Primrose Thrills (Harry Styles mature)

Chapter 8

Thursday 1st November. My birthday. The one day of the year where people you haven't seen or spoken to since school seem to rekindle your friendship via meaningless Facebook Happy Birthdays. I was half tempted to like them all as to not seem rude, but I instead decided that a generic status thanking everybody would suffice. However it was very nice to wake up to text messages and voicemails from friends and family, wishing me to have a good day. I hadn't heard from Harry this morning but I expected that that was because of the time difference between us. It would be about 3am where he was now and I knew that he'd been exhaustingly busy these past few weeks.

Twenty three years old. Two hundred and seventy six months since I entered this world. Roughly eight thousand, three hundred and ninety five days. I couldn't work out if that sounded like a lot or a little. In many contexts, eight thousand was a small and insignificant number. It could be equated to six months' rent or the price of a new car. But over eight thousand days of living and breathing... I'd been to school, made friends, made enemies, had my first kiss, had my 'rebellious teen' years, got my degree, got a job... But there was still so much that I wanted to see and do. I wanted to see the Aurora Borealis; to lay upon the snow beneath the stars and stare up into the night sky. I wanted to go skiing. I wanted to ride an elephant and go to a full moon party. I wanted to go skinny dipping in the middle of a secluded lake, with no one there but me and the surrounding nature. I wanted to learn to play the cello. I'd always thought that it was such a graceful and elegant instrument- much nicer than any other string. I wanted to run a marathon. I wanted to go to Las Vegas and be as reckless as people were in Hollywood films. I wanted to be locked in a massive supermarket overnight. I wanted to find someone that I could share the rest of my life with. If Mother Nature was kind to me, I was only about a quarter of the way through my life and I intended on making the most of it. After all, what was life without a little fun and a little risk?

I laughed as I hung up the phone to my friend, who'd decided to sing the whole of Happy Birthday very badly down the phone. It reminded me of being a child and being at somebody's house for their birthday; when the cake came out and the mum or dad would give you a long and flat note of 'Haaaaa-' before everyone else would join in. I don't think I'd ever met anyone that could sing that note in tune. I was one of those people that smiled and mimed along, just to save embarrassment.

The buzzer to my flat rang and startled me from my thoughts. It was 9.30am, so still reasonably early. One good thing about birthdays was that I was allowed the day off of work. I'd offered to go in, however my boss had flipped my offer off with a roll of his eyes and wave of his hand, insisting that I take the time off and enjoy my day.

I reluctantly threw the duvet cover from my cosy body and dragged my feet over to the phone. It was the postman on the other end. He only ever called when something either needed to be signed for or was too big to fit into my pigeon hole, so an excitement instantly began pumping through my veins.

I pulled a loose-knit jumper over my pyjama tank top and pretty much ran down the stairs. I never took the lift when going down- only when I was going up. (Needed to get my exercise from somewhere...) I opened to door and the postman was stood with a bunch of flowers, two boxes and a few cards, which took me completely by surprise. He smiled and asked whether it was my birthday, to which I nodded. He handed me the parcels and exchanged a few kind words before going on with his day.

As I took the lift back up to my flat, I turned the card around on the flowers and read the message on the back of it.

'Dear Emilia,

Happy Birthday! .

Have a lovely day.

Lots of love,