Harry Styles is spending the summer in a quiet villa on the French Riviera, hoping to find inspiration for his third album. It's not happening. When he sees a beautiful windsurfer racing across the waves, he believes lessons might be a good distract...
"A fan? I... no..." Lia stuttered as she panicked. Was this a deal breaker?
"It's obvious by things you say. No, don't turn away, it's ok. You're a fan, or you were, but you never ask about the band, or girlfriends, or want me to sing."
She sighed. "I was a fan at sixteen. You've seen the sleep shirt to prove it, and I'm sure I have said a few things to give away that I had more than a passing interest in you in the past. But I suppose that at twenty-six I'm more interested in you for who you are, not what you are.
"I have all of your music, with the band and solo, and I listen to it. I clean the house, and drive, and sometimes cry to your music. Well, to a lot of it, but some I don't like at all." He chuckled. "The thing is, I do all those things to a lot of other music as well. And I figure if you want to talk about the music or the girlfriends, or feel like singing, then you'll do it."
They had migrated to the terrace, where they sat in the dark, surrounded by the sounds of a gentle rain and the soft breeze coming though the cypress trees that dotted the neighborhood. Sitting close on the small rattan sofa, Harry had put his arm across the top of the cushion behind Lia, and played with her hair which hung in two plaits. His fingers brushed her shoulders, leaving a trail of heat behind them, and a shiver ran down her spine.
"Are you chilly?"
"No, that tickled a bit, that's all," she lied. "May I ask you one fan question? Just a little one?"
"Yes, but I reserve the right not to answer."
"That's fair. The thing is, it seems as though people are always determined to link every single song to an ex-girlfriend. Always. Are all of your songs inspired by real people... by girlfriends?"
"Actually, that's not really a fan question. Fan questions are the ones asking specifically who a song is about, and I'm sure you know I don't answer those. Not even for you. As for what you asked, the answer is no. Not all of them. Some are based on the experiences of my collaborators, some are imagining possible situations and feelings, and some are based on my own life."
"Is it annoying, all the speculation?"
"Sometimes. And sometimes it's funny. And sometimes they get it right."
"The night we got in the sea you said that you're having a hard time because you've been on your own since your last album. Do you feel that you've tapped out the material from your past?"
"I think I have. I appreciate that you don't ask about them. The relationships. They're done, over. The music has been a way for me to work through the bad times, and share the good times. And I think the music says everything I have to say about it.
"That night we got in the sea was good for me. I felt very alive, and that's a good place from which to write. And I did write. I've got a good start for a song. I have three or four others in the works as well, things I've begun over the past year." He looked down at her and smiled. "Now I need about six more."
Lia was certain he was going to kiss her.
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Their faces were inches apart, his arm rested on her shoulders, one finger ran idly over her collar bone, and their bodies brushed against one another from torso to toes.
He pulled away and smiled.
"When can we get fabric for my shorts? I'm looking forward to wearing them. Maybe I'll wear them into St. Tropez and be photographed and you'll see them in the press!" He sounded honestly excited at the thought.
"There's a stall at the market up the hill in Ramatuelle that has an excellent selection. I don't suppose there's any way you and I could go tomorrow morning? Coming here tonight is one thing, but I'm sure a public market is something else."
"It would be nice to get out, and I love a market; there's always something I never knew I needed or wanted." He pulled out his phone.
"Louise. I want to go to the market in Ramatuelle tomorrow morning." He looked at Lia. "That's just up the road, right?" She nodded. "It's close.... Louise, I can't stay at the house forever... Nobody even knows that I'm in the area... We'll take Ed and Jimmy... Of course you can come, and the band, if they fancy an outing..." He turned again to Lia. "What time?"
"The stalls open at eight o'clock, and it's usually quiet until nine or so, then the traffic picks up. After ten it'll be mobbed."
"Louise, we'll want to go early. Leave the house at eight, and pick Lia up on the way... Yes, that's a good idea... Let everyone know. I'll be back soon." He stood, and Lia followed suit. It seemed their evening was at an end. Probably not a bad thing, since they would have an early start the next day.
"We'll be here just after eight. I think Louise would like to spend a bit of time with you, since you seem to have become one of the family. The band'll come as well. They're always game for an expedition. We'll need all three cars, which can be problematic, but hopefully we won't draw too much attention."
"Will you wear a disguise?"
He chuckled, "Not a disguise, but I'll need to cover up well. We have a good system. It'll be fine. Now, I'm off. Thank you for dinner. And for talking. It's so nice to just talk. See you in the morning."
He kissed her.
He pressed his lips to her cheek, close to her mouth so that she felt them on hers, just at the corner. It wasn't the kiss she had hoped for, but it was getting closer. Standing beneath the overhang of the terrace roof, she watched him run out to the car, and waved as he pulled away.
