New York, USA

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Maddie's perspective.

I don't think I've ever walked so fast and furiously in my life, I swear the TSA agents at JFK must be suspicious of the girl in sweatpants and a hoody, with no luggage, just a handbag slung over her shoulder, who is power walking through arrivals at top speed but thankfully they don't feel the need to stop me, they just shoot a couple of strange looks my way as they go about their business clearly deciding I am not a drug trafficker which I am grateful for. Since the moment I opened Harry's text, all I've wanted to do is see him. I have an overwhelming need to be in his arms, for him to kiss away all the troubles between us and make everything alright again and all I can think about is getting to his hotel the last thing I need is a cavity search slowing me down. 

A shiver of apprehension runs down my spine when I finally reach the exit and step out into the early morning New York sunshine, very early morning as it's only just past seven am here, although given that I've just adjusted to Pacific daylight time my body still thinks its four am and doesn't understand why the sun is even up yet at all. It's all quite upsetting. Stupid huge arse country with too many time zones.

I haven't even told him that I'm coming, I debated it for the duration of my cab ride to LAX, however, I know I'm new to this whole relationship thing, but from what I've seen in the countless rom-coms I've watched over the years, that is not the done thing. The romantic thing to do is for me to show up at his door unannounced and surprise him, right? So that is exactly what I'm going to do.

Jumping into a bright yellow taxi outside the airport I quickly give the driver the name of the hotel that I got from Stuart earlier today/last night... whenever the hell it was, before leaning my head back on the headrest and trying to relax, which is nearly impossible given the amount of adrenaline pumping through me. What if he's not happy to see me? What if those movies have been lying to me all my life and I've got the etiquette completely wrong here? We are British after all, and turning up at someone's front door without warning would be considered the height of rudeness back home, what if the person didn't have any milk in to offer you a cup of tea? How embarrassing would that be? No. Stop being an idiot Maddie. I silently tell myself as the cab winds its way through the early morning traffic, he said he misses you. Of course, he'll be happy to see you.

I while away the rest of the exceptionally long cab journey by staring out the window and taking in the sights of New York. It's not a city I've ever been to before, and the hustle and bustle outside the windows manages to distract me for most of my trip which is a blessing as the battery is dead on my phone and I didn't think to bring my portable charger with me, so I desperately need something to keep my mind occupied. I am happily engrossed in watching a man eating what appears to be a rainbow coloured bagel as he struggles to keep hold of his briefcase with his other hand whilst dodging the throngs of people on the pavement, or side-walk I guess here, as they make their way to work when the cab suddenly comes to an abrupt stop, and the driver's voice rings out.

"That'll be fifty-two dollars fifty."

Fuck my life. I should have asked Stuart to come and pick me up, I think to myself as I riffle through my purse and pull out a handful of the matching green notes, desperately trying to find the right amount of cash to hand him. Why is all money the same damn colour here? Eventually, I count out fifty-four dollars and hand it quickly to the driver before hauling myself out of the cab, which speeds off the second I've closed the door, clearly in a hurry. I turn to face the imposing structure of the high rise hotel in front of me, my stomach falling down into my boots as I take it in. I'm actually here. Shit. I take just a moment to square my shoulders and inhale a large lungful of the slightly smoggy New York air before I push open the huge glass doors and step inside.

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