Sycamore Tree // H.S. (HIATUS)

twenty-nine

"He was really precious about not telling anyone your name until you actually got together," Tommy says and blows out the smoke of his cigarette.

"Nah, he told me the morning after he found out," Charlie disagrees with Tommy. It's the day before you fly to France, the day of Harry's TV-show appearance, but that's not until tonight and now it's the afternoon. Tommy invited you, Harry, and Charlie over to his house before you have to leave for the rehearsal, briefing and then the show. It's the first time you met Tommy's two children, a boy and a girl. Harry is playing with them in the sandbox further in the back of Tommy's garden. Tommy must've caught you staring at Harry, lost in your thoughts.

You shrug to cover up your face blushing, "I don't know why, it's really not that special."

"Did you know who he was?" Tommy asks you.

"No," you shake your head and play with the rings on your fingers, "well, after he told me his name, I did, but before that he just seemed familiar."

"And then- boom, you got thrown into the world of Harry Styles," Charlie says and lights a cigarette.

"And then boom, he followed me on Instagram and I gained ten thousand followers in one night," you say and look from Charlie to Harry again. He's out of earshot, but he looks at you and smiles.

"Tonight's the last gig before the tour," Tommy steers the conversation away. Harry and you still haven't worked through his tour plan together, and you also still haven't told him what you so desperately need to tell him because you're unsure about how he will react. Harry knows you won't be able to actually come on tour with him and travel with him for months. You need to start looking for a job, and need to be available and in London.

"Hm," you just say, "sorry." You get up and walk over to the sandbox, Harry moves on the edge of it, making room for you to sit next to him.

"What were you talking about?"

"You, me, tour," you say and lean his head against his shoulder.

"Are you okay, angel?" His voice is concerned, and he wraps his arm around your waist.

"I'm good, just don't want to think about it," you say quietly and feel his lips on your hair.

"Would you like an ice cream?" Tommy's young daughter asks you and holds up a pink plastic ice cream cone.

"Yes, please, love. Do you have different flavors?"

"We have strawberry, chocolate, vanilla and... Harry, what else?"

"You told me pizza before, but I wouldn't recommend that," Harry says.

"I'll take vanilla, please," you say and pretend to give the girl some change. She fills up the cone with some sand and gives it to you in exchange for the "money".

"Would you like another one, Harry?"

"Yes please, sweetheart. Same as her."

"Are you only gonna sing one song tonight?" you ask him as you pretend to eat your sand ice cream.

"Yeah," Harry says, taking the fake ice cream from the girl, "I'll play your guitar, though."

"My guitar is in the five thousand dollar one that I haven't seen since New York or the one I painted you," you ask jokingly, and look up at him, chuckling.

"The sunflower one, the other one is in my studio," he says, "I, uhm, recorded something with it when I couldn't sleep last night."

"What are you plotting?"