Not A Fan
I wake up to knocks on the door. I mean it has to be Harry as it’s not me. And we’re the only people in the house. “Come in,” I call out. He enters the room and jumps on the bed next to me. My heart thumps in my chest. And I don’t even know why.
“How was your sleep, love?” He asks, still led on the bed, on his side.
“It was great, thanks,” I say. I mean I’m partly lying just upon the fact that the night before I was scared out of my own skin then woke up in a different house I was meant to be in. Was it comfy? Yes. Would I like to go through all that again? No.
“Great,” He smiles. We sit lay there for a moment doing absolutely nothing. Now, on a normal occasion, I would find us laying here like paralysed animals would be very strange and most likely concerning, on this occasion though, it seems a lot less concerning and strange. More just peaceful. No one is talking, I’m not hidden under a table. So, it’s going great. “So, love, I was wondering-”
“You really do like asking things very early, don’t you,” I ask. He also asked if I could come over yesterday. Now, clearly, he does like asking questions early in the morning, which leads to the question I just asked. He stares into my eyes and laughs. I don’t know what’s so funny about eyes, but here we are.
“Just like you like hiding under tables,” He chuckles. I frown. “Only joking,” He squeaks. He looks into my eyes once again then quickly reverts his attention to the ceiling. “Anyways, I was wondering if you’d like to go for a walk, maybe stay at home,” He pauses for a moment, before looking at me slightly, raising his index finger, “Oh, I think I may have a knitting and sewing kit somewhere!” He says in his enthusiastic tone. “Whatever you want, love.”
Now, sewing and knitting sound fun. Oh god, I sound like a grandma saying that. Everything he’s offered sounds equally fun. Maybe, if he allows me to (he has no reason to say no.) we could do all the things. “Walking and sewing sound fun,” His eyes lights up like fireworks “But, I need to do writing...” Now I feel bad. “Sorry, Harry,” That. Name. “We have tomorrow, remember,” His eyes lights up once again. I have no idea why, though.
“Why can’t we do all of these things today?” He asks. He does have a fair point. He does ‘I’m right, you’re wrong’ smirk before continuing. “Why can’t we go for a walk, then you can do your writing, then we can finish with sewing and knitting?” He is very correct. We could do all of this today. So we will.
“Okay, Harry.” I smile. We have another silence, that we don’t want to break. We don’t necessarily stare at anything. At least I don’t. The silence isn’t awkward at all and I could stay like this forever. It’s just peaceful.
“Okay, love, I let you get dressed,” He slowly sits up. And just like that, it was as if he were never there.
Getting dressed is my least favourite bit about my day. I have terrible fashion sense. I couldn’t look good even if I tried. Now I do understand for some people love getting dressed, but that’s just not me. In fact, that’s the opposite of how I feel about getting dressed.
What also makes getting dressed worse is that:
1. Someone is waiting for me. Adds pressure.
2. I’m not in my house where all my clothes are.
So, with my resources, I am limited. Blossom, so being so dramatic. Let’s try and think quick. I pick out a random pair of bottoms without looking, they feel like jeans. Then I repeat with a top, I feel some big buttons on them, so I’m guessing it’s one of those cardigan-looking tops.
When I open my eyes, I’m greeted by two pieces of clothing. Black, ripped jeans, and a knitted, cropped top-cardigan, which is a brown colour. The kind of colour you think of when it’s autumn. Like an autumn leaf?
Well, I’m not going to choose again, because I’ll be wasting time, and Harry is waiting.
I put the clothes on, put my hair into a messy bun. My hair is always messy, it’s curly, semi afro. 3b, to be exact. (it’s a hair type, search it up). It is just a fact I know about. I can’t remember when I found out. Either way, my hair is in a messy bun.
I put on my shoes and leave the door.
“Harry, my feet will be all sandy!” I laugh. He wants us to go across the sand. I really like doing so, but the shoes I’m wearing, it doesn’t suit it. I’d rather not have my have sand stuck in my shoes until the day I die, thanks. “My shoes will be sandy and then in a few weeks, I’ll find more sand in them!”
“Please love?” He chuckles. “I’ll hold your shoes,” He says, raising his eyebrows. In honesty, his hands will be smelly for the rest of his life, so if he does win the fight, I will have to smell the shoe beforehand.
“What about my feet? They’ll be sandy.” I feel like I said a fair point. How will I be able to go back to his house with sandy feet? So now he should say ‘okay, love, you win’ or something like that, then we’ll walk on the path. But of course, he doesn’t.
He takes a long, overdramatic sigh and smiles “You can rinse your feet in the water and then I’ll carry you to the path again,” That’s something couples would do. We are nowhere near dating. I think. Then he looks at me. “Please?” He takes my hand to start walking to the sand, but I stay still.
I think either way, whatever happens, he will not let me win. So I’ll give him this. Though the carrying bit is as if we’re dating and very much in love, which we are not. I sigh. “Fine, you win,” I take off my shoes and smell them slightly. They surprisingly don’t smell too bad. That’s a surprise. “Take my shoes,” I smile.
And then we start walking over to the sand. I haven’t done this in forever. Definitely not something I’d do out of choice. He helps me jump onto the sand. I see him look at my outfit and smile. Now last time he did that, it was a good thing. So I’ll take it as a good thing again.
I mean I’ll try. Nobody’s perfect.
“Let be guess, my outfit is terrible?” I bite my tongue and smack my hand over my mouth. Ouch. I go red and I want to run away. Or swim.
He chuckles at me and smiles “The opposite, love,” his smile becomes bigger. “You look amazing,” He smiles as we start walking along the beach.
“You’re just saying that.” I smile. I mean I don’t have an opinion on my outfit. It isn’t the worst I’ve worn. He shakes his head.
“Sorry love, I’m too much of a gentleman to lie,” He says, trying not to laugh at his own words. Although he claims he’s a gentleman, I wouldn’t know- I’ve known him for like, 4 days.
“Sure, Harry” I joke. He returns with a pout, turning quickly into trying not to laugh face. “Why do you want to walk on the sand so much?” I ask. I mean, you could’ve said that when you weren’t on the sand, Blossom. Too late now.
“Because,” He lets go of my hands and plays with his rings. Something starts ringing. His phone. I know it’s his phone because my phone doesn’t make that sound. He takes a long sigh. He checks his phone. His face drops slightly. “It’s Jeff, can I take this?” He asks. I nod as he walks over closer to the ocean.
Normally he doesn’t look at his phone, but since we got halfway from the beach, he started checking his phone more often. Now, I understand Jeff is his manager and close friend, but he doesn’t normally act this way.
I cant hear him, so I’ll improvise. I can’t do it well, but we’ll try. I’ll lip read. Also, something that I can’t really do. But here it goes:
‘Girls are not fish.’ harry frowns ‘what are dogs?’ He looks worried ‘I think we’ll have a dough.’ That doesn’t sound right. I have very quickly noticed that I cannot lip read. None of these comments links up to his facial expressions.
I have also realised, from his facial expressions, that whatever’s going on is not good.
Harry walks up to me as fast as possible. He takes my hands and takes me over to the ocean. “Harry, what’s going on?” I ask. He shows that facial expression that says ‘hurry up’ So I dip my feet in the cool sea. My feet are going numb. He lifts me, bridal styles, and takes me over to the path. He puts on my shoes as quickly as possible then helps me up. “Harry?” He takes my hand and we start to walk.
“Fans,” He says in a timid voice. Oh. God. I’d prefer not to be here right now. If that’s what they’re on about, that means they’ll see me. My heart twists and turns and my stomach feels like bricks are in there.
My eyes start watering until tears fall. I shake my head for the one obvious option: no. “No, no no no,” I say desperately.
And without thinking I start running.
I didn’t even run that far. At all. I only ran around 2 corners, but I can’t remember what corners I took.
I am so stupid. Why did I run? Why did I even try? What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking.
Harry probably had a much better solution to mine, and now I’m lost. I am nervous, scared and, quite frankly, very regretful.
I doubt Harry likes me anymore.
I’m never getting home again.
My heart is beating profusely, I can barely think straight, and my lungs are suddenly not working. This day could’ve gone a lot better if it wasn’t for me.
Good going, Blossom.
My jean pocket starts to vibrate. At this point, I’d do anything to get out of this mess. In tears, I remove my phone from my pocket.
I swipe up.
“Harry, I’m so sorry. Wasn’t thinking, I just done. I’m so sorry. I’m lost. I don’t know where to go. I didn’t run far. This is probably why I don’t make many friends! Harry, I’m so, so sorry.” I cry out, that I think the whole of Britain can hear me.
“Love? Please breathe.” He chuckles. Why? This isn’t funny. At all. For all I know I could be here forever.
“Harry, this isn’t funny!” There’s a short silence. “I’m lost,” I say in a timid voice.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” I can almost hear his smile. “Bloss, why did you run?” He asked. He called me by my real name. Wow.
He has every right to ask. I really don’t know and never will know why I ran.
“I don’t know Harry, I really just wasn’t thinking. I’m around a.... bush.”
“Love,” He chuckles. Again.
“Harry!” I shout out. “This isn’t funny!” He laughs. Why? This isn’t anything to laugh about. Maybe he doesn’t care. Just maybe this was his plan. Blossom, don’t, he wouldn’t have even taken you out today if he didn’t care. Right? “Harry, please stop laughing, this isn’t funny!” I shout out again.
“Love, I can hear you shouting.” Told you he didn’t want you to be lost, Bloss. “Keep on. I won’t shout because fans may still be around here and although I love my fans, I’d rather find a lost fan.”
“Harry I’m not a fan!” I shout.
“That’s not very nice,” He jokes.
“If I were a fan I would be clinging onto your arm like a toddler. Which I’m clearly not.” I shout. “Are you any closer, Harry?” What if this is not working.
Let’s just hope.
“Your voice is getting louder...” I nod. Blossom, he can’t see you. You’re on a call. “Keeping speaking, love.”
“Are we going to be able to umm...” I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say. Other than: I’m lost. “Sewing! That’s fun isn’t it?” I shout as loud as possible. I’m still crying and my voice is still shaky. The last time I got lost was in the toilets at a theme park.
“Love, look up.” I do.
There he is. Harry is in front of me.
Not thinking again, I run up to him and hug him as tight as possible. He hugs me back. “Told you you’re a fan.” He laughs. We laugh together before it comes to a peaceful silence.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I pull back. “I don’t want to make your shoulder wet.” I chuckle. Now, happy tears falling. He doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head and hugs me again. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m so, sorry Harry. You probably had a better idea than me. I won’t do it again. I mean I’ll try not to. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s okay. Promise.” There’s a silence. “Love, let’s go home before you start running again.” He chuckles, as do I.
“Harry,” I say doubtful that I should be speaking at all. “You really sure it’s okay, I could just call up a taxi and go home. It’s fine.” I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I mean, I just ran off like a 3-year-old.
He turns his body to face me. “Love, I promise you that it’s fine.”
Like we should of a long time ago, he holds my hand as we walk back home.