Something Great

Chapter 15

Natalie's POV

As we head west down Charleston Ave and pass the Red Rock Scenic Loop, I begin to suspect where he's taking me. Sure enough, we start heading down the winding road leading to the Spring Mountain Ranch State Park. The park is known for hosting a variety of events, from plays and musicals, to film festivals. Passing the marquee sign that marks the entrance to the park, I see an announcement for a "Brat Pack Weekend Movie Marathon. Sunday Night Double Feature: Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club. I resist the urge to squeal and throw myself into his lap. I finally turn to him, unable to control the grin on my face. Sensing my gaze, he looks my way, his answering smile adorably bashful. "Well, I didn't reckon there'd be a huge sign out front. So...surprise!" To this, I laugh loudly. I can't resist planting an impulsive kiss on his cheek. "Hey now," he admonishes, "none of that until after our date." Sitting back, I can't help but gape at him incredulously. He's actually serious. Glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, he presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Pulling into a spot and putting the car in park, he finally turns to me, some of the cheekiness now gone. "While I'd love for us to curl up under one of those trees back there and snog our faces off," he starts in, swallowing audibly, "I know that you understand why we can't. Right?" He takes one of my hands and drawing it to his lips, gently kisses my fingertips, before looking up at me from under his lashes, his expression nervously hopeful. Shit. Of course I get it. After today, I get it really well actually. I feel a rush of momentary guilt - I haven't told Harry about what happened earlier at the outlet mall. There's part of me that can't help but feel that I'm keeping something from him that he'd want to know. At the same time, what would he do with the information? No matter how I say it, it's gonna come across as me complaining about something that I claimed to understand. Something that he has no real control over. Sighing, I reach out to him with my other hand, delicately brushing my fingertips over his cheek. He closes his eyes and seems to lean into my touch a bit. Smiling softly, I finally respond, "Yeah Harry, I know why we can't." Unable to stay away, I grip his shirt and tug him to me, for one last kiss. His eyes are as wide as his grin when I pull away. Shaking his head in mock consternation, he mutters, "wanton creature. Control yourself!" Rolling my eyes, I laugh as we both get out of the car. Harry grabs a few blankets and a picnic basket out of the trunk, and we head up the hill.

After paying for our tickets, he zeroes in on a spot under a beautiful desert pine, laying the blankets down and bowing gallantly, gesturing for me to make myself comfortable. He's so cute sometimes I can't stand it. Opening up the basket, he produces a small feast, with fruit, cheese, olives, crackers, chocolate, and wine. Satisfied that I'm suitably impressed, he finally takes a seat. And maybe it's because I've become so finely attuned to him, but I notice his brief moment of careful consideration as he decides how close to me he's going to sit. It's the smallest flicker behind his eyes, as he glances around us. He's assessing the crowd, looking for people that he thinks could potentially cause problems. I know he's wrestling with not wanting me to get the wrong idea, amidst all the chaos that follows him, so I decide not to comment on it. Instead, when he finally gets comfortable about a foot away from me, leaning back on his hands, I assume the same position and subtly reach over to brush his pinky with mine. Returning the gesture, he looks over, thanking me silently with his eyes. That's all that's needed, really.

We settle in to watch the movies, devouring the snacks that he brought and sipping on the wine. During Pretty in Pink, he casually leans over and whispers in my ear, "who knew the movie would be so appropriate?" At first, I think he's being awfully cheesy, connecting my outfit to the movie, and I make to call him out on it. But when I catch sight of the way he's looking at me, I recognize with a start that it's the story line he's referring to. The parallels to our situation are kinda obvious, really. He smiles at me impishly and shrugs, as if to say, "hey, it worked out for them, right?" I lean back toward him to whisper back, "But wait, if I'm Andie, and you're Blaine...who's Steff? I hope you don't have a Steff. He's an asshole." He appears to contemplate the question for a moment, before he responds, completely straight-faced, "Niall. Definitely Niall." We both start giggling like kids at this, earning us a rather pointed look from a middle-aged woman a few yards away. Stifling our laughter, we manage to continue watching the movie. During the second part of the double feature, The Breakfast Club, I catch him reciting much of the movie, including John Bender's epic role play of a conversation between dear mommy and daddy. My inner 80's fan girl squeals with delight, having found her soulmate. I have to physically restrain myself from jumping on him in the middle of a crowded park. I feel like I'm being tortured having to keep my distance. Sigh....

Once the end credits start rolling, we each stand up to stretch and Harry immediately starts to gather all of our stuff. It almost seems like he's in a hurry to leave and I reflexively glance around me, assuming we might have been spotted. But all I see are other groups and couples, doing just as we're doing. So, I shrug it off and continue helping him. He mentions he has to stop by the restroom, so I decide to wait right here for him, knowing I won't be able to carry everything. By the time he comes out, much of the other movie goers have dissipated. Making our way back to the car, it's basically the last in the lot, aside from the cleanup staff. We throw the stuff in the trunk and Harry walks over to open my car door for me. But before I can climb in, he slams it shut in front of me and spins my body around, pressing my back to the car. I don't have any time to react or question before his lips descend in an explosive kiss. It's almost violent, to the point where my lips might bruise. And I'm loving every minute of it. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for the ride, all my limbs tingling with warmth. With a guttural moan that seems to bubble up from his toes, he presses even further into me, creating a welcome friction that has me almost grinding against him and I have to rip my lips away to gasp for air. His forehead drops to my collarbone, and I can feel his panting breath tickling against my skin. "Sorry," he mumbles with a short laugh, still nuzzled into my neck, "I've just been wanting to do that for the past four hours. I got a bit...carried away." Chuckling in response, I realize that I should at least attempt to maintain SOME of my chill, and I resist the urge to tell him he can get "carried away" whenever he wants. My head is still reeling from that kiss. Regretfully, he finally pulls away, smirking knowingly when I have to grip his arms briefly for support. Cheeky bastard.

Once again opening my door in an adorably grand gesture, he tips his head to me as I get in. After getting in on his side, he starts the car and we head back to my place so he can drop me off. Winding down the dirt road leaving the state park, I quip, "Never thought I'd meet someone as obsessed with 80's movies as I am. I never would've guessed! I just might have to keep you around Styles!" Peering at me sideways, I see a slow smile start to creep up his lips before he deadpans, "to be honest, if you weren't into the movie selections, I was gonna have to figure out a way to let you down easy. I mean, that just wouldn't have worked." Playing along, I respond seriously, "oh, absolutely! If you don't like a great John Hughes film, it's gonna give me trust issues." To this, he rather sagely nods his head, making me laugh. The mood in the car is so light an carefree, it startles me a bit when he grabs my hand and laces our fingers together, holding them in his lap. He doesn't really look at me when he does it, and I assume it's simply a way for him to see how I'll react. It's a bit disconcerting, having my hand held after so long, and I can't help but look down with a touch of wonder at our linked fingers. But it doesn't even occur to me to pull my hand away, ever.

Arriving back at my house, Harry walks me to my door like a true gentleman. Digging through my purse for my keys, I can feel his almost overwhelming presence at my back. Finally getting the door open, I turn around to find him close behind me, almost making me jump. When he reaches up to tangle his fingers in the hair at the base of my neck, I brace myself for a repeat of the kiss from earlier. Instead, he kisses me chastely, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth warmly, while his thumb skims my jaw. I can barely conceal my disappointment, but I refrain from pulling him closer. Deep down, I know why he's holding back. Building a slow burn to make it last, rather than sprinting for the finish line in my pants (so to speak). He's communicating, with having to say it, that he really does want this to be...something.