Pirouette [h.s.]

chapter 30

// I could see this view a hundred times.

Pale blue sky reflected in your eyes. //

"Run" -Taylor Swift (feat. Ed Sheeran)

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"Hi pretty baby, happy Valentine's Day, pack up a bag for the weekend, we're leaving as soon as I get home. I love you."

A phone call from Harry that lasted exactly 47 seconds. I barely had time to sputter out an "I love you too" before he had hung up.

Part of me wanted to call back and question everything but, knowing Harry, he wouldn't tell me and he wouldn't take no for an answer, anyway. So, instead, I pulled myself off of the couch into his bedroom to pack a bag.

I realized, very quickly, that I had no idea what to pack, seeing as he didn't give me any details, so I threw in just about everything I had at his house. By the time I finished, I had a suitcase and a large duffel bag bulging at the seams for this apparent weekend getaway, and I groaned into my palms knowing that Harry was going to make fun of me for it.

Sure enough, the very first thing Harry did once he got home was laugh so hard I swore he was going to piss himself. I wanted to be mad, but his face was brighter than I'd seen it all week, endless light bouncing from the apples of his cheeks and beaming from the indentions of his dimples.

I just rolled my eyes in response, "Asshole. You didn't give me any details."

He reached out to pinch my side before raising a hand to his chest in mock offense, "You never asked, my dear." He paused, lifting up my bags. "Are you ready for an adventure, Bee?" Excitement dripped from his words like honey and I had to fight the beginnings of a smile.

Smiles were still few and far between, and I always felt a twinge of guilt bloom in my stomach when they made their way through. Harry didn't seem to mind, as he adjusted the duffel on his shoulder and took my hand in his.

The drive had been pretty uneventful, thus far, a calm, comfortable silence between us as faint music traveled from the radio. He had told me, once we started driving, that we had about four hours on the road and that we weren't going to the hotel first.

I smacked his arm once he told me that, as I was dressed in an old pair of tiny running shorts and one of his faded band tees. But Harry was quick to reassure me that I was dressed appropriately and that I "look sexy as shit, even with the clunky boot." I couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped my lips at his words and I found myself biting my tongue to stop it. I didn't think Harry had noticed, but when I watched the corner of his lip drop down and his eyebrows furrow together, I knew he must have.

With about thirty miles to go, Harry's singing at the top of his lungs to "Tiny Dancer," as our surroundings continue to get thicker and taller. He glances over at me mid-song, shooting a sign of I love you before he clears his throat, and turns down the music, "I guess it's about time I explain, huh?"

"Yes please." I nod. My good leg is folded up underneath me, the boot resting against the floor, and when I shift to look at Harry, he's giving me a pointed look to uncross them because 'you could break your leg doin' that, honeybee.'

He reaches his thumb up to blindly stroke my cheek, "I figured we needed some time to just relax and be together after everything that's happened," My heart twists at his words, the pang of guilt stabbing straight through my chest. "which is why I booked us a couple nights at a little cabin in the Sequoias."

My body fills with warmth, like it always does with Harry, at his admission. "You didn't have to do that. Thank you."

He's right - we desperately need some time to recuperate and connect to each other after I pushed him to the side. After Nate's seizure. After...everything.