With her father on a fast track to political stardom, Anna's quirks and "out there" personality have always been looked down upon. After years of struggling with her stifled emotions, she ends up institutionalized, surrounded by strangers and lost i...
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The fresh smell of lavender basil soap. The tickle of damp hair against the back of her neck. The sunlight peeks through her barely opened eyelids. The sounds of the humming air conditioning and baby clucks of their new pet. Anna takes in the peaceful moment and melts into the warmth enveloping her body.
"Ziggy needs a brother," Harry mumbles. She forgot he had a habit of talking in his sleep. "Anna's so pretty."
She listens intently for his slumber-induced confession. The heat of his breath hits the backside of her ear and she becomes suddenly aware of his close proximity to her body. He snuggles in closer, rubbing the tip of his nose against the crook of her neck. She doesn't interrupt the moment. She lays still, welcoming the tender feeling of his summery skin against her goosebumps.
Anna never considered herself a "cuddler" but the joy she felt in Harry's arms carries her to the realization that the truth is she'd just never been cuddled before. At least not like this. Not in the way that made her feel protected. His embrace is her chrysalis. Her 10-year-old self rests inside her 25-year-old body, clutching to the human safety blanket wrapped around her.
"Strawberries... You smell like strawberries." Harry brushes his lips against the freckle on her shoulder. The one he's secretly chosen as his favorite.
As she absorbs the endearing energy, Harry shockingly sinks his teeth into the flesh.
"HARRY! WHAT THE FUCK?" Anna jumps up from the bed. The flash of (somewhat enjoyable) pain jolts her awake and aware of the fact she's awoken with Harry. Again.
"What? What happened?" Harry dazedly wakes up. He goes to run his fingers through his hair. His hand stops at the tiara, now tangled in his semi-wet curls from the shower he took before falling asleep talking with Anna. "What the fuck? What time is it?"
"Nine in the morning. The breakfast we ordered last night should be coming soon." She tightens the sash of her robe. Although nothing sexual happened between the two of them, the surprise of waking up in Harry's arms somehow felt more intimate.
Harry grumbles and throws off the blankets to use the bathroom, revealing his completely nude body.
"Oh my god! A little warning would be great!" Anna covers her eyes, making feeble attempts to peer through the cracks between her fingers. "Why are you naked?"
"Only way I can sleep." He stands and does obnoxious stretches on his way to the bathroom. "Like what you see?" He lunges with every step. "Drink it in, Annie. Some people would kill for the view you're gettin' right now."
Anna laughs heartily, her eyes now uncovered, and snatches a pillow to chuck at Harry as his round bottom disappears into the bathroom. She answers the knock at the door and instructs the bellhop to wheel the cart of food to the dining nook by the window.
Harry joins her at the table. The metal tops on the plates removed, he admires their bounty of non-breakfast breakfast food. Her plate of chicken strips. His double cheeseburger.
They sit comfortably in their robes, savoring the London scenery and the equally entertaining conversation. She places two of her strips on his plate. He cuts his burger in half and removes the pickles before placing the share on her plate. Each gave without asking and took without verbal confirmation. In their short time together at the institution, they'd become very familiar with each other's nuances.
"Forgot one," she says, pulling a stray pickle slice off her burger. She holds it in the air and Harry opens his mouth and catches the piece.
"Wait one second." Harry bends down and grabs the party-store tiara from the ground and puts it on her head where he feels it naturally belongs. "What's on the agenda for today, princess? Or would you prefer queen?"
"I think I like princess," she replies with a smile," hidden behind her half of the burger. He grins at the speck of mustard on the corner of her mouth. "I was thinking, we need to get jobs before anything, right? So maybe we can work on your resume and—"
"I actually have an interview lined up for today for a bartender position at this hole-in-the-wall called The Dry Martini. They also said I could be a stand-in guitarist for the house band. There's a waitress position too if you don't mind working with little old me." He taps her forehead with a french fry before popping it into his mouth. She jokingly bites at the air to snatch it as he pulls it away. "I think you'd like it. Has a Gatsby vibe and we know how you like that." He flails his hands around and points at the decor of the hotel room she chose.
"I guess I can come with you, if that's okay?"
"Of course it's okay. The waitress uniforms are quite something. Would rather like to see you in it myself."
She blushes and picks at her split ends. Her usual nervous habit.
* * *
"We don't have to do this. I have clothes that'll work fine for the interview." Harry rifles through racks of clothes. Clothes that are far out of his budget but Anna insists on getting him with her father's black card. The small act of rebellion against her parents, in combination with helping her new friend, made her feel fulfilled in more ways than one.
"Harry, you had a hole so big in your socks that your big toe was popping out the top. If there's anything my dad taught me, it's every man needs at least one good suit. Here. Take this... this... and this." She loads his arms up with black pants, a black blazer and white long sleeve button-up. "And can't forget the tie!" She adds that to the stack of apparel and sends him off to the dressing room.
Harry can be heard moaning and groaning behind the curtain. "The hell? Come on. Get in there."
"You okay in there?" Anna asks quietly. Her hand is grabbed and she's yanked into the casket-sized room.
"I feel goofy," he whispers. "I can't step out there like this."
"You made me wear a cheap tiara all day and you can't step out in that? Are you kidding me? You look insanely handsome. Where's the tie though?" She looks around the room and finds it rolled up in a ball in the corner. "There it is. Put this on."
Harry reluctantly grabs the tie from her hand. Popping up the collar of his shirt, he wraps the thin fabric around his neck and attempts a knot. His hands shake, more so with every failed try at folding the pieces together. The growing tremors run up his fingertips and grab hold of his wrists like invisible snakes.
"Are you okay? Do you need help?" She asks.
"I said I don't need the fucking tie, okay?" Harry throws it to the ground. This is the longest his body had remained sober in some time and the withdrawal symptoms are still apparent. He sees himself the way she saw him at the phone when they first met. A self-absorbed junkie. Since then, her sweet prying eyes made him feel comfortable but as his quivering, clammy palms struggled to accomplish the most simple of tasks, he spars with the idea that he'll always be nothing more than an addict in her gaze. "Sorry... just never liked ties much is all. Corporate nooses as I like to call them." He tries to laugh off his angered reaction.
"That's fair." She forces a smile. "You don't need it anyways. Very double-o seven."
"Did you see my list?" He hasn't shown his personal docket to anyone yet. Some of the items are too personal for even him to read himself, or born from silly boyhood fantasies. A handful even included the girl standing beside him.
Number 13: Be as suave as James Bond someday and get the girl.
"No. Why?"
"No reason..." He looks to the mirror and adjusts his collar. Snapping his fingers several times, he readies himself to show off his new-found persona. "They call me Styles." He dramatically turns back towards Anna. Sweeping her into his arms, he dips her back and gives a quick wiggle of his brows. "Harry Styles."
