Trendsetter (book 2) - H.S

Chapter 11: Home.

EL'S POV:

    I toss, and I turn in his bed, thinking of my parents coming here to me, and I get up, knowing if I don't that he'll wake up. I pad down the hall, and the stairs, grabbing a soft blanket from the armchair, throwing it around my shoulders, and throwing myself on the couch. I shouldn't feel this way, it's only my parents, and from what Harry knows I'm more than happy to have them here in California, because I haven't told him otherwise. The truth behind it is that I'm scared to have them here, I'm scared they're going to look at me like I'm crazy for living in a place like this. They already thought I was crazy for New York, and Milan, but California is different.
    New York I never cared. I moved to get away from my family, and Georgia, and anything that reminded me of Haley. I didn't want them to come up there so they never did. It was always just me there, and I didn't give it a second thought. Milan was different than that. I was going there because I thought it was what I had always wanted. I knew it was far from where I came from, it was the farthest I'd ever lived, and at that point I wasn't opposed to my mom and dad coming to see me, but they never did. This time though, they actually are coming, they're going to be here, and I want to impress them, show off my home, but it's not a home, not yet. I'm still trying to understand how to live my life the way I am now, I'm still adjusting, and my parents are going to know that. The fear I have is that they will see that as failure, they won't understand it.
    "Love, what are you doing?" I turn to see him rubbing his eyes softly as he enters his living room, and I sigh.
    "Did I wake you up?" I ask, and he shakes his head. It's dark, but I can still see the moon bouncing off of his skin. He wears only sleep pants, and socks as he walks towards me.
    "No, I woke up when I reached for you and you were gone, gave me some flashbacks to a darker time." He jokes, and I roll my eyes at him, tightening the blanket around me as he sits down next to me. "Why are you up? What's bothering you?" He asks, and I shake my head.
    "Nothing is bothering me, I never said anything was bothering me." I defend and he sighs.
    "I've known you long enough to know you that you can't sleep when something is bothering you, or you're sick. You don't look sick to me, so I know something has to be wrong... Talk to me." He suggests, and I sigh.
    "It's not a big deal." I tell him.
    "This is about your parents isn't it?" He asks me. I furrow my brows at him.
    "How did you even guess that?" I ask, and he shrugs, letting his hands fall to his knees.
    "I was the same way when my mum came to visit my first home in the states... I was scared she would hate every bit of it." He tells me, and I listen, hoping he'll keep talking so I don't have to, but he doesn't.
    "Well I just... I want them to like it enough to come back, that way I don't always have to travel to see them, but my parents are the kind of people that love warmth, and not physically but emotionally, and mentally. They like the southern comfort, they like knowing where everything is... They want a home, but how am I supposed to make them feel at home when I don't feel at home yet?" I ask him, looking for advice from the only person who's ever given me any that I've actually listened to.
    "I didn't know you felt that way here... This is off topic but El, I'm going to do everything in my power to make all of this feel like home to you as well, as much as you deserve it. You've almost been here three months, I want you to feel happy, like you belong...and as for your parents... They're not here to see California, they're here to see you, no matter if you were here, or New York, or Italy they'd be happy to be with you. It doesn't matter what surrounds them, you're the piece of home they're looking for." He tells me, and his words mold into me. I'm their home, and that's what will make all of this feel right to them when they get here tomorrow.
It hits me then that the only thing that feels comfortable now is him, he's the only thing that brings me comfort like a home would since I've been here. He's kind of like my piece of home in all of this as well. He's the one thing that's been constant, even in the few months we were apart he was constantly running through my mind. I never thought of it like that though, that one thing, one person is the one piece you need to feel different. My parents would never feel at home in this state if I wasn't in it. I never felt stable in any state or country unless he was there. In this moment he has made me feel at home, and I can go into tomorrow with a clear conscious on the matter.
"I guess I never thought of it like that..." I mumble, finally breaking the silence.
"I'm going to make this feel like home for you El. You're going to do the same for your family." He reminds me, and I find a soft smile on my lips as he does.
"You already have, at least in these moments you have." I tell him, and he pulls me forward, planting a kiss on my forehead.
"Alright then, let's go to bed." He insists, pulling me from the couch, and moving with me up the stairs and back to bed.
The next morning I woke up before him, and got out of bed, getting dressed quickly, and giving him a soft kiss, reminding him that I'm leaving for my apartment. He stirred a bit, mumbling that he loved me, and I said the words back, leaving, and going straight for my place. As soon as I was in the doors I cleaned quickly, knowing I already straightened up but I needed it to be perfect. After that I went into the bathroom, and started prep for what I already knew was going to be a long day. I look in the mirror now, hoping that the simple makeup isn't too simple. The buzz of the door shocks me as I get myself ready, and I hear his voice over the intercom.
"It's me, let me up." He mumbles.
I hear the door to my apartment open soon after, knowing who will be coming through
the door. I walk from my bedroom, having just finished getting ready. I know I didn't need to get ready at all, it's just my parents, they've seen me at my best, and at my worst, and everywhere in between, but even after the talk we had last night I still want them to think I'm put together. I walk down the stairs, and see him holding a huge bouquet of sunflowers in his arm, a bouquet that I know wasn't cheap from the looks of it.
    "Aw, did you get me flowers?" I ask, reaching forward, and he moves them away, pointing a finger at me.
    "Hands off!" He insists, and walks into my kitchen, cradling the flowers in his arms as if they're a newborn baby. He bends down, and reaches under the cabinet, getting a vase out, and filling it halfway full of water in the sink. He puts the vase on the counter, and unwraps the flowers carefully like he's performing open heart surgery. He starts placing the flowers in the vase one by one, analyzing them, making sure they're set right where he wants them to be.
    "Watcha doin?" I ask, walking to my kitchen. He places the last flowers in the vase, and he takes a deep breath, stepping back to look at his work in the vase.
    "When your dad gets here, and he asks where the flowers came from, you're going to say they're from me, that way he knows that I remembered that sunflowers are your favorite flowers." He tells me, but he hasn't taken his eyes off of the flowers the entire time he's spoken.
    "So you didn't get me flowers, you got my dad flowers?" I ask, cracking a smile at the gesture. It's sweet knowing that he's nervous at the thought of my father. Thinking back to last night I never would have guessed it, he has a good way of shutting off his feelings so he can deal with mine though, and I've noticed that since the first day I spoke with him. He walks to me finally, and actually lays his eyes on me.
    "No of course not... They're for you, but I just, I want him to like me El." He confesses, and I smile. He approaches, and I wrap my arms around his waist, crushing myself to him. His hands around my back, holding me the same, and his head rests on the top of mine.
    "He doesn't dislike you. He doesn't know enough to make judgment yet." I lie, knowing I come from the south, and everyone makes judgments the moment you step foot in a room, even if they know nothing about you.
    "He does dislike me, but I will change that." He tells me, and I pull back.
    "Last time you met doesn't count because we weren't together at that point. We're together now, and they know that. They're here for christmas, your mom and sister will be here soon, it's going to be perfect, just like you said last night." I tell him, and he walks away and into the living room, his stride turning into a pace. "Okay you need to chill out, my dad can smell fear you know?" I joke with him, and he turns quickly looking alarmed.
    "He can? Do I smell?" He asks, and I roll my eyes approaching.
    "I was joking. Seriously though, you're working yourself up way too much, you're going to be fine." I tell him, and he starts pacing again, but not before he wipes his hands on his loose fitting jeans.
    "This is no time for jokes El. I need preparation, what the hell am I going to do if he asks me about guns, or trucks? " He asks, and I walk up to him turning his attention straight to me. I place my arms around his neck, and reach up, melting the situation into a kiss, trying to defuse the anxiety. He pulls back. "I know nothing about-" He starts but I interrupt.
    "Do you want to talk about guns and trucks or do you want to kiss me?" I ask, raising an eyebrow, and giving a warning tone in my voice. He doesn't reply, and I lock our lips together again, feeling his muscles relax as he melts into it. We haven't slept together since Milan, we haven't done anything but this since then, and that's mostly my fault. I told him I wanted to move slower, to do this the right way. He's waiting for me to give the okay but I'm still in my head. I'm still El, the person who doesn't want to make the first move because I have a crippling fear of rejection, and because I don't want to put myself out there like that. Right now I don't care though, knowing he needs a distraction... we both do, and I know I can be the perfect one for him. I place my hand on the back of his neck, deepening the kiss for both of us, knowing there's fire coursing through both of us in this moment.
    I feel his hand move to my lower back, and the other to my thigh right under my butt. In one swift movement I'm off the ground and we're moving. My back touches the couch and he rolls into me, our bodies meshing together as he kisses me. I started this, I moved to him but he has completely taken control of the situation, dominating me in this moment. His hands move from my body, and straight to my face, cradling me with care, and soft touch. Something that changed since we were on tour together. Every touch then was gentle but it wasn't this. He holds me now as if I'm the most fragile thing he's laid his hands on. He puts passion, and love behind everything he does while holding me between his fingertips. He doesn't need to hold me there though because I'm wrapped all the way around his finger, and I wouldn't have it any other way. His hand travels from my cheek to the nape of my neck under my hair, and that's when his lips move as well, leaving mine and touching my skin, softly sprinkling kisses over me like a shower, and that's when we hear the buzz. My head shoots forward and I feel a sharp pain.
    "Goddammit." He mumbles, and moves back as we both hold our foreheads. "You've got a hard head." He mutters bitterly.
    "You're just now figuring this out?" I ask, and suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, letting my hand fall. The buzzer sounds again, and it hits me. My parents... My parents are here right now, downstairs, and I look like I just got mauled by a bear. "Fuck... Shit, my parents... My hair, my hair fix it, do I look like I just made out with you on my couch? Fuck my mom is going to know." I move forward, and straighten the blanket back on the couch the way I had it.
    "El... You're twenty five years old..." He mumbles, and I turn to him.
    "If my mom knows, then that means my dad will know." I speak in his language, spelling it out for him, and he sits up instantly, smoothing down my hair, and I can't help but hold back my laughter at his sudden urgency.
    "Do I have lipstick on my face?" He asks quickly, and I drop my head, and raise an eyebrow at him.
    "I'm not even wearing lipstick..." I mumble, and he shakes his head.
    "Answer the question Eileen!" He insists, and I roll my eyes.
    "No, you're lipstick free. Are you ready?" I ask, and he takes a deep breath, and stands up.
    "Let's get the damn thing done." He mumbles the last thing I thought would fall from his lips.
    "I am sooo telling him that you stole his saying." I tell him, walking to the keypad.
    "You better not." He warns, and I turn back after pressing the button to let them in.
    "And what are you going to do about it?" I ask.
    "Nothing... I don't want to get shot." He tells me, and I would have thought it was a joke but seeing how serious he looks I know it wasn't.
    "Harry... They flew here, he doesn't have any guns." I promise him with my voice, and he shakes his head.
    "I don't care how they got here. It's your dad, he has his ways, and I know he's got a gun specifically for me, and he's going to use it when-" He stops talking as the handle moves, and he smooths his hair quickly, and wipes his hands once more. I'm the one that should be nervous, thinking back to last night you think I would be, but right now he's taken the crown for that.