Nora Dodson is a "fast-talking, F-bomb-dropping, born-and-bred New Yorker". Harry Styles is no longer a member of One Direction. He's lovely, kind and a very odd young man, though he's entirely unhappy in his relationship. But then he meets Nora an...
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The sun was setting lower into the sky and the overwhelming temperatures from earlier in the day had started to drop. It was still very warm, but as the sun disappeared, so did the beads of sweat on Nora's body. As her driver navigated the excessively congested streets of Los Angeles, she let her hair down and she took a few deep breaths. Her unbearably long day had started at six am and now, at five-fifty she was about ready to pass out. She had blisters on her feet from being stuck in heels all day and her head ached.
"Hey Al?"
"Yeah?"
"How far out are we?"
"About fifteen minutes." Nora lays her head back on the seat. "If I could get there faster, I would."
"Oh, I know, Al. It's not your fault. It's this fucking traffic." Al chuckles.
"Welcome to Los Angeles, kid."
"Sorry for being a bitch." Again, he laughs.
"Long day?"
"The longest...I had heels on my feet for a good ten hours."
"Ooh..." He grimaces.
"Yeah. Safe to say, I feel like I'm going to die."
"Can't say I relate. That makes traffic seem like a walk in the park." Nora laughs, and it might be the first time today.
"I just want to be home."
"I'll try and get you there as soon as I can."
"I appreciate it, thank you." From there, the drive takes, as he said, about fifteen minutes. Finally, when Nora believes she truly can't take any more, they pull up to the gate. She reaches out the window and types in the gate code and then the car whisks up the steep, winding, tree-ridden driveway. She admires the greenery with the window down, and then about thirty seconds later, Al parks in front of the house.
"Will you need me anymore tonight, kid?"
"No, no. I'm okay. I won't need you until Friday morning."
"Alright, I'll see you Friday." She gathers her things and slides out of the car.
"Thank you, Al. Have a good night, okay?"
"You too, Nora." The balls of her feet hurt as she pads into the large, modern home. She calls for Harry but doesn't get an answer. She looks around and then walks outside. Sure enough, she sees him scribbling away in his notebook, cozy in one of the chaises by the pool. It's dark now and although the house is lit up, she's unsure of how he can read whatever it is that he's writing. She glides noiselessly down the concrete stairs and then collapses on the chaise beside him.
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