The Weeks Between • HS

Week 23: Part 1 • Nola *

After the little stunt he pulled while I was on the phone with Helen, Harry has been the perfect gentleman. I had propped my feet up on his lap while we rode through the turbulence we were told about. For the last however hour, he has been rubbing them non-stop as my eyelids and I have a continual disagreement about their ability to stay open. "Darling, just rest," he nearly begs, reaching for a remote to dim the lights in the cabin. "We'll be there before you know it." The combination of his firm, but gentle, movements over my feet and lower legs draw the final ounce of resistance from my willpower to stay awake and I drift into a blissful dream state.

When I wake up, it's because the hands that were rubbing my feet and lower legs are now creeping up my thigh and squeezing harder. That is paired with Harry's scent growing closer to me as he whispers in a low grovel, "Nol, love, we are about to land." I'll never tire of being roused by him from one form of dream to wake up to another. Jesus, this man is so fucking gorgeous.

He's even gorgeous with his hair clipped up all messily and his sweatshirt drawstrings tied in a neat bow. Who does that? What if I just reach over and... He looks down to watch my lazy fingers untie the black string on his Columbia sweatshirt. "What are you doing?"

"Making you less of a loser. Nobody ties these," I say and he scoffs, taking the strings from me and retying them.

"I do. I like the feeling of the hood up behind my neck. It doesn't stay unless you tie them." He seems to scrunch his shoulders up and he smiles at the feeling of the softness of said hood once it's again encasing him. All I can do is smile because I can't exactly argue with his logic. How annoying. Now it's just another thing to love about him.

He stands up from his position bent over my body in the seat and offers an outstretched hand for me to take now that we have touched down and parked. "What time is it?"

"Around 1am."

"So, being exhausted is an acceptable feeling at the moment?"

"It's always an acceptable feeling. You've had a long week."

"I've had a long year, Harry," I respond with a sigh and he pulls me close. Close enough to smell that mixture of citrus with a woody vanilla scent, a scent that is one of a few that completely calms me while simultaneously making my lady bits tingle.  He pulls the hood up on my sweatshirt, and ties the ends of my drawstrings with a smirk before putting his own hood up. "Pictures?" I ask, wondering about the reason for the coverup.

"Maybe. There's always a chance. So, we won't give them anything." He hands me a pair of his large thick-rimmed sunglasses.

"It's the middle of the night?"

"They don't care," he replies dryly, setting his own glasses on the bridge of his nose and gathering a bag from behind him. "Oh, and we have security with us this week. Paddy will be there to drive us, at least sometimes, and also hopefully keep us away from prying eyes."

Having security along is a first. I thought it strange when we went with the girls on our last trip that he didn't have any, but apparently this time it's different? "Why this time?"

"Because you don't want to be front page news. People are getting more aggressive because they know you exist but don't know who you are. Back then, you didn't even exist so nobody was paying attention."

"Pretty sure I still existed then. And we were in Italy then, too. I have the scars on my back from our wine cellar moment to prove it," I remind him and he snickers at the memory.

"No. What I mean is that to the world, the media world, you didn't exist yet. A mystery girl exists now, so the vultures will be circling."

"Well that just made this trip sound so romantic," I joke, picking up my bag before Harry lifts it off my shoulder to carry it with his. I try to take it back and he stops me instantly.