One More Time [A Larry Stylinson FanFic]

Chapter 4: The Storm

Marley ran as fast as she thought she could without slipping and falling, back to her trusty jeepy-jeep. She dashed off a quick text...

I'm just leaving – Mary Clare chewed me out for ditching early. Hope you made it out before the snow started! x

...before she dusted off the snow from her windshield and hopped into her car. She didn't not want him to have a good weekend away. She knew he had other projects he was trying to manage, just like she had work she was desperately trying to keep on top of as part of her agreement to be away from the firm for so long. But, if she was being honest with herself, she kind of wished he was spending the weekend with her at her place like he had started doing a few weeks ago, when producers started letting contestants out for the weekend, in a bid to preserve everyone's sanity. It started when another contestant – Marley hadn't been able to figure out who – asked permission for a weekend away to keep a commitment in the city. It meant being released for long weekends; days when they weren't filming, or rehearsing, or broadcasting. Once the one person was released, it was hard not to release the others who were local.

Sam's agent had lied and said he was local. He was going crazy locked in the hotel, and well, then there was kind of the fact that the ruse had to be created because his and Marley's covers had been blown when their handlers found them practicing in the same hotel stairway.

Everyone's identities were supposed to remain secret. Their handlers were afraid they'd be disqualified. And by "they", everyone knew we meant "Marley." She was the one who was the tiny, tiny inconsequential nobody. Sam was the multi-platinum, Grammy Award-winning heartthrob and this season's hidden gem.

Ahem. As it turns out. Because Sam is just the codename he'd been given by The Show. Really, Sam was Harry. Harry Styles.

Only he proved to be just as nice as every kindness blind anyone had ever read about him. He refused to let anyone turn Marley into a sacrificial lamb. Their handlers had no choice but to hope to keep it a secret.

And so, they had no choice but to sneak him into Marley's house when they were finally released from sequestering. Their handlers convinced the two of them that the only cover that would force the producers into not murdering them, if they were ever found out, was if they could sell a forbidden-romance storyline.

Marley and Harry both rolled their eyes at that. Marley suspected Harry would have gone along with it, if it had come to that. She saw the stories about him and the convenient romances with the supermodels and singers and reality stars. Marley and Harry were good enough friends by then, texting even when they couldn't sneak away to the unused stairway, that Marley told him flat out, while they waited for the car to be brought around, that she wasn't a beard. He could be her mate, and could use her home as an escape from the city – let the handlers think they were going along with the plot. But she had shared enough experiences and personal stories by that point to know she meant what she said and she said what she meant. The short and long of which was she wouldn't go along with a romance storyline if it came to that. She'd do just about anything else he asked her if it would help him out, but she didn't believe bearding served any healthy purpose in their culture. He nodded and had that faraway look he gets when he's taking things in and thinking them over, and he just said okay.

Then he picked up his bag, hiked it up higher on his shoulder, and let out a tiny little dimple when he asked, "So which way is home?"

✽✽✽

The first week they let them escape, everyone was too afraid to let them take the train. The train is the quickest way from NYC to anywhere outside of the city, unless you're flying. Marley guessed you could fly to Connecticut, where she lived, if you have millions of dollars and don't mind burning it on private flights. And she was sure the galoot she was hiding in the backseat of her car wouldn't have blinked twice if she'd asked him to fly them out. Their handlers would have had about six different coronaries, though, because flights are hard to hide. Details would have leaked. They were too paranoid about letting them take the train, for cryin' out loud! And so, she was given the smallest non-descript black SUV in existence, and allowed to drive the entire two-hour journey. Really, it's closer to three when you have to figure in wee-stops. And Harry always had to wee. But no one will mention to anyone that they stopped anywhere. Even with ratty hats and sunglasses.