Appeal Denied

2015-NYC-09: Addendum

August 4, 2015

"Brains?" he asked as we came up for air after tangling our tongues for minutes, hours, days, weeks, years.

"Hmmmmm?" I murmured.

"The music stopped," he whispered, kissing me on the nose and rising from the sofa to shuffle across the floor in his Chelsea boots towards the stereo. Scrolling through my CD collection, Harry chose Who Are You by The Who, and the first song (adorably titled "New Song") began playing. Facing me, he shook his ass and pulled off his Chelsea boots before dancing goofily in my direction. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. Such a dork.

When he arrived, he pulled me from the sofa, twisting my arms this way and that so that I was "dancing" with him. He got into the movement, so I kicked off my shoes and really went at it too, throwing as many crazy shapes as I could until we were both laughing and sweaty. Falling onto the sofa, I put my feet up on the coffee table as Harry landed next to me, sitting sideways with his arm draped over the back of the sofa. Reaching forward with his right hand, he peeled a piece of hair from my cheek, tucking the blonde strand behind my ear.

"Thanks for that, Brains. That was fun. Most people just give me crap about my dancing," his face displayed the gravity of feeling, and my heart broke for him. My dancing isn't great, but rarely does anyone watch me. Harry, on the other hand, had millions of eyes on his dance moves most of the time.

I wanted to kiss him, and I didn't fight the urge. Instead I pushed my face into his, melding our lips together in a searing kiss that didn't last long, but was meant to reassure.

His soft smile afterwards made me feel gooey inside. "What did you think of the concert?" he asked, and I ducked my head to conceal my expression from him.

But there was no hiding from Harry that night. With two fingers under my chin, he brought my face up until we were making eye contact. "The truth please, counselor."

With a sigh, I licked my lips. "Okay, but don't be mad at me!" Taking a deep breath, I plunged in, "The other boys were lazy. They just stood there at their microphones. You were the only one really dancing around and engaging the crowd. No wonder you want to go solo."

He tightened his lips then, and his jaw clenched.

"What?" I huffed, "I knew you would be mad, but that's what I saw. One superstar and three mediocre singers," I was defensive, and I knew it, but there was no way I could unsee what I had watched that morning.

"Those three singers are important to me," he insisted.

"Mhm. I get that," I stated, watching his green eyes closely. One of the reasons I make a good lawyer is that I can read people's eyes and facial expressions. "But does that mean you shouldn't go off on your own? You don't need to be tied to them forever. There's a shelf life for boy bands. For most bands actually."

He blew air out of his lungs, and I watched him fold over like a rag doll, his shoulders drooping as he relaxed his protective posture. He pulled his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, watching me warily.

"Jeff says the same," he finally offered. "Honestly, I'll always be grateful for the boys and our start because there's no way I'd be in the position to even consider a solo career without One Direction. But it's hard, you know? To leave the nest. What if I suck?"

My brain spun with his words, and my heart hurt for him. "How can you think that? I watched YOU today, Harry. Not the others. My friend may have been there for the blond one, but I was there for you. And you have it. That star power. You're going to have an amazing solo career."

He swallowed, his eyes fixed on his hands in his lap. "You really think so?"

That time, I had been the one to grasp his chin and raise his face to lock eyes with me. "I know so, Harry."