Sycamore Tree // H.S. (HIATUS)

twenty-five

"Your birthday is right before tour starts," Harry says sliding his hands over the thin wheel of his vintage Jaguar.
"So I'll still be in London."

"I know. And?" You look out of the window of the car, but there isn't much to see except masses of people strolling through the streets of sunny London. Harry hasn't exactly made a lot of time for you the past few days. He was at the studio for the rehearsals all day, every day and if you wouldn't have spent the days at his house, you probably wouldn't have seen him at all. But yesterday was different. He came home earlier than the other days, apologized for neglecting you and convinced you to join him today.
So here you are, in his shiny silver car, the Zombies playing again, the sun in your face and your hair up in a bun.

"I was thinking that... we could spend the day together," he stops at a red light and looks over at you, "if you don't have any other plans."

You take a moment to look at him as he continues to drive. Everything about him is so dreamy; his curls look extra soft today, his vintage graphic T-shirt with a huge heart for a print, his corduroy bell-bottoms, the rings, his round sunglasses.

"No, I don't have any plans yet. I would love to spend the day with you," you say. "But please don't throw me a party."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Harry reaches for your hand and squeezes it lightly, "no, it's just going to be us."

The studio is a different one this time. Not the one he took you to months ago. It's located in an old cream colored building. As Harry parks his car on the parking lot, there's a few other expensive cars parked here already.
"I never actually introduced you to my band, did I?" he asks as he hold the heavy black doors open for you.

"No, you haven't," you reply and take his hand as he walks in behind you.

"Today's the day then," he says, walking past the reception and gives the receptionist a greeting nod.

"Studio 3, today Mr. Styles," the receptionist says when you walk towards the grand staircase. Harry partly turns around and gives the man a thumbs up.

You follow Harry up the grand, marble stairs upstairs and along a hallway towards Studio 3. It's a large, sunlit room with white walls and wood-planked floors. Two keyboards, a drum set, a large variation of guitars and bass guitars are arranged in a large circle in the middle of the room. Harry's band members lounge around the room already, traffic made you and Harry late.

You've seen them together before, at the radio interview and the concert, but you never actually talked to any of them. Harry gives you a small kiss on your temple before he walks over to the side of the room and starts placing microphone stands along the circle. Instead of just standing there, you introduce yourself to the two men and three women. As you shake their hands and hug them, you feel Harry's eyes on your back. He just stands there leaning against a microphone stand watching you, only noticing his staring when you turn around to him.

He clears his throat and runs his fingers through his curls.
"Uh, maybe we should start," he says and finally takes his eyes off you. "Let's get to work guys!" and, as if he hasn't just completely forget where he was when he watched you, he claps his hands a few times.
Harry's band all gather around the circle to their instruments, starting to tune them, before they all do vocal warm-ups. It makes you think of when you and Rebecca went to your school's choir for a year.
Except that Harry takes his very serious and you and Rebecca only went there for the better grades.

You sit down on the sofa in the corner of the room as they start playing the instrumentals of the first song Harry put on the setlist. After Harry got it wrong for the third time, he abruptly stops and puts his guitar down.
"I can't play this and sing. It's too complicated," he complains with the guitar pick still between his fingers.