Before you go... //h.s

Pierre

Harry takes me to a gorgeous café and we order paninis, enjoying the simple goodness of a panini and coffee; he assured me that there was no point at all ordering tea in LA and claimed it always tasted like sewage much to his disappoint, and my following disappoint.

I was quieter in lunch, acting more like I had when I'd first met him. Of course, he picked up on it, and repeatedly asked me concernedly whether I was okay. I didn't tell him, my mind split down a shouting line of wanting to be honest with him, but not wanting to unload my issues onto him.

We were back in the car, driving down a quieter road when he just pulled off to the side and turned to look at me seriously,

'Iris, I know something's wrong, please just trust me...I want to know,' he reassures me softly and I sigh, my resolve melting away into the gently blowing wind.

'It's just...I had one of my thoughts today for the first time in a while and it's shaken me a bit...sorry,' I admit, looking at my bitten fingernails as I told him, almost ashamed because I feel like I have no reason to be so upset, no reason to have issues like these.

I shouldn't have these issues: I have so much to be thankful for, I have so much that other people don't. I have a boss who tolerates my constant lateness, amazing friends, an amazing boyfriend, parents who love me, even if we didn't see each other very often. I don't get to be sad because I have so many things to be thankful for. I don't get to have these issues because there are so many people that have it so much worse than me.

Which is why I'm almost embarrassed because I feel like I have no reason to have these issues.

Harry leans over the controls, hugging me around my shoulders and placed open mouthed kisses on my neck.

'Iris, darlin', don't apologise. It's not your fault,' he tells me, then smiles cheekily and adds, 'I have an idea to get your mind off all this,'

I look at him, somewhere between intrigued and concerned at his plan because he doesn't add anything before pulling out of the pull-over spot so fast my neck snaps back against the headrest.

The wind gently blows through my hair and the songs play softly on the radio as we drive, further and further away from the centre of LA. My eyes trace the white line along the centre of the road, my heartbeat thumping noticeably in my chest.

Harry's eyes stay on the road, head nodding subtly along to the quiet music and hands easily wrapped around the steering wheel. His hands are so fucking attractive...with the ring, tattoos and tan.

The car continues, humming along the road as the wheels spin. The traffic and honking of LA is far behind us now, but Harry keeps driving so I stare out at the open planes either side of the car, appreciating the natural beauty and wildness; having lived in New York for nearly four years, it's been too long since I've seen grass that grows naturally or flowers that haven't been precisely planted. A few palm trees are scattered across the land, taller than everything else and forming peaks, plants you can't help but look at because they're so much taller and more majestic than the shrubs that cover the floor. These planes are open: the occasional small animal scuttling across, taking shelter under the bushes and rocks. It's truly stunning.

'D'you mind connecting my phone to the car?' Harry asks softly, interrupting our comfortable peace for the first time in a while. I look at him, unsure why but shrug and do it anyway.

Then he takes it, scrolling through with an obvious purpose, he wasn't just looking for a random song and clicks on Pierre by Ryn Weaver. Then he fiddles with a knob on the controls and the volume increases until it's beating into my eardrums as though the song is playing in my head itself and not just blasting out the speakers before he turns to me seriously,