the night as I’d have to help Oretta in the morning to make sure everything gets to the airport in time. Harry walks me down to his lobby and we stand there for a few, just holding each other tight. He doesn’t ask me to stay and I don’t ask him to come.

“This isn’t goodbye y/n,” Harry says when we part. His hand rests on his heart. I know the feeling, mine aches so hard I want to press my hand to it just to tell it everything would be fine.

“No,” I shake my head. My eyes had been teary ever since he squeezed me to him. “We’ll talk soon.”

“You’ll be directing music videos soon.”

I roll my eyes, “I’m still working on the proposal.”

“I have a good feeling about it.”

“That makes one of us. But…thanks for believing in me.”

“Thanks for believing in me,” he whispers. “Even when you didn’t have to.”

I’m glad I did. The only time in my life not paying attention to the warning bells had paid off.

“I’ve been working with this new producer and he wants me to come out to a studio in Cotati?” Harry mentions. “How far is that from where you are? Are you still in m Burbank?”

“Burbank’s where my parents are,” I shake my head. I look up what he’s talking about and feel a thrill when it’s less than a couple hours. Still, I try to maintain neutrality. “A little over an hour?”

“Well,” he brushes my hair over my shoulder and keeps his eyes looking just over it. “Depending on what you’re doing—maybe if you’re free…we can see each other again?”

I would love that. My heart is bursting just thinking of getting to have him in the place I called home. Of this meaning something. Of him wanting to see me again.

“Of course if you have a boyfriend by then and he doesn’t want you to see me that’s…I mean, live your life and if it works out we-“

“Yes,” I cut him off. “Yeah. Let’s see but that sounds good.”

He meets my gaze and I laugh a little, he was nervous and that was rare.

“Good,” he smiles with. “Until next time.”

“Until next time,” I step into his arms and it’s a quick affair before he steps away. I turn to head out the door, shielding my eyes from him. Not wanting him to see that this was stupidly hard to say goodbye.

He waves me off and I head back to my hotel with a heavy heart. But I think about him asking to see me again. Who knows when that would be. And I know this wasn’t the end of our story.

***

I’m happy to land in SFO the following evening, happy to busy myself with Oretta’s business, happy to have Winnie chattering away. I spent parts of the flight I wasn’t sleeping working on my MV proposal and it awakens a familiar passion inside of me I’d been afraid I’d lost.

I send out a silent thanks to Harry for knowing what was good for me.

I think of Harry often, Gray even less until I don’t think of him at all. I dream of London weekly; I missed it this time around. And as life resumes again I anticipate the change I sense on the horizon.

So when life gives me lemons I stop asking Do I or Don’t I. If one thing the last year has taught me was I had to listen to my gut and look at the signs. I had to start asking what I wanted and go after it. Even though Harry and I barely talk, I remember the lessons he’s taught me.

I stop looking to others to make decisions. There’s no guidebook or lists to help me make my decisions either. I take deep breaths and I believe in myself.

I build a new life on the remains of my old. I don’t let it dictate what I did anymore, I simply leave it as the foundation to elevate me even higher. I reach for the sky with my feet planted firmly on the ground. And I grow with reckless abandon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld @love-letters-to-uranus @mayamonroem @sassamanda77 @harryspirate

🤍

#writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fic #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #musician!harry #harry styles series #harry stylesxreader #enemies to lovers #dos and don’ts #this is DONE #I HAD THE MOST FUN WRITING THIS I REALLY POURED MY HEART INTO IT #IM SO HAPPY ITS DONE #AHHH #I LOVED WRITING THESE CHARACTERS #EVEN THE FRUSTRATING ONES #fic #<3 #i considered an epilogue but firstly not enough space and secondly idk if this open-ish ending suited the series? #if you didn’t like the ending I’m sorry just consider the alternate ending to be right after the grad dinner #but listen distance and experience provides perspective so nobody stay mad #okk byee #love ya

[obsessedasusual]

We’re Only Human - Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

xReader

Summary: Jake Seresin is many things, but above all else he just wants to be loved.

Warnings: swearing, sad!jake, insecurity

Note: 1.8k - ITS SAD BOI HOURS OVER HERE BESTIES!! I haven’t posted in the longest time and I finally finished one of my many (many) wips during my lunch break - best I post it now before I just, don’t.

Read Part Two here!

Jake Seresin was many things.

He was a respected, decorated naval aviator who had truly found his life’s calling up in the skies, high above the clouds. When you had first met him, you’d found how much he loved his career endearing and even refreshing. He had described to you the feeling of adrenaline that hit from taking off the runway when you’re the one at the controls, you could do nothing but smile at how animated he was as he talked.

He was an early bird. You put it down to the Navy in him if you had to guess. He was always awake before you, sometimes at downright ungodly hours. He’d leave you with a soft kiss to your shoulder when he rose from the bed as quietly as he could, smiling fondly at you as you cozied further into the warm duvet.

He was protective. That was probably the one trait about the pilot that hadn’t surprised you when you started seeing each other. Someone throws you off balance while making your way through a packed bar? Jake’s there to keep you on your feet while shooting daggers at the perpetrator. Being talked over while you’re trying to politely place your order? Don’t even worry, Jake’ll soon sort them out.

He was a momma’s boy who would do anything for his mother in a heartbeat. The first time Jake had taken you home to meet his parents you were amazed at how quickly this big, macho Lieutenant transformed into a sweet, southern gentleman for his mom. It became an inside joke between yourself and his father.

He was an amazing cook. Date number three was when Jake had invited you back to his place and wowed you with an array of tapas style dishes, making a game out of it and asking you to score every one out of ten. His usually confident smile had turned surprisingly shy when you raved about each one and rated well above ten.

But was a hater of dips. ‘I have a perfectly fine room-temperature potato chip,’ he would argue, ‘why would I go and ruin that with a cold dip that’s gonna kill the flavour completely of said room-temperature potato chip?’

Jake Seresin was many things… but quiet wasn’t one of them.

Which is why you were confused when he didn’t laugh at the gag on ‘That 70’s Show’, which happened to be one of his favourite sitcoms. Instead he stared at the wall behind the TV, fork resting in his bowl of pasta from when he had gone to take another mouthful… and then hadn’t.

“Jake?” Your voice seemed to snap him out of his daze as his head shot to face you, instantly planting a smile on his face when his eyes met yours.

“Hm?”

“You okay?” An emotion that didn’t fit with the smile he was currently sporting flew through his eyes at your question.

“Better than okay, baby.” With that he turned back to face the TV and resumed his eating, ignoring your look of concern as you kept your eyes on him for a moment longer before finally following suit.

He didn’t speak for the rest of the episode, and remained quiet into the next.

So, no, it wasn’t like Jake talked twenty-four seven. But this type of quiet… this was different. It was the vacant look in his eyes that had you wondering.

As much as you wanted to question him further, you knew he would talk to you when he was ready.

And maybe he was.

You made a move to reach over the coffee table to grab the two now abandoned dinner plates and begin the clean up. When you stood and turned away from the couch his voice stopped you from moving any further.

“Do you think I’m an asshole?”

When you turned back to face him he was staring once again at the wall behind the TV.

“What?”

He sighed and leant his forehead against his fist before finally turning his head to you and repeating his question, quieter this time, “Am I an asshole?”

You stood frozen in your spot, eyes narrowing at his question, “No… you’re not an asshole. What makes you ask that?”

Jake bit at his lip and turned away from you, pulling yourself out of your trance. You placed the plates back on the coffee table and returned to your seat next to him, sitting criss-cross on the sofa.

He stayed facing away from you and nodded to himself, “I’m an asshole.”

“What’s going on, Jake?” You reached out to lightly pull at his forearm, enticing him to turn to you.

When his eyes met yours your concern only grew. His eyes were usually full of life and happiness, now, they seemed to hold hurt.

“Please tell me what’s going on.”

“Phoenix has always thought I was. And now the whole group does. Thought that from the first time they met me. Two weeks ago,” he was rambling a bit, as he did when he was a bit worked up but you let him continue, trying to pick up on what the issue was, “I don’t even know what I did that night but everyone made up their minds apparently. And Bradshaw didn’t help the cause.”

You knew his history with Lieutenant Bradshaw was rocky. And you knew a lot of it stemmed from insecurity, mostly on Jake’s part.

He took a deep breath before continuing, “I said something dumb today.”

His eyes darted from yours to all over the room, “Something fuckin’ dumb. In front of everyone. That I shouldn’t have said and I knew I shouldn’t have said, but I did. And now everyone hates me, well… more. Even fuckin’ Javy told me off. Can you believe that? Javy, of all people.”

As long as you’d known Jake, you’d known Javy. And he had always had Jake’s back. So that revelation was actually a little surprising.

A beat of silence passed between the two of you before you decided to speak up softly, “What did you say?”

This time when he met your eyes you saw remorse and guilt, “Bradshaw… his parents are, you know,” dead, “And I found out that his old man was Maverick’s WSO, and was flying with him when his dad… you know.”

“Okay…?” You trailed off, not really knowing where this was going.

He rubbed harshly at his eyes as if he was trying rub away the memory, “And I… Jesus fucking Christ. I told everyone. Right in the middle of training. Just… laid it all out there. Like it was my story to tell.”

Oh shit.

“He launched at me, he was ready to kill me. Fair enough too. And I, I kept going. Kept poking the fuckin’ bear.” He took a deep breath, “Everyone jumped in, pulled us apart. Mav dismissed us. But God if looks could kill.”

So that’s why he was home before you today.

“Why’d you say it?” You asked after a moment. Jake closed his eyes at your question and shook his head.

“Because I’m an asshole? I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it.”

You had a pretty good idea as to why he said it, “I think you do know why you said it, Jake.”

He looked helpless and downright embarrassed at your words.

Jake was the best of the best. That wasn’t an exaggeration nor a secret. He worked tirelessly to get his skill level to where it was today. And that had meant accidentally burning some bridges along the way, resulting in not too many friendships.

Rooster on the other hand, while also an incredibly skilled pilot, had a habit of being loved everywhere he went. He was a very popular man. And that irked Jake something terrible.

Jake was jealous.

And the thought of his skill set potentially being overlooked because of some weird form of aviator nepotism? That didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I’m such an asshole.”

“You need to apologise to Rooster.” You offered gently, resting your hand on his shoulder.

He nodded, “I know. Fuck I know. But how do you apologise for something like that?”

His eyebrows scrunched together when he looked at you.

“You just… do. You need to mean it, and I know you do. Leave it tonight, but tomorrow. You need to talk to him.”

“Bet you think I’m a shitty person now, huh?”

There it was again, the insecurity.

You shook your head at his statement and took his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of it, “Jake I know you. Better than anyone in that group. You’re not an asshole, I wouldn’t be here if you were. But you do need to work on letting people in, and acknowledging other people’s skills.”

He made a move to cut you off but you got in first, “Have you told Phoenix how in awe of her flying you are?”

His mouth snapped shut at that.

He’d raved about her skills years ago when they were deployed together, and again since they’d been training together over the past few weeks.

“It wouldn’t hurt to start acting like you care.”

“I do care!”

“I know that. I know you care too much. But Jake, you don’t always have to be this big macho man. No one’s going to think any less of you.”

He laced his fingers with yours and squeezed tightly, head tilted back as he took in what you were saying.

“God, you could do so much better than me.”

You smiled softly at the side of his face before leaning in to kiss his cheek, “I don’t want anyone else but you.”

The light red that dusted his cheeks made you grin. You wrapped both your arms around one of his and snuggled in closer, resting your head on his shoulder, revelling in the kiss he pressed to your hair.

It was a while before Jake spoke up again, “What if he won’t talk to me? What if he, what if everyone, actually hates me now?”

You felt your heart break for your partner. Nevermind the awards he got. Nevermind the records he set. Jake Seresin just wanted companionship. He’d found that with you and Javy, and he wanted that with his squad. He wanted what they already had with each other.

“You can only try, Jake. He’ll probably be pissed, rightfully so. But you have to try.”

You felt his head nod against his, “I will.”

Turning your head slightly you kissed his clothed shoulder, “I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you too. So much.”

Jake Seresin was many things.

Above all else he was simply human.

#jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick

[ireadyabooks]

Spring into Extraordinary Graphic Novels from I read YA! 🌷🎨

Graphic novels are one of our favorite reading formats here at I read YA! It’s always such a joy seeing an author bring their magnificent storytelling to life with their artwork or another artist adding their unique spin! The possibilities are endless when it comes to graphic novel styles, and that’s what makes them so perfect! There is something for everyone! We have compiled some of our recent favorite graphic novels below that you should absolutely check out as we welcome spring and warmer weather! Whether you’re looking for stories about an adorable daydreamer, a dark secret, or two boys simply falling in love, we have it all! Happy reading!

Rainbow! Volume 1 by Gloom & Sunny

From Tapas Media, the same webtoon platform that brought you Magical Boy, comes Rainbow!, a new LGBTQ+ YA graphic novel series!

Teenager Boo Meadows has pink hair and a very vivid imagination -- she has trouble separating from the real world. In her daydreams, she dances beautifully at balls or fights monsters as a magical girl. In reality, she has a complicated home life, work stress, school stress, and a wicked crush on the girl of her dreams. When a new student, Mimi, arrives at school, Boo starts exploring a side of herself that she never considered before. As she grows closer with Mimi, it may finally be time for Boo to face reality . . . Who is the real Mimi? The one in her dreams? Or the one in real life?

Rainbow! is perfect for fans of Heartstopper and Magical Boy, full of heart, adorable illustrations, and a storyline that any teenager can relate to!

Start reading Rainbow! Volume 1 now!

Escape From St. Hell by Lewis Hancox

In this sequel to the Indie bestseller Welcome to St. Hell, Lewis Hancox tells the hilarious, inspiring story of coming into his own as a trans man.

For Lew, figuring out he was a guy and wanted to live life as a guy was the end of our journey... and the start of a whole other journey. Escape From St. Hell charts all the changes that Lew wanted to be made in order for him to live as a young trans man -- changes not just to his own body and perspective, but to the perspectives of the family, friends, and enemies around him.

As he did in his bestselling graphic memoir Welcome to St. Hell, Lewis Hancox charts his journey with plenty of laughs, a good number of cringes, and an honesty that takes readers along for the ride of Lew's life.

Start reading Escape From St. Hell now!

The Deep Dark by Molly Knox Ostertag

From Molly Knox Ostertag, writer-illustrator of the New York Times and Indie bestselling The Witch Boy trilogy and The Girl from the Sea, comes a darkly beautiful story of identity, family, love, loss, and magic.

Everyone has secrets. Mags’s has teeth.

Magdalena Herrera is about to graduate high school, but she already feels like an adult with serious responsibilities: caring for her ailing grandmother; working a part-time job; clandestine makeouts with a girl who has a boyfriend. And then there’s her secret, which pulls her into the basement each night, drains her of energy, and leaves her bleeding. A secret that could hurt and even kill if it ever got out -- like it did once before.

So Mags keeps her head down, isolated in her small desert community. That is, until her childhood friend Nessa comes back to town, bringing vivid memories of the past, an intoxicating glimpse of the future, and a secret of her own. Mags won’t get attached, of course. She’s always been strong enough to survive without anyone’s help.

But when the darkness starts to close in on them both, Mags will have to drag her secret into the daylight, and choose between risking everything... or having nothing left to lose.

Start reading The Deep Dark now!

Heartstopper 5 by Alice Oseman

Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. The bestselling LGBTQ+ graphic novel about life, love, and everything that happens in between: this is the fifth volume of the much-loved HEARTSTOPPER series, featuring gorgeous two-color artwork.

Nick and Charlie are in love. They’ve finally said those three little words, and Charlie has almost persuaded his mum to let him sleep over at Nick’s house. He wants to take their relationship to the next level... but can he find the confidence he needs? And with Nick going off to university next year, is everything about to change?

By Alice Oseman, winner of the YA Book Prize, Heartstopper encompasses all the small moments of Nick and Charlie’s lives that together make up something larger, which speaks to all of us.

Contains discussions around mental health and eating disorders, and sexual references.

Start reading Heartstopper 5 now!

Stars in Their Eyes by Jessica Walton and Aśka

In this lighthearted YA romance, Maisie and Ollie discover that nothing beats the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

Maisie is on her way to Fancon! She's looking forward to meeting her idol, Kara Bufano, the action hero from her favorite TV show, who has a lower-leg amputation, just like Maisie. But when Maisie and her mom arrive at the convention center, she is stopped in her tracks by Ollie, a cute volunteer working the show. They are kind, charming, and geek out about nerd culture just as much as Maisie does. And as the day wears on, Maisie notices feelings for Ollie that she's never had before. Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

Perfect for fans of Heartstopper and Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me, this graphic novel debut is a fresh, one-of-a-kind story that celebrates the excitement of meeting someone special for the first time.

Start reading Stars in Their Eyes now!

The Good Neighbors by Holly Black and Ted Naifeh

From the bestselling author of The Cruel Prince, an astonishing graphic trilogy set in a faerie world, full of mystery, intrigue, and romance.

From the amazing imagination of bestselling author Holly Black and acclaimed illustrator Ted Naifeh, a mysterious and wonderful faerie saga, for the first time in one volume.

Rue Silver's mother has disappeared... and her father has been arrested, suspected of killing her. But it's not as straightforward as that. Because Rue is a faerie, like her mother was. And her father didn't kill her mother -- instead, he broke a promise to Rue's faerie king grandfather, which caused Rue's mother to be flung back to the faerie world. Now Rue must go to save her -- and defeat a dark faerie that threatens our very mortal world.

Start reading The Good Neighbors now!

#ireadya #yabooks #Rainbow! #Gloom & Sunny #Escape From St Hell #Lewis Hancox #The Deep Dark #Molly Knox Ostertag #Heartstopper #Alice Oseman #Stars in Their Eyes #Jessica Walton #Aśka #The Good Neighbors #Holly Black #Ted Naifeh #graphic novels

[seeminglydark]

In the spirit of ‘hey I’m going to post a Mil-Liminal update tonight’ here’s a bunch of deleted scenes that didn’t make it into the book, but that I love honestly.

Read mil-liminal on Webtoon or Tapas!

In case it’s not clear from these pics, and you’re new here, Mil-Liminal is a webcomic romance/horror. Caro’s a world famous podcaster who happens to be able to actually see ghosts. And John’s a reclusive grumpy barista who can’t see past his own trauma. Trauma sucks and ghosts are scary, and despite being sweethearts back in their Highschool days, falling in love honestly just might be the biggest challenge either of them have yet to face.

#mil liminal #bts #sketchbook #deleted scenes #Caro having their Tony hawk moment makes me lol so much #original characters #ghost stories #webcomics

[badwritinghabit]

Chef's Kiss | Carmy x fem!OC x Luca | Chapter 7

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Ao3

Warnings: none this chapter! Let me know if you see anything you think I should add.

Word Count: 5,033

Summary: Luca invites Sophie to a night out with his chef friends where Carmy and Claire are surprise guests. And Sophie and Luca spend a day together as tourists.

As he dropped her off, Luca invited Sophie to join him for tapas with some of his chef friends later that night. He said he’d call her later when they were headed to the restaurant. Some part of her assumed he’d change his mind. This was a one night thing, surely. He’d return to Copenhagen and she’d never see him again. But even so, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

She spent the morning lazily reading and listening to music, feeling good. She was tempted to text her sister, she wanted to tell someone about what had happened. But Mallary was on vacation with her family and she didn’t want to interrupt.

Syd texted her in the early afternoon asking if she wanted to join her to get lunch at another restaurant on her list. She was on a mission to try as much new food as possible in the lead up to the opening of The Bear and Sophie had joined a few other times to keep her company and to expand her restaurant experience in Chicago. Sophie eagerly accepted her invite, knowing Syd also wanted to talk about what ended up happening with Luca.

They talked over pancit and lumpia. She filled Syd in on the date, no sordid details, but blushing enough when she talked about him inviting her back to his hotel that Syd grinned and Sophie felt she basically knew everything anyways.

“He invited me to come out with his friends tonight. It’s strange, right? It seems like a lot for something casual.”

“Maybe he likes you and wants more than casual?” Syd asked, taking a sip of water.

“He lives in Copenhagen. That seems unlikely.”

Syd shrugged. “So are you going to see him again tonight? Night two?” She was smirking at Sophie.

“Syd, I’m a little worried this is the best sex I will ever have. If he wants a night 2, I will be there.”

Syd laughed loudly and Sophie swatted her arm with a laugh of her own. “You said it had been a while right?” she asked at her nod, she shrugged. “Don’t build him up in your head too much. You have nothing to compare him to. College boyfriends are not the best measuring stick for sexual prowess.”

“You’re not wrong there,” she accepted. “I do feel a bit like a teenager. Honestly it is kind of embarrassing.”

“You’re down bad.” Syd nodded, faking understanding.

As if being summoned, Sophie’s phone started ringing. It was Luca.

“Hey,” she answered, motioning to Syd to be quiet. Syd shook her head with a silent laugh.

“Hello. I’m with some chef friends and we made our way to Boystown early, I thought I’d see if you wanted to join us early. We’re going to a bar.”

“I’m actually eating with Syd right now,” she said, biting her lip. “I’d still be up for joining afterwards though.”

“Yeah that sounds good. I’ll let you know when we are headed to the bar.”

“See you then,” she said, voice a little too excited. She hung up and looked at Syd’s grinning face.

“See you then.” Syd teased her. Sophie groaned and put her head in her hands. “Down bad.”

—

She was, she realized. As she walked into the bar lobby and felt her whole body light up when she saw Luca. She made herself walk over calmly and not call out to him or do anything embarrassing.

He greeted her with a hug and kiss on the cheek- the kiss surprising her a little- and then introduced her to his friends. Sebastian, Lyssie, and Carlo, all Chicago area chefs. They were intimidating and a little too much like the chefs she usually avoided. All eager to talk about their newest accomplishments.

She tried to make a good impression, be complementary and kind. But she ended up feeling most comfortable with Lyssie’s wife, Laura. She seemed equally uninterested in hearing the gossip about the chef who had added too much lemon juice in a reviewer’s dish and had never recovered. The two ended up by the bar chatting for a bit and then she stuck close to her when they rejoined the group. Laura was a science writer working on a book and the two bonded over writing.

Sophie picked a bit at the tapas and eventually wandering back over to the chefs who happened to be talking about Chef Thomas, the owner of the restaurant she worked at in San Diego.

“You worked with Johann Thomas, didn’t you?” Luca asked as she joined them, pulling her into the conversation.

“I did. Ivy Green. Fantastic restaurant.”

“He’s a handful. Very old school techniques.” Sebastian added, looking judgmental.

“He’s unbelievably talented,” she said with a warm smile, wanting to defend her friend but not wanting to get into a debate. She watched as recognition flashed in his eyes.

“Wait, you’re Sophie Miller?” Sebastian asked, looking shocked.

“Yeah?” she responded, more of a question.

“Of course. I didn’t put it together,” Sebastian said, eyes still wide. “He certainly speaks highly of you. I saw him last year. He said you and Carmen were the only chefs under the age of 50 that were worth seeking out for their food.” Sebastian explained.

Sophie squinted, unsure. “That doesn’t sound right. He was on my ass the whole time I was there. Said I julienned carrots like a fuckhead.” She laughed to herself. “Once Chef Thomas found out I worked with Carmy he constantly talked about how much worse I was than him.”

“That’s not what he says to other people.” Suddenly, Sebastian seemed much more interested in her. It annoyed her a little.

They were interrupted before she had to respond. Carmy and Claire walked in the restaurant. Sophie smiled at the two of them, trying to remain calm. She didn’t know Claire would be coming- didn’t think about it. But she realized this was a good way to get the introduction over with. Lots of other people around to help hide her nerves.

Carmy did the rounds, shaking hands. He seemed as uncomfortable as she was.

“Carmen Berzatto and Sophie Miller in one place. We were just talking about Chef Thomas’ favorites.” Sebastian said after a bit, seeming to want to get back to that conversation. Carmy just nodded.

“I still don’t know about this favorite thing. Whenever I talk to him he asks if I’ve learned how to sharpen my knives yet. One time he caught me slacking. Never gonna live that down.” She grinned, trying to get Sebastian off her case with a joke.

“He said your sister single handedly took out the best up and coming chef,” he said, curiously.

Sophie froze, drink pressed against her lips. She wanted to be flattered, she respected Chef Thomas’s opinion greatly. But she hadn’t been prepared to talk about her sister. And her heart started racing. “He has a flair for the dramatics, hasn’t he?” she asked with a shaky smile.

Carmy chimed in. “He does. Remember the year he wore a gold suit to the James Beard award ceremony?”

Sophie looked to Carmy gratefully as everyone changed direction and started talking about the James Beard awards. She was surprised he spoke up, he so rarely did in these types of conversations.

“Does anyone else need anything?” she asked, motioning towards the bar, wanting to escape for a second to catch her breath. Carmy volunteered to go with her and Claire followed.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” she said, reaching a hand out to shake Claire’s. She wasn’t going to get the break she wanted but it would be good to talk to Claire. She should get it over with.

“You too. Carmy has told me a lot about you.” Claire smiled, her hand sliding into Carmy’s. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“I didn’t either,” Sophie said with a small smile as she sidled up to the bar. She looked at Carmy for a second with a grimace. “Luca invited me. I think I somehow convinced him I might fit in with the chef friends,” she said with a self deprecating sigh. She looked back to Claire with a shrug.

“You were fine,” Carmy encouraged, his gaze heavy on her. She smiled and ordered another drink. Carmy wasn’t drinking but Claire ordered wine.

“Have you been here before?” Claire asked, steering the conversation as she got her drink.

“I have not. Have you?” She turned to Claire.

“Yes, just once. The food here is really good.” She smiled. “At least, I think it is. You all are the chefs.”

“Our palettes are all fucked.” Sophie joked. “You’d be the better judge probably.” Carmy was grinning. “Oh Carm, did you see? Figs and goat cheese.” She raised her eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Height of cuisine tonight.”

At Claire’s confused look, Sophie explained. “I’m being mean. Carmy and I were working in New York when the fig and goat cheese fad swept the city. It’s delicious, don’t get me wrong. But it became a bit of a joke,” she tried to explain. Claire nodded politely but Sophie felt bad, she didn’t want to make a bad impression. She was still reeling from the question about her sister.

“I’ve heard you work in the emergency department at a hospital? That is so impressive. Are you one of those people who get super calm in tense situations?” she asked, trying to win her back over.

“Actually, yes! I feel like my brain thrives under the pressure. Like a puzzle. It’s really rewarding work.”

“That’s amazing. I feel like Carmy is similar. Obviously different –scales?” She faltered on the last word, not wanting to insult either person. “But I’m so jealous. Not my strong suit at all.”

“Really? But it sounds like you were quite good at cooking.”

“The yelling and the rush got to me. I ended up being a much better pastry chef. I like getting up early and prepping at 5am when no one is around and then being able to leave when things get heated.” She smiled.

She asked Claire more about herself and shared bits of her story in turn. She was lovely. Of course she was, she was Carmy’s girlfriend.

It wasn’t long before Luca wandered over with a small plate and handed it to Sophie. “I thought you might want to try one,” he said, handing the plate over before wrapping an arm around Sophie, hand warm against her lower back.

Carmy huffed out a laugh, looking away and putting a hand to his mouth. Sophie glanced to Carmy and then down at the plate and bit back a laugh as well. Luca had brought her the fig and cheese appetizer.

“What?” he asked, looking confused.

“Thanks! This is sweet. We were just joking before you walked over,” she said, leaning into him slightly since both hands were now taken up, one with a drink and the other with the plate. “Should we re-join the group? I was hoarding Claire’s time.”

As they walked back Carmy slyly grabbed the crostini from the plate and slid it into his mouth. She shook her head at him, grinning.

The rest of the night was calm. Luca and the other chefs shared stories. Unfortunately for Carmy, the chefs were all hounding him with questions. He always answered them briefly. He seemed to get more comfortable over time but still disliked the attention.

Eventually she snuck off to the bathroom and checked her phone, making sure her sister hadn’t contacted her. She felt a little panicky, worried she’d messed up somewhere. Particularly worried about her conversation with Claire. The other chef’s opinions didn’t matter too much but she wanted the night to go well. Wanted to leave Claire with a good impression.

Mallary hadn’t texted. She held her phone and took a breath.

She decided to text Chef Thomas, giving herself a little more time before she had to go back and face everyone again.

“Just met some Chicago chefs who told me how much you appreciate my julienning skills.” 

He responded right away, “They’re lying to you.” He texted again. "Just sharpen your knives, you'll be fine." And then a third time. “How’s your sister?” 

She replied quickly, letting him know Mallary was doing well. She walked out of the restroom with a smile on her face.

His reply cheered her. She could practically hear his disapproving voice in her head. Feigning annoyance with her but still always supportive. She was ready to go back. Sophie spotted Carmy at the bar as she left the restroom so she walked over to him. “Hiding at the bar, chef?” she asked.

“Getting another glass for Claire,” he responded. “And also hiding.”

She laughed. When the bartender asked if she wanted anything else, she asked for a glass of water. “How’s Luca?” he asked her, the glass of wine in his hand but he hadn’t turned to leave yet.

She bit her lip and looked at the bar. Her heart sank a little. She shrugged. “He’s lovely. Of course. But I think I messed things up.”

She met his eyes and felt the immediate pull to spill her guts to him.

“I just– fuck. I don’t know. Yesterday I pretended I could flirt and go on a date with someone and be normal. But–” she stopped, feeling selfish. “It’s stupid really. So many bigger things happening. Don’t know why I care anyways.” She forced a smile and pushed away from the bar to go back to the table but Carmy grabbed her arm. Her heart stuttered in her chest. She wished he hadn’t touched her- hadn’t reminded her what his hands felt like.

He stood in front of her. “Look, Soph. I get it. But Luca is a good guy. And it really doesn’t matter what any of them think of you anyways.”

She forced herself to smile at him, ignoring the pounding of her chest. “Yeah, thanks Carm.”

---

They said goodbyes at the end of the night. Sophie felt slightly hopeful that things went better than she had feared because Claire hugged her as she left. The chefs clearly weren’t as interested in networking with her once they found out she had no immediate plans to start cooking again, but they were all cordial and she was glad she met them at the end of it all.

She and Luca stood in front of the restaurant after everyone left and she shifted on the balls of her feet. “Thanks for inviting me,” she said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable,” he responded, clearly looking concerned.

“No! It was fine. I’m just in a weird place with cooking and everything I guess. But they were all very nice,” she finished, realizing she was digging herself deeper.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Find another bar or something?” He ended up asking. “I haven’t really explored much.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she agreed.

He seemed to hesitate as he looked down the street. “I’ve never actually been here before,” he admitted and she grinned at him and reached over to grab his hand in hers.

“How about we go this way? There’s a tiny park and a garden we could see. It’s not far.” He nodded and followed her lead.

“Do you not like talking about your time in San Diego?” he asked, curiously. He seemed open and curious, like he just wanted to get to know her. If this were a normal date, she’d think this was lovely. But she was getting confused. They couldn’t actually date, this had to be something casual. So why was he doing all of this? Was he just a kind person? She wished she could summon the fake confidence she had in fits and bursts the previous night. But she felt drained.

“I don’t mind talking about it! It was actually really nice. Chef Thomas has a reputation of being rude but he is really very kind once you get to know him,” she said. “And I loved San Diego. Even more than New York City. Have you been to California at all?”

“Just L.A. I’d like to see San Diego someday.” He paused. “Carmy has a lot of fans, yeah?” he said when she didn’t offer more.

“Oh yeah. Poor guy. He really isn’t in it for the fame. It throws most people that he isn’t going around bragging about it.” She grinned. “For all of the jealousy that comes with being friends with someone so talented, Carmy not particularly enjoying the accolades really helps.”

Luca grinned at her. “You seem close,” he said. “He talked about you a lot when we worked at Noma.”

She nearly tripped over an uneven sidewalk section. “That doesn’t sound like Carmy,” she said, slowly, shocked.

“He did. Said you were going to be the best pâtissière in New York. Everyone in Noma heard about Sophie Miller. I was secretly hoping to meet you, if I’m being honest. Not because I thought this would happen.” He squeezed her hand, a blush dancing across his cheeks. “But because I wanted to know who could impress Carmy. He really cleared up any notions I had about being the best chef when we worked together.”

“He sees the best in people,” she said after a bit. “I don’t think I’m particularly talented but he saw how hard I worked. He actually nudged me towards becoming a pastry chef. I think he saw how bad the stress of the dinner rush got to me.” She was lost in her thoughts again, about New York. About her friend who had helped her so much. Even in ways she didn’t know.

She had impressed on Carmy the importance of trying to make a name for himself. She had dragged him to a few events and had followed to his own James Beard award ceremony. She had made it her mission to repay all of the help he gave her by getting his name out there to everyone. She knew she could be good at it, the networking thing. And she knew Carmy hated it. And to be fair, he didn’t need the help, not really. His cooking spoke for itself. But if she could get people to go try the food, she knew it would help him in the long run. She hadn’t realized he’d done it for her too.

“He absolutely thinks you’re talented, by the way. He was so happy Marcus could learn from you,” she said, realizing she had nearly walked them past the park and turned them down another block.

“Marcus is a fantastic pastry chef. Carmy knows how to pick his people.” Sophie smiled at him and blushed as she felt him run his thumb up and down the back of her hand, still held in his.

They walked through the garden, her steps loud in her ears. She didn’t know what to say. She felt like they’d gotten quite close in only a little over 24 hours. She wasn’t excited about the prospect of him leaving. “I didn’t really want to move to Chicago, to be honest.” She found herself looking at the tiny garden, surprised at how few people were around on such a peaceful night. “I was finally finding happiness in San Diego. But it has its moments”, she said. “I do love this garden.” She remembered she hadn’t told him about her sister’s cancer. Hadn’t wanted to deal with being the sad girl, and yet here she was, being sad. She turned to him with a smile.

“Do you think you’ll stay in Copenhagen? Or are you going to return to London someday?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve found a restaurant I love and it is hard to want to leave that,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully.

“I understand that.” She smiled at him. The two had started walking again, over to the tiny corner park. “Want to go on the swings?” she asked when she saw no one was using them.

He grinned at her and agreed. She started leading him over and had an idea. “Race you there,” she said, dropping his hand and rushing forward, the sound of his laughter chasing after her.

She made it there with barely a second to spare before he reached her. She beamed up at him from her place on the swing. “I thought with those long legs you’d be a little faster,” she taunted him. He chuckled and pushed her swing before sitting on his own. She watched his feet drag across the ground on the swing until he lifted his legs.

“I think you might be too tall,” she laughed at him. He reached out and shoved her swing sideways causing her to swing away and then back, nearly bumping into him. She laughed. He reached over and dragged her to him for a kiss. She melted instantly, sighing as he pulled away, his free hand reaching up to cup her cheek.

“Tomorrow’s my last full day here,” he said, quietly. His eyes burning into hers.

She didn’t know what to say. She knew their time was limited, that this was it. But she supposed she hoped they’d somehow get away without saying goodbye. That they could just have this magical moment and walk away from it with some nice memories. She didn’t want to think about how much she’d have liked it to last longer. “What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked.

“I have to go see the Bean.” She laughed at him and he released his grip on her swing causing her to swing the opposite way. She kicked her feet out to stabilize herself. “Hey don’t laugh at me! I’m a tourist. I never got to do the touristy things when I worked here.” He paused. “I also wanted to go to the art museum. I like going to museums while I’m traveling,” he said.

“Do you want company?”

"Only if you're willing to be a tourist with me," he said, teasing edge to his voice. She smiled. Being a tourist with Luca sounded like a whole lot of fun.

Realizing they were running low on time, she stood and walked over to him, standing between his obnoxiously long legs. She grabbed onto the chains of the swings and stood looking down at him. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” she asked, pulling the swing toward her slightly.

She pressed her lips against his in what she planned as a quick peck but turned passionate, Luca leaning up into her, his mouth opening against hers causing tingles to shoot down her spine.

She forgot that she was holding the swing in place and let go to tangle her fingers in his hair. She realized a second too late what she'd done. He started swinging back and she stumbled towards him. He grabbed her around the waist and put his feet down harder, stopping the movement.

“Sorry. I forgot I was holding the swing.” She laughed breathlessly, holding herself up against his shoulders.

“I noticed.” He smirked up at her, his hands shifting from holding her up to sliding down her waist and holding her hips, taking her breath away.

“Come on.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him up, walking him away from the park and towards her home.

---

For the second day, she awoke wrapped in Luca’s arms, head buried in his chest, feeling warm and comfortable. She felt him stir underneath her and tried to stay still, not wanting to have to wake up just yet.

“Good morning.” His grumbly morning voice sounded from above her on the bed.

“Five more minutes,” she whined, wrapping her arms tighter around him. She felt him reach over and comb his fingers through her hair.

“I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon,” he said, his grin clear in his voice. His hand grazed down her shoulder and back and slowly slid back up. Warmth spread through her, feeling too comfortable. She sighed and relaxed into him.

I don’t want you to leave. She slid her hand up his side and burrowed her face into him, eyes shut. Two days of waking up with a warm, soft, sweet man in bed with her. She didn’t want to go back to waking up alone. She took a breath and forced herself to keep moving. “I suppose we should get ready. We have tourist stuff to do.”

“Can I make you breakfast first?” he asked.

She lifted her head to look up at him for the first time that morning, a smile on her face. “You want to cook for me?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes warm and soft. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he grinned wider watching her react. He rolled onto his side and tilted his head at her. “You do realize we are both lying naked in your bed, yeah? Why are you blushing about breakfast?”

She matched his posture, lying opposite him. “It’s just–” She hesitated a second. “You’re so– wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” he asked, his grin softening. Then he leaned forward and kissed her sweetly on her lips, then her nose, then her forehead. “That’s it. I’m making you breakfast.”

 ---

Luca stood in her kitchen in his rumpled clothes from the previous day. Coffee had just finished brewing and she was leaning against the kitchen island watching him cook for her.

She sipped her coffee and found herself watching Luca, his hands as he whipped some egg mixture in a bowl to make french toast. His hair flopped over his forehead, messy and perfect. She had the sudden urge to take a picture. She tried to be quiet, reached to the end of the counter with her phone and quietly took a picture of him. She put her phone down as he turned and he smirked at her.

“Did you take a picture of me?” He grinned and stepped over to her. She blushed. “I need a picture too then,” he said, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. He patted the island and she hopped up. He took a selfie of them, his arm wrapped around her, her cheeks still pink as she held the coffee mug between her hands. “Now let me work, yeah?” he said, before kissing her on the cheek and getting back to cooking.

---

Their afternoon was the picture of perfection. They walked around the museum, commenting on pieces of art as they went. Sophie would grab Luca’s hand and pull him to look at a painting before dropping it again. After the third time he grabbed her hand and wouldn’t let go.

Sophie flexed the one Art History class she took in college, pointing out pieces and movements she recognized. They eventually turned it into a game, pretending to be art critics talking about the works. Being a tourist with Luca was fun.

They took pictures at the Bean. Sophie made sure to get a few of them together. She wished again that this wasn’t about to end. That they could have time to actually date. She pushed the thought away. They lived in different countries, after all.

As they walked around they shared pieces of their lives. Sophie told him about her nieces, how she was excited to see them since they’d been gone for the past two weeks on a family vacation. How one of them, Cecily, was in her silly joke phase. She started sharing her favorites with Luca.

“I only know 25 letters of the alphabet. I don’t know ‘Y’.” she said, with a wide grin at her own joke. Luca chuckled and returned with his own silly jokes. And the two spent a while trying to make each other laugh.

Luca also told her about his family. His sister had married recently and was living outside of London. He hadn’t visited in over a year but was hoping to go back home soon. She learned about Luca as a teenager, who to her surprise and delight had an emo phase similar to her own. Their easy conversation made it harder for Sophie to think about the upcoming goodbyes.

“Thanks for all of this,” he said, as they walked down the path towards the fountain.

She grinned at him and grabbed his hand again. Don’t leave. The thought wouldn’t stop spiraling through her head. She hadn’t felt this happy in so long.

She knew some of it was her just avoiding thinking about everything else, giving herself a vacation from her life for a bit. But there was something about being with Luca that made her feel so happy. It just felt easy, in a way so few things did. Like things would turn out okay as long as he was there. She knew she wasn’t putting a very convincing smile on her face by the look Luca was giving her. “I’m trying not to be sad,” she admitted quietly.

He squeezed her hand. “Me too,” he said and she looked at him. “If you’d like, you could come visit me. I’d show you around Copenhagen,” he offered, quietly.

“Yes. I’d love that,” she responded, perhaps too eagerly. The idea that he wanted to see her again cheered her up so much she didn’t think about how that would work. And her immediate reaction seemed to cheer him up too. He grinned at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him.

They said goodbye at the subway station. Sophie got on her tiptoes to kiss him. As they pulled away, she put a hand to his chest. “It was lovely meeting you, Luca.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her, one more time. Slow and easy and perfect. “It was lovely meeting you, Sophie.” he said with a small grin. She smiled at him, knowing her cheeks were pink. Still feeling her heart jump the tiniest bit at the sound of him saying her name.

As she walked onto her train, she felt her phone buzz. He had sent her a joke. “I’m reading a book on anti-gravity.” 

Her phone buzzed again. “I can’t put it down.” 

She laughed and sent a text saying “loser 🤣 ”. And then, before she could talk herself out of it, sent "❤️". She put her phone back in her purse.

#chef luca x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear #the bear fanfic #chef luca x original character #carmy berzatto x original character

[youreacroftlara]

Chapter 5 of The Devil’s in the Details is LIVE! Here’s a preview snippet:

She meets up with her friends from work and gets ready to spend the next few hours distracting herself from thoughts of Ava and instead focusing on playing padel.

And she does just that; putting maximum effort into the way she hits her serves, and the way she slices the ball across the court with her backhand. The match is intense but fun, and for a while, Beatrice forgets all about her time in Switzerland. 

She teams up with Carlos and they win both matches by two sets to one. Maria and Pedro are a little disheartened by the loss, but overall they all enjoy the afternoon.

Afterwards, they decide to hang out and enjoy a few beers together, grabbing some tapas along the way.

The afternoon blends into the evening, and Beatrice doesn’t end up getting back to her apartment until 9 PM later that night — trust the Spanish to turn a casual drink into a mini tapas tour of some of Madrid's best restaurants and bars!

She puts her dirty workout gear in the wash and sets about feeding Marmalade. The cat wolfs down his kibble the second it touches his bowl and Beatrice has to stifle a laugh.

At least one of them is happy.

Beatrice prepares her things for work in the morning before she gets ready for bed. By the time she's under the covers, she’s all but ready to sleep. She momentarily checks her phone only to see she has a further three missed calls from the unknown number.

And okay, now she’s super pissed off. 

Scowling, Beatrice is just about to block them when out of nowhere, the unknown number dials again.

Frustration bubbling, Beatrice glances down at the vibrating phone in her hand and finally decides to answer the persistent caller. 

"Hello?" she practically snaps, her voice a mix of irritation and curiosity.

She expects to hear the tell-tale signs of a telecom scam or cold call echo through the speaker on her iPhone. However, nothing can prepare her for the reality of what really happens.

“Wow, you’re a hard woman to get a hold of.”

Whatever words Beatrice has dies on her tongue at the sound of the caller’s voice. Her throat dries up and her heart begins hammering in her chest as realization sinks in of who is on the other side of the line.

“A-Ava?” She asks in shock, finally managing to form words.

She hears a muffled chuckle. 

“Yeah Bea, it’s me.”

Read the full chapter here

#warrior nun #avatrice #ava silva #sister beatrice #the devil’s in the details #what if au #my writing #avatrice fanfic

[blam-marie]

Married to the Evil Wizard King - 02

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Read all currently published chapters (a whole 40 of them so far!) here on Tapas

All things considered, Autumn didn’t mind living in a land bordering the kingdom of a Dark Wizard King. It was the sort of thing that you just eventually got used to. ‘Oh, have you heard that all of the sheep in the south pasture have been eaten by evil spirits? I hope the farmers don’t raise their prices again, I was hoping to cook some lamb for the pot roast…’ That sort of thing. People just couldn’t live in fear all of the time, and the Dark King had been part of the decor for a thousand years, after all. He was even somewhat predictable; war would be followed by anger, then a bride, then a period of peace, and then war again. Rinse and repeat.

But just because she could tolerate his existence, that didn’t mean that she wanted to be married to the man. Or eaten, or used in a dark magic ritual, or whatever it was that he did with the women sent to him.

“You must see this as a betrayal,” said her mother as she fussed uselessly with the fastening of her cloak. She kept opening and closing the brooch at her daughter’s throat as if the exact fold of the woollen cloth could change anything about what would happen next.

It was a nice brooch, as such things went. It was round, made of brass and engraved with the head of a stag, with a small ruby inset in between its antlers. Her sister Spring had given it to her for her birthday some years back, and now she wished that her mother would stop touching it. The only reason she was even wearing her cloak at all was because the summer had been a cold one, and that was because — well, because the wizard was angry. The one that she was due to marry.

They were assembled on the edge of the woods, shivering in the wind. All of her belongings had been packed, most of it discarded. She wouldn’t need much where she was going. In a few minutes, one of the servants of the king would appear and take her into the dark recesses of the trees. From there on they would allegedly make their way to the Wizard King’s castle, and then supposedly she would get to meet him. Or the creature would quickly and quietly slice her throat a few miles into the woods and bring up her heart for his master to eat. There was no way to know, really.

“Of course not,” she deadpanned. “All the little girls dream of being sacrificed to the Evil Wizard King.”

“All the smart little girls know that it’s a possibility, at least,” snapped back her mother. “Instead of daydreaming about algebra.”

“Geometry,” she muttered. “I daydream about geometry and I make beautiful sewing patterns.”

“Yes,” sighed the queen, suddenly deflating. “And we could have found you a nice husband just on the strength of that skill. But I’ve not chosen you for the Wizard King for your sewing patterns, child. And I’ve not chosen you because you’re an obedient, demure little thing. I’ve chosen you because you’re a handful.”

“Wow. Thank you, Mother.”

Far away, the rustle of an approaching carriage could be heard coming from the woods. There was no road here, nor even a path between the trees. Thorny bushes were packed so tight on the edge of the woods that one might mistake them for a solid wall from afar. But Autumn had heard that the trees of the cursed forest could move, and that once one of the king’s creatures approached, branches and trunks would simply spring apart to let them pass. It might have been an interesting sight to see on any other day, if it had not meant the prelude for her death. The queen grabbed her cloak tighter and spoke with urgency.

“No, listen to me, my daughter. You are the most willful woman I’ve ever met. We hired a bard for your birthday, and you bit him.”

“He knows what he did,” she hissed, wondering where her mother was going with this.

“We taught you embroidery, and you used the needles to stab the scullery maid.”

“She was an assassin sent to kill you!”

“We showed you poetry, and you turned to mathematics instead.”

“I studied both!,” she felt compelled to point out. She knew what the poetry was for, it wasn’t like she’d just ignored it altogether.

“My point,” continued her mother, “is that you have never listened to anyone in your life and you will not listen to the Wizard King now.”

Autumn felt her eyebrows rise in surprise. “You want me to die faster? Is that what you want? I thought the whole point — ostensibly — was for me to cajole him into a marriage.”

“You will die regardless,” retorted her mother, brutal as she’d always been. “Whether you secure the marriage or not, whether now or in ten years. The bastard has killed my husband, and he will kill my daughter. It cannot be avoided, and I won’t feed you some hogwash about how your sacrifice will save the rest of your people. You already know all of that. What I am telling you now, instead, is that when your death is inevitable, you don’t have to go easy. Give him hell. And secure the marriage before he kills you, if you can.”

The rustling grew louder.

“Understand that your father failed, ten years ago. I am under significant pressure from the other kingdoms to make up for that failure in any way possible. But if I am going to send anyone into a rat’s nest, then I will send a viper. Remember what I told you before. Do not give in to him.”

Autumn nodded. Her mother was referring to the only other conversation that they’d had on the subject of her sacrifice to the Evil King after it had been announced.  The old woman had slipped into her bedroom after dusk to whisper urgently at her, as if the only real conversation she could have with her daughter had to be hidden in the dead of night, away from prying ears.

“Don’t let him touch you until your wedding night,” had been the brunt of her advice.

“Are we really still pretending that a marriage is going to happen?,” she’d spat, bruised and tired already at the thought of two months of trials and the reward of a certain death.

“You are about to enter a land where magic is real, and it has rules,” had cautioned her mother. “And one of the core rules of magic is that it works with what you give it. We are not pretending to the universe that a wedding will happen. We are telling it so.”

“Right. And as with any proper wedding, I have to go into it a proper maiden.”

“You haven’t been a proper maiden since you were of age,” had scorned her mother, and Autumn had felt her cheeks burn. The queen hadn’t been meant to know about the cook’s son. Or the viscount’s cousin. Or the knight(s).

“We are far past questions of propriety,” she had continued. “This is a matter of magic. Consumption is a powerful act. Once you eat of his land, you will belong to it. There is nothing we can do about that. You will be there for two months, and you have to feed yourself. But once you eat of him, you’ll belong to him, too. And you cannot allow that to happen before you’ve secured the wedding.”

“Right. Because…?”

“Because it involves a contract; and a contract signed on lands where the magic is alive and words become reality…” she had trailed off and raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

“… It will make his word unbreakable,” Autumn had breathed in realization. “You want me to make him swear us protection, out loud and on paper, during a sacred ceremony. While standing in a castle made out of magic. Shit. Okay.”

“Yes. And then I want you to seal the whole thing with the oldest, most powerful ritual at your disposal. I am not asking as your mother; I am asking as your queen. I want you to lure the Wizard King into a vow and to put the seal of your own body on it. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” she had told her mother honestly, mind reeling. “None of the other girls ever managed. But I can try.”

The fact that she might not even get the opportunity to try, or that she might not get a choice in the matter, had been such a clear evidence that neither of them had felt the need to point it out.

Her sisters had a different idea about things. The day after she had promised her mother that she wouldn’t spread her legs for the Wizard King until he’d wedded her in front of her whole family and kingdom, Summer and Winter had cornered her in the music room.

“You have to mount him the first chance you get,” had been their piece of advice.

It was a matter of magic, they had claimed, because all everyone ever wanted to talk about was magic. That, or sex. To be entirely honest, Autumn didn’t even know if sleeping with the Evil King was even a possibility in the first place. He had been alive for a thousand years! Maybe he wasn’t even human anymore, by now. Or he was really old.

In any case, Summer and Winter’s argument had been that if the Evil Wizard King was about to stake a claim on her, then her only option was to cut him off at the knees and stake a claim first. It would be a bold move, she had to admit. Like biting a cat that was about to bite you and then watching it try to process what had just happened. She might even have agreed with them, if it hadn’t been for the promise she’d just made her mother.

Still, it was an option to keep in the back pocket. Autumn liked having options. ‘Don’t die’ was an obvious one. ‘Stay a maiden’ might or might not be doable. ‘Mount the guy on his own evil wizard throne to make a point’ was terribly unsubtle, but at least she was reasonably sure that he wouldn’t see it coming.

As she stood on the edge of the forest waiting for her ride into hell to come and pick her up, Autumn reflected that this was probably not in any way, shape, or form what her mother meant when she said, ‘give the Dark King a hard time’. She tried to keep in a hysterical chuckle.

Hand in hand with Summer and Winter, she wished that their eldest sister, Spring, were here to say goodbye too. But she’d only recently given birth, and her husband (some chump of a duke) thought it too dangerous to bring their child near the forest. Never mind that the spirits hadn’t been seen for months. Never mind that she could have left the baby at home for a few minutes. Never mind that she would never see Autumn again, and that her child would never have the chance to meet his aunt now.

Never mind that Autumn was almost certainly going to die. But at least she would die with her head held high, after having given her best shot at securing a wedding vow out of the most evil man on the planet.

#married to the evil wizard king #writing #writing is hard #book update #dark romance #romantasy #dark romantasy #dark fairy tale #stories on tapas #free stories

[byelacey]

Congrats on the Tapas thing!! I’ve started re-reading (again) so you get all of the views (and because you said you’re re-drawing!) and can I just say- normal Lys is unnerving. Don’t know that man. Don’t think I like him.

omg thank you so much for doing that! i appreciate it a ton! also don't get TOO excited on the re-drawing aspect hah!! some re-drawing is happening, but mostly for pacing issues that seem to come up when i'm formatting the pages into a scrolling-style episode!

normal-eyes lys is coming for us all. he and moustache lys are teaming up

#asks #doodling-daisies

[jasfhercallejo]

Helm is an intimate, 24-seat restaurant is an expression of Chef Josh Boutwood’s life experiences and culinary training. Designed with a minimalist eye in palettes of black, copper, and grey. Helm’s dining experience centers Josh’s multi-course tasting menu and the one-on- one interaction between the kitchen and the guest.

At Helm, dining becomes theater, an interactive form of culinary performance art.

Our 10-course meal took inspiration from Magellan's voyage to the Philippines. It was a journey that took 1080 days compressed by Boutwood in just two delicious hours over ten mouthwatering bites. In a nutshell, it was an international menu, with each dish composed of flavours and ingredients from a country Magellan visited sewn altogether by the ingenuity of the talented chef.

Ember Manila is a charcoal grill specialty restaurant by Chef Josh Boutwood. Contrary to chef's other concept restaurants where the interior is somewhat masculine, Ember has done the opposite without deviating from its core element: no-frills, uncomplicated, and warm.

This restaurant in Makati has a modern space-like yet chic style, enough to make you feel at home and welcome. The cozy seats along the curved bar allow diners to witness the magic happening in the open kitchen. It also has a curated one-page menu categorized into small plates like tapas, large plates like family sharing dishes, side plates, and sweets to complete the ensemble. Chef Josh loves biodynamic and natural wines which you can order to pair with your meal.

We did not miss the chance to try chef's signature dish, the charcoal-grilled steak, and we loved it for the smoky char flavor and the locked in juiciness of the meat. 

Last but not the least, our 3rd Chef Josh Bautwood's restaurant here in Metro Manila, is Test Kitchen in Rockwell. Here, we celebrated my boyfriend's birthday with his mom (read: naks part of the family lol) and had an intimate dinner for three. We've only fancied trying fine dining tasting menus recently, and we learned that these kind of food require diner to slow down and savor the details; they took the time and only ask the same of you (key takeaway from Mark Mylod's The Menu, if you ask me haha)

Downstairs is where all the action is—get your minds out of the gutter—and where you can really see the kitchen’s cogs turning. But upstairs is where true magic takes place, especially if you’re a real nerd about food. The second floor is where they age the meats, ferment the ingredients and store the spices. This is where you can geek out on the fermented fruits and ingredients, house-made garum (fish sauce) and special spices.

We heard that Chef is opening a new restaurant named "The Dandy Lion" in Ayala Triangle Garden, and we are more than excited to try it once it opens its doors to the public.

#josh boutwood #food #fine dining

[curseoftheeel]

You are still loyal to Cameron, Matthew? Hey everyone, a new page, a new gross monster person to draw. I hope you all are doing well and I hope you enjoy this update.

Also, hopefully you saw last weeks update, apparently Tumblr thinks the last page had objectionable content and I can’t seem to appeal it (there wasn’t any, just a gross fish monster, no nudity or gore or nuthin). The same thing happened on Twitter, but I’m more annoyed with that here on this site. You can read it on Tapas though, which is probably the better comic reading experience.

Thank you as always for reading! If you're enjoying Curse of the Eel, please like, share, and follow the comic to help the story grow! We're getting more and more likes, which is awesome, and I'd like to hit more follower and like milestones this year. Have a great week and take care!

#curse of the eel #horror #comics #halloween #haunted house #inks #comic #indie #indie comics #illustration #ink #manga #weird #goth #goth girl #monster #fun

[heyitsjess-art]

Oh, hello there. Haven't seen you in a while. Hope you've been well! The next story update will be posted on the 1st of November! If you have forgotten what's happened in the story so far I would suggest going back so you're all caught up. For now, I hope you enjoy this little costume-themed short!

You can also read the series over on Webtoon or Tapas!

Prev - First - Next

#webcomic #webtoon #digital art #oc #original characters #Moonlighting #artist on tumblr #art

[futureagents]

Karner can fairly beat you up, but won’t (unless you’re a specific someone who also happens to be on this chart)

If you like sci-fi thriller webcomics, you might like Future Agents! Read it today on Webtoon Canvas, Tapas, or Dillyhub!

#alignment meme #webcomic memes #webcomic #webtoon canvas #my ocs #original characters #Future Agents #pilot-obvious #my characters are not always cinnamon rolls

[galaxia-art]

[image description: many misc panels from the webcomic someone always cares. end id]

happy webcomic day! if you’re in the market of looking for a new webcomic to read, then you’re in luck!

All Rami really wants to do is help people. From finding sparkly  serial killers to irritable classmates, he wouldn’t think twice about  offering to help, even at cost to himself. All Lewis wants to do  is to change himself, to be a better man. To do good. Being a vigilante  is an unconventional way of doing so, but. It’s a start. But sometimes to help others, you need to let yourself get help too.

Someone Always Cares is a superhero webcomic featuring a young superhero and his classmate, a rookie vigilante, as they both slowly get drawn into investigating a duo of serial killers specifically targeting those with superpowers.

SAC is a webcomic that i have been posting since 2017 and have been working on for a while longer and its my pride and joy! although i had to go on haitus in november last year due to everything happening at once (ranging from moving house, to taking my old landlord to court, to working on a seperate illustrator project, to getting top surgery! tomorrow ill be 6 weeks post surgery!) but i will be returning in june! no specific date just june and thats a promise!

given the gap, there may be some people following me who dont know i have a comic, or maybe they have read it and this is a good a time as any for a re-read!

either way please do check out my comic at @someone-always-cares! (also have a mirror on tapas but yknow how tumblr is with outside links, ill reblog it in a sec

#webcomic day #webcomicday #webcomic #self promo #comic #also i am planning on making an etsy! #i actually have everything ready and was good to open #BUT THEN CAME IN COVID WITH A STEEL CHAIR #so yeah my mum gave my covid but i tested negative yesterday #all the other stuff i was dealing with is also going well #move was good and am healing well and we won the court case

[sssfrs]

JOE IS DEAD update!  (Webcomic about pirates who find the dead body of their astronomer and they have to carry out his will).  Now that this is posted on tumblr instead of Twitter I can make the description much longer.  For this page I wrote a little thing about directionality at sea on the website for the comic but I’ll just put it here and you can learn a little bit about sailing: 

Did you know "port" and "starboard" used to be called "starboard" and "larboard", with the one starting in L as the "left" one, but it was changed because they sound too similar? I don't remember when or under what circumstances that change happened but you can probably look it up yourself using the computer. If you ever need to remember which one is port and which one is starboard (between right and left), you can remember because "starboard" has the same number of letters as the word "right".

Some other directional boat words that are a little less commonly known: You may have heard of bow (the front of a boat), and stern (the back of the boat), but did you know each side is called the "beam"? Just like you can say something is "astern" of your boat, you can say something is "abeam" when it's positioned to either side. Another way of saying "astern" is "abaft", but that can mean behind even if you're not all the way behind the whole ship. There's also the word "athwart" or "athwartships", which means something is positioned in a side-to-side way of the ship, rather than back to front. A square-rigged sail is oriented athwartships, while a fore-and-aft sail is oriented fore-and-aft.

Now that you know all that, I can tell you a joke that my friend Oscar made up: When is a wind not a wind? When it's abeam.

Now here’s link to where you can read this whole comic for free and you LOVE  it: Here is it

Also on Tapas and webtoon 

#sailing #boats #history #historical fiction #pirates #piracy #nautical #ocean #sea #webcomic #webcomics #pirate #seamanship #ship #ships #comic #comics #webtoon #webtoons #tapas #ofmd #indie comics #fandom #joe is dead #jid #gay pirates #philosophy #art #digital art #artist

[beastswithoutburdencomic]

Intermission 2!

Two of our new friends exhibit the cain instinct.

Aaaaand Case 2 of this webcomic is wrapped up! Thanks to all who've read and if you're curious about what this all is, link to the entire thing is down below! Heads up that we'll be taking a month off from proper uploads while we gear up for Case 3, but we've got some miscellaneous extra stuff comin up in the meantime!

Read it on webtoons // Read it on tapas

Click here for image IDs for all the comic pages so far.

Image IDs under the cutoff!

{Image ID: Two black and white comic pages,

In Page One,

The top left panel shows a panned out shot of the window above the RIVERA’S sign, giving a peek into the apartment above. There is a small satellite dish and a camera beside the sign. Through the window, we see a small view of the scene inside, with Wilbur’s back toward the camera as he faces Titi Rivera. Titi Rivera angrily says, “Do you have any idea of the trouble you’re in?”

“...” Wilbur meekly replies, “Yes, Titi.”

Angel is seen rushing by in the background.

The top right panel sets the reader inside of the apartment. We see part of Titi Rivera’s back and shoulder in the foreground as she looks at Wilbur, who sits slumped and guilty on the couch across from her. 

Titi Rivera exclaims, “Merchandise everywhere! Boxes broken!”

The middle panel shows a close up of Titi Rivera’s angry face as she exclaims, “Our shelving units aren’t cheap, you know!”

“Yes, Titi,” Wilbur says from off screen.

The bottom left panel shows a fuller body of Wilbur as he sits on a few throw pillows across from the viewer, guiltily looking at Titi Rivera. In the foreground, we see Titi Rivera’s hair as she scolds, “You’re lucky it was only those hunters! What would have happened if there were others in the store?” She raises a hand in exasperation as she continues, “Any of them could have been hurt! And then where does that leave us?”

In the bottom middle panel, Wilbur looks down, saying, “Sorry, Titi.”

In the foreground, we see Titi Rivera’s face in profile as she turns her head and pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

In the background, we see Angel’s back as he rushes toward the window, hands gripping the handles. He’s no longer wearing his jacket, and there are slits in the back of his shirt.

In the bottom right panel, Angel interrupts the scolding by turning his head and shouting, “TITI!” Wilbur gives a wordless shriek and jumps as Angel throws open the window, mushrooms growing out of his ears. Angel continues shouting, “Holy fuck I need to GO-”

In the foreground, we see most of Titi’s face. Her brows furrow, face twisting at the language her nephew is spouting.

In Page Two,

In the foreground of the top left panel, we see part of Angel’s chest and arm as he moves. In the background, we see Titi Rivera and Wilbur still settled on their opposite couches. Wilbur looks over his shoulder with a comically blank expression, mushrooms having grown a little smaller. Titi Rivera says, “Language!”

Then, with a measured expression, Titi says, “And fine, just- take Wilbur.”

The top right panel shows everyone in the same positions, except now, Titi Rivera puts a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. Wilbur gives a comically shocked expression, the mushrooms in his ears disappearing, as Angel says in the foreground, “I- what?” 

“He’ll be working for us for now on.” Titi Rivera explains, and Angel’s hand curls.

The middle panel shows a zoomed out view of Angel behind the couch Wilbur sits on, still standing in front of the window. Wilbur turns to look at Angel. 

Titi Rivera tells Angel, “Make sure you show him the ropes once you get back!”

She begins to exit, and we partially see her self-satisfied expression in the foreground as she starts to get up.

Two free floating panels float in front of the empty side of the middle panel. In one is a close up of Angel’s face, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line as he stares at Wilbur. In the other is a close up of Wilbur’s face as he looks over his shoulder at Angel and makes a near identical expression, his eyes glowing faintly mauve.

They are silent.

In the bottom panel, Angel immediately attempts to jump out of the window. 

We see Wilbur’s back as he hops over the back of the couch and wraps his arms around Angel’s waist, one hand balled in a fist. Angel’s hands are balled into fists as he struggles against Wilbur’s hold, and it’s unclear whether Wilbur is trying to drag Angel inside or force Angel to take him with him out the window.

Several blank, spiked speech bubbles floating around them show that they’ve begun to yell at each other immediately.

A text box with an arrow reads, “To be continued…”

End ID.}

#tapas webcomic #webtoon #webcomic #webtoon comic #original comic #original fiction #bwbcomic #black and white

[insipid-drivel]

driv, im dying bc im the one who has to write the rest of this🥲 but also i keep going like "did i actually write this"

Keep going! Just power through. Put on the right music - and if your playlist isn’t helping you with the topic itself, put on something that gets YOU feeling creative and ready to make stuff happen and switch back when you feel it even if it’s not the right vibe for the piece - and just plow through! One of the great things about getting exasperated and lost in writing a chapter or segment that takes a while is that, when you’re done, you’ve dumped SO much effort into it that it’s pretty easy to forget how well the work is pieced together. Get it to where you can say, “Okay, I’m done with this part.”

Don’t look back. Don’t refer to the start or middle of the segment you’re writing. Just keep going until you’re at a reasonable point where you could call it done, or keep writing if you wanted to. Deny yourself the pleasure of seeing what you’ve already managed to get written. Edge yourself to the climax (of the plot).

Then, when you’re ready to plop that baby into wherever you like to post - AO3, Tapas, Patreon, etc. - into the box where the piece goes. Click Preview.

Now read. Without the blue, green, and red “edit me” squiggles from the software you use in the way, you should hopefully magically find yourself scrutinizing your writing a lot less and enjoying it a lot more. By doing this, you’re not a writer anymore; you’re now off the clock. You’re not being a narcissist. Read your own work in the spirit of enjoying it for yourself, not for anyone else, and make a judgment call on if you’re happy with it, or if there are things you want to change, erase, or reorganize. Especially if you’re writing some premium smut about your premium blorbos, cramming your unedited work into a Preview page will take your thinky-brain out of the mix.

You’re a good writer. You have it in you. Just listen closely to what your gut tells you. Do whatever it is you need to do to knock your “is this good enough?” anxiety in the kneecaps and enjoy. your. self. If there’s something glaringly off or simply doesn’t mesh well with the scene, your tastes as a reader will point that out to you much more clearly than your tastes as a writer will.

#thedietelf