Rebel Rebel |harry styles| - ongoing

TWENTY-ONE

Bing Crosby: Let's Start the New Year Right

Essie

Harry wasn't kidding when he told me that his team moves fast once they start prepping for tour. Jeff called him a hundred times, changing dates, scheduling promotional appearances, setting aside time off. It was hectic, to say the least. I watched him work, jot things down in his journal, hum to himself while showering. Harry lived his music, that I was sure of.

Becks and Pierce took Bono last night... I cried, they promised to take loads of photos and send me updates every day. I knew he would be fine with them, but it didn't make the thought of spending holidays away from him hurt any less. Harry and I were going to his Los Angeles home before tour started, he still had some recording to do, and we all thought it a good idea for me to tag along and shoot the process. We would spend New Year's there, the album was set to be released in early January, and then we'd go back to the UK mid-February before tour kicks off. I scheduled other work during those months because I knew that I'd get immensely bored on those days when there would be nothing to shoot with Harry. Tony helped, throwing work my way, for which I was thankful.

"We're almost there, so don't fall asleep on me now.", Harry kept one hand on the steering wheel and fumbled with the radio stations, trying to find lively music to wake me up. It had been a long day, a flight across the Atlantic, almost no sleep for days prior... I was struggling to keep my eyes open.

"I'm trying my best, H. I really am, it's just so comfy in this car.", I felt my eyelashes tickle the tops of my cheeks and I gave up on fighting sleep.

A while later, could've been an hour or a minute – it all felt the same to me at this point – I woke up and noticed the car was parked in front of a large estate. Harry never showed me pictures of his LA home, so I was in for a surprise. It was between a mansion and a large home, five bedrooms, a fully equipped recording studio in the basement, an indoor and an outdoor kitchen, an infinity pool overlooking the lights of Los Angeles. It didn't seem impersonal or cold, though. Harry was everywhere in this home – the framed vintage Rolling Stones tour posters, a shelving unit spread over an entire wall and filled with records, a modern kitchen but original exposed beams that separated it from the rest of the open concept space, three guitars leaning against the comfy sofa. It was his home. Well, one of his homes.

"Pick whichever room you like. Jeff lives not far from here, so he won't be staying with us. There's a chance the band crashes here when we get closer to putting the finishing touches on the record, but there's plenty of room for everybody.", Harry carried my luggage to the top of the stairs and disappeared to make a phone call. I picked one of the three rooms on the right side of the house, which had big windows and a killer view.

Before I did anything, I needed to unpack. I knew that if I put it off, I'd end up living out of a suitcase for the next couple of months. It was easy to make this space my own, setting photos of Bono and the gang on top of the dresser, putting my clothes into the walk-in closet, and placing my toiletries around the en suite bathroom.

Days passed and we settled into a routine. I made myself scarce while he wrote and recorded, popping into the studio, here and there, just to take a few shots of the process. He'd prepare dinner and we decided to start ticking off classic films from one of those 'films you have to see before you turn thirty' lists off Buzzfeed. Mom kept asking me to come visit her in Vermont, and I kept putting it off, trying to pencil it in sometime before returning to the UK in February. Before I knew it, we were already in late December, with New Year's just around the corner. Harry and I planned a party in his house for friends and family that were in the area. Jeff would come with his wife, the band would also join in on the fun, and Harry's sister Gemma would stay with us for a week during the holiday season. I was excited to meet Gemma, having heard so much about her. Harry really loved her, and not just for show, not just saying it... he valued her presence in his life greatly.