Writer's Midnight Memories
Why is it somehow so tiering sat down in a car whilst someone drives you to a destination?
Maybe its just boredom. This is the only time in probably my existence that I’ve felt useless as if I have nothing to do. Usually, I’m sat down at my desk, or at a cafe trying to write down my first word on a blank canvas. I’ve already considered getting my laptop to write but Harry grabbed my wrist and insisted ’Love, today we won’t be needing your laptop.” He said in a sassy comedic voice ‘Put. The laptop. Down.’ While snapping his fingers. Then again it would be probably no use getting my laptop as I still have no idea what to say, do, or write.
I suppose that’s what has led me here. Sat down bored as ever.
The car stops suddenly, snapping me out of my daydreams and deep thoughts. I rub my eyes as if I just woke up then reality kicks in. I’m in a car with Harry Styles. I don’t really know if reality is bad or good this time so let’s go through the pros and cons. A positive, I guess a good thing is that someones in the car with me other than Emma. A negative, I almost fell asleep and already have probably made more mistakes than Harry has in his whole existence.
Usually, it’s bad so I’ll stick with that.
I still am wondering why he chose me over the other people at the park. They looked a lot more put together than me. But here we are and I have no choice so I’ll have to stick with that too.
Though I’d love to stick with it, I really do consider leaving. The main reason I would like to leave is: how does this help with writer’s block? Like, how is Harry and I going got the middle of London going to help in any way?
I hope it helps with writer’s block.
Though, if this does help, I don’t think ill be able to thank him enough, and I will probably die on my knees at his feet still saying thank you. What a strange way to die. Even though, if I did die like that, it would go down in the history book, I’d much prefer not dying like that. But thanks for asking.
Once again, taking me out of hidden thoughts, he helps me out of the car. Surprisingly, the car journey felt like a lot less time than it actually was. I don’t really know how I’ll be getting home today but I’ll try to forget about that.
“So love, what would you like to do?” He asked. I’ve already stopped wondering why he doesn’t call me by my real name as that would be another thing in my jumbled mind. What a great question. Where do we go? As strange as it sounds, I’ve not really been to London, I’ve only been around the area of my home, at Hollybush Hill, Stoke Poges. In fact, I live in the first house there if you’re going further away from Black Park - On the right side.
Reverting my attention back to where I am right now, in the centre of London, I have no idea what to do here. I’m not sure how to tell him so I’ll improvise.
“Well, I don’t...” I regret even speaking. Blossom, let’s think. One thing that people would do whilst visiting here.Buckingham Palace! “Buckingham Palace would be cool.” Cool? You think Buckingham Palace would be cool?! People would die to see it, and considering that I live pretty close to the Palace, I’m pretty sure its a lot more than cool.
He takes my clammy hand and places it in his warm coat pocket as we start to walk. I don’t know why he wants to hold my hands. I’m quite frankly a nervous wreck. No, In fact, that’s the definition of what I am. A nervous wreck. I feel too awkward to let go and even if I attempted I don’t think I would succeed as he is holding on pretty securely.
I don’t know how I’ve ended up here. It’s pretty amazing what life can do. I started off talking to my very bubbly, over-the-top friend on how to start fresh, and now I’m in a very unfamiliar place with a very unfamiliar person. Harry.
Now, there’s one thing I know about this part of London.
It’s very busy and lot’s tourists are here. So, goes without saying, if they find out that I’m here with the pop star Harry Styles, I don’t think I’ll live for much longer. My life would end right there on the spot.
I’ve pretty much already got down that I’m going to be improvising a lot today.
The palace is not what I was expecting. Well, it was. It was very pretty and picturesque, to say the least. As of now though, Harry and I are at a cafe having tea. A much needed cool down. And tea, but the cooldown is much more important. I feel as if my jittery self is no longer but as soon as he says a word, or holds my hand (which I still haven’t figured out why, but I can’t bring my self to ask) my heart feels like it’s going to explode. In all honesty, he is the only person, other than Emma, that has chooses to talk to me since my childhood, and the things people said weren’t the nicest either way. So, I guess the reason my heart wants to explode each time he speaks is that its very different for someone else to be speaking to me, let alone Harry Styles.
I think that’s the reason I go so jittery.
“Have you been here before?” He asks. Its as if he’s been reading my mind because all I can think of is the fact that this is like a whole entire different world. I mean everything different. The look of the building, bridges, everything. I shake my head no. For two reasons, to shake away my thoughts, and the most obvious reason, to answer his question.
“No, I’ve only really been around home.” Although I didn’t have to say that, I carry on." And Black Park, of course, otherwise I wouldn’t have been there today. I suppose I don’t really go to Black Park either way, so that’s a lie I guess. But, me and my friend have bee--” He’s got a big, dimpily grin on his face, dimples deeper than the lake in the park Harry and I met. Why?
Oh god, I was rambling. Mistake number 198172, rambling. I feel my face heat up to a shade of red as I unconsciously look down, so I don’t have to face the reality. The worst part is, I can’t remember what I had said.
“Well, love, welcome to London.”
One recurring thing is that he seems to like my hands. Sometimes he will hold my hand and place it in his pocket, though, I pretty sure he would know I’ve got pockets of my own. I guess at least I keep my hands warm. Each time he does so, my heart pounds to the point I think I see it through my thick coat. That’s surely a world record.
Although I think I’ve enjoyed my day filled with Harry Styles and my idiotic mistakes in London, it is slowly coming to an end. It’s just gone past 11 pm, and there are still so many things I’d love to do here. I’d love to go to Madame Tussauds and maybe go to the London Eye (once we got there it had closed.) Right at this moment, we are just strolling around the lit-up London. In all honesty, it’s so lovely. The London Eye lights up the City and light sprinkles rain descends from the sky to our cheeks. Although cars still go past, it still looks like the most magnificent thing ever. The cars’ lights reflect off the dampened floor. The full moon makes the River Thames twinkle like the stars all around.
“It’s beautiful,” I say I feel my lips mould in a smile full of happiness and disbelief. Although I didn’t mean to say anything, I disregard that thought. “Absolutely lovely.”
Without noticing, we’ve stopped, and he’s in front of me, hands letting go of mine. My heart is thumping in my chest, and my lungs forget how to work.
Blossom, he doesn’t like you, for many reasons. Stop being so dramatic. He barely knows you.
In a way, I can tell he’s thinking, but I haven’t left his eyesight. I don’t think. Well if I weren’t in his eyesight, I’m rather not here, or a big spider is on my face. I hope a spider is not anywhere near my face. His face doesn’t look fearful so I think I’m good. I discard my thoughts all I can. Then I remember. We haven’t actually been to the Tower Bridge yet. The thing he said we’d be visiting.
“Harry,” What is wrong with me? Why is that name always making my heart thump? I chuckle.“We haven’t been to the--”
My jaw seems like it has just detached from my face. It’s as if he can read me like a book. I’ve known Emma for 6 years and I can’t even read her at all- her book is in a different language or something.
He takes my hand. I don’t know why. But in all honesty, he probably thinks I’m a 3-year-old considering I call Nuggets, Nuggies without thinking. Putting that to mind, he probably thinks I’d get lost.
I think I’d get lost.
He walks ahead of me, hand in hand.
It’s now midnight. I can’t remember the last time I’ve stayed up this late. Emma probably thinks I’ve gone missing or something. But, I’m on the tower bridge with Harry, and the view is mind-blowing. Although I’m scared of heights all those feelings gets pushed aside because this is genuinely perfect.
The only thing is, I’m getting quite cold, although I have around 50 layers on. Okay, that over exaggerating. I have 2 layers on, my green wool jumper and my coat. My left-hand keeps warm though, as harry has secured it with his.
“Thank you, Harry,” I say unconsciously, all this time I’ve been hoping its a dream, so I don’t have to be humiliated but this time, I wish this is very much real life.
He smiles, though the smile quickly turns to a frown. And I cant latch on why.
“You cold?” Yes.
I nod and he smiles again.
“Let’s get you home then.”
Who knew traffic would be so bad this late? Well, technically, it’s early as it's almost 1:30.
Harry said in his very Cheshireaccent ‘we need to go to the closest petrol station if that’s okay’ Of course I said ‘Okay’ in my very un-satisfying British accent. I mean nothing is new with anything. I’m pretty sure this won’t help with writer's block but we’ll have to deal with it. At least we had a good time. I’m pretty sure he had a good time. Well, if I were him, which I’m not, I’d not have a good time with me, let alone choose me out of loads of people in the Park, but here we are.
Harry looks pretty frustrated. I mean, I would if traffic is this bad. And I’m assuming that he’s going to run out of fuel if he really needs to go to the petrol station. I mean if he didn’t, what a waste of both of our time.
Update: We didn’t make it to a petrol station. In fact, we are in front of a corner shop, because we had to drive off the main road. In my opinion of all of the possible, valid opinion, we’re lost. But in Harry’s opinion that doesn’t to be as valid, ‘we’re fine, love we’ll get a taxi, and someone can sort it out.’ I didn’t try and burst his bubble, but it seems like I did. Without realising, I’ve started to cry. And beforehand, we were just staring in an un-rude way. And this is where we have left off.
“Harry,” I say in the most panicky voice I’ve ever heard or been able to do. “We are stuck in the middle of nowhere! I don’t know where I am and I’m lost and I need to call my friend and I need to--”
“Love, it’s okay, it’s just fine.” He explains to me, whilst I’m still in tears. Though I’m super embarrassed about crying, I can’t help it. I’m not attempting to seek attention, it just happened.
The only part I’m fairly certain about right now is, he 100% thinks I’m a baby. Or at least a toddler.
“We’ve already called a taxi, and people to take away my car, it’s all going to be okay.” He carries on. I’ve, only just now, realised that he’s been rubbing the sides of my arms for comfort. The comfort didn’t in any way help, considering I didn’t even realise.
Now, it’s the waiting game.
It’s been hours.
Four in the morning. And, it seems the traffic is getting worst. Me and Harry, on the other hand, seem to be getting better-ish.
I’ve tried to loosen up, though I’m still jittery and still feel my heart in my throat most of the time, I try to forget.
“And that’s the first time I heard Mitch laugh!” He says chuckling to himself. We are sharing a cookie from the cafe we were in almost a DAY AGO! The floor is pretty comfy. Or maybe my behind is just numb.Our bottoms will get soaked after this. Either way, we are pretty settled. “And, and, the best thing is, love, he laughed because of me!” It makes me smile when I see he is so thrilled about making the band’s guitarist, Mitch, laugh.It’s pretty entertaining.
And I’ve mustered enough courage to ask a question. Now or never, am I right?“So, how is everyone, like all the band?” I know it’s not me saying much, but I’m a pretty quiet person so, it goes without saying, that was a big task for me, let alone get an answer.It’s just that, in all honesty, and opinion, I feel my voice is very cringy to the point where I cringe is I hear it.
“They all are very good. They all, also seem to be safe and sound in their houses, and not sitting in front of a corner shop.” Seems likely.“But, love, you’ve been asking about me way, way too much, so time for me to ask questions.”
I can’t tell if I’m going red or pale like a ghost. Either one is bad. I release a nod into the world and he begins.
“I’ll only do one question, as the taxi man should be here at any moment now.” Phew, only one question.“Do you have any friends? Like how are they?”
I give another nod. I force my words out, as my through feels dry.I really don’t like questions, do I?“Yeah, I have friends.” There’s a silence. I feel my heart in my throat though, I continue. “Well, one friend.” My face is definitely red.“She’s called Emma. She is also my roommate.” More words fall out my mouth “She deserves an award I suppose, for being Emma, and also my best friend. ”
Maybe I’m just tired, but he seems to be smiling.
I was rambling.
As the smile goes on, a light of a car goes past and stops right in front of our eyes.
My trip home arrived.