50 shades of Styles

Chapter 22: Doncaster

I am manicured, massaged, and I’ve had two glasses of champagne. The First Class lounge has many redeeming features. With each sip of Moet, I feel slightly more inclined to for­give Harry and his intervention. I open up my MacBook, hoping to test the theory that it works anywhere on the planet.
F

rom: Louis Tomlinson
Subject: Over-Extravagant Gestures
Date: May 30 2013
To: Harry Styles
Dear Mr. Styles
What really alarms me is how you knew which flight I was on.
Your stalking knows no bounds. Let’s hope that Dr. Flynn is back from vacation.
I have had a manicure, a back massage, and two glasses of champagne – a very nice start to my vacation.
Thank you.
Lou
From: Harry Styles
Subject: You’re Most Welcome
Date: May 30 2013 21:59
To: Louis Tomlinson
Dear Mr Tomlinson
Dr. Flynn is back, and I have an appointment this week.
Who was massaging your back?
Harry Styles
CEO with friends in the right places, Styles Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Aha! Pay back time. Our flight has been called so I shall email him from the plane. It will be safer. I almost hug myself with mischievous glee.
There is so much room in first class. Champagne cocktail in hand, I settle myself into the sumptuous leather window seat as the cabin slowly fills. I call Mark to tell him where I am – a mercifully brief call, as it’s so late for him.
“Love you, Dad,” I murmur.
“You too, Lou. Say hi to your mum. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” I hang up.
Mark is in good form. I stare at my Mac and with the same childish glee building. Opening my laptop, I log into the email program.
From: Louis Tomlinson
Subject: Strong Able Hands
Date: May 30 2013 22:22
To: Harry Styles
Dear Sir
A very pleasant young man massaged my back. Yes. Very pleasant indeed. I wouldn’t have encountered Jean-Paul in the ordinary departure lounge – so thank you again for that treat.
I’m not sure if I’ll be allowed to email once we take off, and I need my beauty sleep since I’ve not been sleeping so well recently.
Pleasant dreams Mr. Styles … thinking of you.
Lou
Oh, he’s going to flip out – and I shall be airborne and out of reach. Serves him right. If I’d been in the ordinary departure lounge then Jean-Paul wouldn’t have gotten his hands on me. He was a very nice young man, in a blonde, perma-tanned way – honestly, who has a tan in London? It’s just so wrong. I think he was straight – but I’ll just keep that detail to myself. I stare at my email. Zayn is right. It is like shooting fish in a barrel with him. My subconscious stares at me with an ugly twist to her mouth – do you really want to wind him up? What he’s done is sweet, you know! He cares about you and wants you to travel in
style. Yes, but he could have asked me or told me. Not made me look like a complete klutz at check-in. I press send and wait, feeling like a very naughty girl.
“Mr Tomlinson, you’ll need to stow your laptop for take-off,” the over-made-up flight attendant says politely. She makes me jump. My guilty conscience is at work.
“Oh, sorry.”
Crap. Now I’ll have to wait to know if he’s replied. She hands me a soft blanket and pillow, showing her perfect teeth. I drape the blanket over my knees. It’s nice to feel mol­lycoddled sometimes.
The cabin has filled up, except for the seat beside me which is still unoccupied. Oh no… a disturbing thought crosses my mind. Perhaps the seat is Harry’s. Oh shit… no… he wouldn’t do that. Would he? I told him I didn’t want him to come with me. I glance anxiously at my watch and then the disembodied voice from the flight deck an­nounces,
“Cabin crew, doors to automatic and cross check.”
What does that mean? Are they closing the doors? My scalp prickles as I sit in pal­pitating anticipation. The seat next to me is the only unoccupied one in the sixteen-seat cabin. The plane jolts as it pulls away from its stand, and I breathe a sigh of relief but feel a faint tingle of disappointment too… no Harry for four days. I take a sneak peek at my BlackBerry.
From: Harry Styles
Subject: Enjoy it While You Can
Date: May 30 2013 22:25
To: Louis Tomlinson
Dear Mr Tomlinson
I know what you’re trying to do – and trust me – you’ve succeeded. Next time you’ll be in the cargo hold, bound and gagged in a crate. Believe me when I say that attending to you in that state will give me so much more pleasure than merely upgrading your ticket.
I look forward to your return.
Harry Styles
Palm-Twitching CEO, Styles Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Holy crap. That’s the problem with Harry’s humor – I can be never be sure if he’s joking or if he’s seriously angry. I suspect on this occasion he’s seriously angry. Surrepti­tiously, so the flight attendant can’t see, I type a reply under the blanket.
From: Louis Tomlinson
Subject: Joking?
Date: May 30 2013 22:30
To: Harry Styles
You see – I have no idea if you’re joking – and if you’re not – then I think I’ll stay in Doncaster. Crates are a hard limit for me.
Sorry I made you mad.
Tell me you forgive me.
Lou
From: Harry Styles
Subject: Joking
Date: May 30 2013 22:31
To: Louis Tomlinson
How can you be emailing? Are you risking the life of everyone on board, including your­self, by using your BlackBerry? I think that contravenes one of the rules.
Harry Styles
Two Palms Twitching CEO, Styles Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Two palms! I put my BlackBerry away, sit back while the plane taxis to the runway, and pull out my tattered copy of Tess – some light reading for the journey. Once we’re air­borne, I tip my seat back, and soon I’m drifting off to sleep.
The flight attendant wakes me as we start our descent into Manchester but I’ve only had four hours sleep or so… I feel groggy, but grateful for the glass of orange juice she hands me. I glance nervously at my BlackBerry. There are no further emails from Harry. He probably wants to discourage me from screwing up the avionics system, or whatever prevents planes from flying if mobile phones are switched on.
The wait in Manchester is only an hour. And again I’m luxuriating in the confines of the first class lounge. I am tempted to curl up and go to sleep on one of the plush, inviting couches that sink softly under my weight. But it will just not be long enough. To keep myself awake, I start a long steam of consciousness to Harry on my laptop.
From: Louis Tomlinson
Subject: Do you like to scare me?
Date: May 31 2013 06:52
To: Harry Styles
You know how much I dislike you spending money on me. Yes, you’re very rich, but still it makes me uncomfortable, like you’re paying me for sex. However, I like traveling first class, it’s so much more civilized than coach. So thank you. I mean it – and I did enjoy the massage from Jean Paul. He was very straight. I omitted that bit in my email to you to wind you up, because I was annoyed with you, and I’m sorry about that.
But as usual you overreact. You can’t write things like that to me – bound and gagged in a crate – (Were you serious or was it a joke?) That scares me… you scare me… I am completely caught up in your spell, considering a lifestyle with you that I didn’t even know
existed until last Saturday week, and then you write something like that and I want to run screaming into the hills. I won’t, of course, because I’d miss you. Really miss you. I want us to work, but I am terrified of the depth of feeling I have for you and the dark path you’re leading me down. What you are offering is erotic and sexy, and I’m curious, but I’m also scared you’ll hurt me – physically and emotionally. After three months you could say goodbye, and where will that leave me if you do? But then I suppose that risk is there in any relationship. This just isn’t the sort of relationship I ever envisaged having, especially as my first. It’s a huge leap of faith for me.
You were right when you said I didn’t have a submissive bone in my body… and I agree with you now. Having said that, I want to be with you, and if that’s what I have to do, I would like to try, but I think I’ll suck at it and end up black and blue – and I don’t relish that idea at all.
I am so happy that you have said that you will try more. I just need to think about what ‘more’ means to me, and that’s one of the reasons why I wanted some distance.
You dazzle me so much I find it very difficult to think clearly when we’re together.
They are calling my flight. I have to go.
More later
Your Lou
I press send and make my way sleepily to the departure gate to board a different plane. This one has only six seats in first class, and once we are in the air, I curl up under my soft blanket and fall asleep.
All too soon, I’m woken by the flight attendant offering me more orange juice as we begin our approach to Doncaster Airport. I sip slowly, beyond fatigued, and I allow myself to feel a modicum of excitement. I’m going to see my mother for the first time in six months. Sneaking another covert look at my BlackBerry, I remember vaguely that I sent a long rambling email to Harry – but there’s nothing in response. It’s five in the morning in London – hopefully he’s still asleep and not up playing mournful laments on his piano.
The beauty of carry-on rucksacks is that one can breeze out of the airport and not wait endlessly for baggage at the carousels. The beauty of traveling first class is that they let you off the plane first.
My mum is waiting with Dan, and it is so good to see them. I don’t know if it’s because of exhaustion, the long journey, or the whole Harry situation, but as soon as I’m in my mother’s arms, I burst into tears.
“Oh Lou, honey. You must be so tired.” She glances anxiously at Dan.
“No Mum, it’s just – I’m so pleased to see you.” I hug her tightly.
She feels so good and welcoming and home. Reluctantly, I relinquish her, and Dan gives me an awkward one-armed hug. He seems unsteady on his feet, and I remember that he’s hurt his leg.
“Welcome back, Lou. Why you cryin’?” he asks.
“Aw, Dan, I’m just pleased to see you too.” I stare up into his handsome square-jawed face, and his twinkling blue eyes that gaze at me fondly. I like this husband, Mum. You can keep him. He takes my backpack.
“Jeez, Lou, what have you got in here?”
That will be the Mac, and they both put their arms around me as we head for the park­ing lot.
I always forget how unbearably hot it is in Doncaster. Leaving the cool air-conditioned confines of the arrival terminal, we step into the Doncaster heat like we’re wearing it. Whoa! It saps everything. I have to struggle out of Mum and Dan’s embrace so I can remove my hoodie. I am so glad I packed shorts. By the time I’m in the back of Dan’s wonderfully air-conditioned Tahoe SUV, I feel limp, and my hair has started a frizzy protest at the heat. In the back of the SUV I quickly text Mark, Zayn, and Harry:
*Arrived Safely in Doncaster. L :)*
My thoughts stray briefly to Niall as I press send, and through the fog of my fatigue, I remember that it’s his show next week. Should I invite Harry knowing how he feels about Niall? Will Harry still want to see me after that email? I shudder at the thought, and then put it out of my mind. I’ll deal with that later. Right now I am going to enjoy my mum’s company.
“Honey, you must be tired. Would you like to sleep when we get home?”
“No, Mum. I’d like to go to the beach.”
I am in my blue board shorts, sipping a Coke, on a sun bed facing the ocean. My mother lounges beside me in a ridiculously large floppy sun hat and Jackie O shades, sipping a Coke of her own. We are on a beach which is only a few miles from home. She holds my hand. My fatigue has waned, and as I soak up the sun, I feel comfortable, safe, and warm. For the first time in forever, I start to relax.
“So Lou… tell me about this man who has you in such a spin.”
Spin! How can she tell? What to say? I can’t talk about Harry in any great detail because of the NDA, but even then, would I choose to talk to my mother about it? I blanch at the thought.
“Well?” she prompts and squeezes my hand.
“His name’s Harry. He’s beyond handsome. He’s wealthy… too wealthy. He’s very complicated and mercurial.”
Yes – I feel inordinately pleased with my concise, accurate summary. I turn on my side to face her, just as she makes the same move. She gazes at me with her crystal-clear blue eyes.
“Complicated and mercurial are the two pieces of information I want to concentrate on, Lou.”
Oh no…
“Oh, Mum, his mood-swings make me dizzy. He’s had a grim upbringing, so he’s very closed, difficult to gauge.”
“Do you like him?”
“I more than like him.”
“Really?” She gapes at me.
“Yes, Mum.”
“Men aren’t really complicated, Lou, honey. They are very simple, literal creatures. They usually mean what they say. And we spend hours trying to analyze what they’ve said – when really it’s obvious. If I were you, I’d take him literally. That might help.”
I gape at her. This sounds like good advice. Take Harry literally. Immediately some of the things he’s said spring into my mind.
I don’t want to lose you…
You’ve bewitched me…
You’ve completely beguiled me…
I’ll miss you too… more than you know…
I gaze at my mum. She is on her fourth marriage. Maybe she does know something about men after all.
“Most men are moody darling, some more than others. Take your father for in­stance…,” Her eyes soften and sadden whenever she thinks of my dad. My real dad, this mythical man I never knew, snatched so cruelly from us in a combat training accident when he was a marine. Part of me thinks my mum has been looking for someone like my dad all this time… maybe she’s finally found what she’s looking for in Dan. Pity she couldn’t find it with Mark.
“I used to think your father was moody. But now when I look back, I just think he was too caught up in his job and trying to make a life for us.” She sighs. “He was so young, we both were. Maybe that was the issue.”
Hmm… Harry is not exactly old. I smile fondly at her. She can become very soul­ful thinking about my father, but I’m sure he had nothing on Harry’s moods.
“Dan wants to take us out tonight for dinner. To his golf club.”
“Oh no! Dan’s started playing golf?” I scoff in disbelief.
“Tell me about it,” groans my mother, rolling her eyes.
After a light lunch back at the house, I start to unpack. I am going to treat myself to a nap. My mother has disappeared to mold some candles or whatever she does with them, and Dan is at work, so I have time to catch up on some sleep. I open the Mac and fire it up. It’s two in the afternoon. I wonder if I have a reply from Harry. Nervously, I log into the email program.
From: Harry Styles
Subject: Finally!
Date: May 31 2013 07:30
To: Louis Tomlinson
Louis
I am annoyed that as soon as you put some distance between us, you communicate openly and honestly with me. Why can’t you do that when we’re together?
Yes, I’m rich. Get used to it. Why shouldn’t I spend money on you? We’ve told your father I’m your boyfriend, for heaven’s sake. Isn’t that what boyfriends do? As your Dom, I would expect you to accept whatever I spend on you with no argument. Incidentally, tell your mother too.
I don’t know how to answer your comment about feeling like a whore. I know that’s not what you’ve written, but it’s what you imply. I don’t know what I can say or do to eradi­cate these feelings. I’d like you to have the best of everything. I work exceptionally hard, so I can spend my money as I see fit. I could buy you your heart’s desire, Louis, and I want to. Call it redistribution of wealth if you will. Or simply know that I would not, could not ever think of you in the way you described, and I’m angry that’s how you perceive yourself. For such a bright, witty, beautiful young man you have some real self-esteem issues, and I have a half a mind to make an appointment for you with Dr. Flynn.