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The Marigold flower represents a passion, a creativity, but underneath the beauty of such an alluring flower, it is difficult to ignore the cruelty, the jealousy and the grief.
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This has definitely been an interesting night and I'm beginning to think Harry is just a bit more than tolerable. He was pleasant, and I had a lot of wine.
We had lots of good wine and good food. I mean how could it not have been a good night? And now he was taking me out into London at 10pm trying to find a tree in this park. Why he wants to find the perfect tree, I am yet to find out.
So now here we are, walking through the streets in silence, a few glances and smirks at each other, just pondering at how random and spontaneous this is.
I'd love to know what my Mum would think of 'Marigold'. She would love all the bold and vibrant choices Harry is making, her fashion column would just be full of him and 'Marigold'.
We get to the centre of what looks like Hyde Park. I didn't realise how long or far we'd been walking for, but I guess we're in Hyde Park now.
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Harry has had 'Dreams' on repeat since we left the restaurant, just humming to himself and smoking his fifth cigarette. Not really five though, I stole two of them and we are sharing this last one.
It was refreshing. We'd both come to this silent agreement we weren't here to bond or share our darkest secrets or fall madly in love with each other. We were just enjoying the other's company, smoking, and stumbling drunk through the city.
Okay, I was the only one that was drunk, but I had a lot of wine, different wine, what did he expect?
So now we were wandering through a park, looking for something very specific.
All of a sudden, he stops walking with his eyes focused on a tree, squinting clearly starting to figure something out in his head.
I think he is more drunk than he realises because he starts smirking at me and jogging towards the tree, his curls bouncing behind him.
What the fuck is he doing?
He puts the cigarette out and turns to look at me as I finally catch up with him.
"You need to climb up that tree." He smiles, knowing this is fucking insane.
"Do I look like fucking spider monkey? That's like 7 feet high." Although my tone is harsh, he knows I'm being sarcastic.
"I'll give you a step up."
Fucks sake.
I guess I'm climbing up a fucking tree then.
I kick off my heels for the second time today and walk over to Harry. He bends down onto one knee and gestures me to put my hands on his shoulders, his eyeline directly in line with the waistband of my pants. His eyes linger there for a minute before looking up to me.
