Moon Bay // Harry Styles Series #2 - Ghana

Choices

I was a recent American University graduate, with a degree in Art History and without much direction, when I met Peter Hughes at a dinner given by my grandmother. His work for her good friend the ambassador to Kenya had brought him to my influential family's attention.

Twenty years my senior, he was charming and driven, climbing the State Department ladder. I was well-bred and intelligent; a winning combination for a diplomat's wife. In spite of the age difference it was not only a good match on paper, it also happened to be love at first sight.

But every silver lining has its grey cloud. Peter was immediately and entirely honest about his. He explained, we discussed, disagreed, compromised. Peter gives me what he can, and understands that now and then I find what the accident took away from him elsewhere. It's my greatest sadness that he's not able to enjoy what I'm willing and able to give.

And so, from time to time, Moon Bay was a different kind of haven for me. The owners, Gladys and Sam, and Sabir of course, knew the secret. They were the people I trusted most in the world, I suppose. When we moved on to Peter's next post in a year I would have to re-think things. Find a new escape, new confidantes.

This time I had truly meant to be alone for a few days. Just myself and a book, considering possibilities, strategizing. I'd been happy when Gladys told me I might be the only guest.

Suddenly, I found myself even happier that I wasn't.

*****

I ate by myself. The band had invited me to eat with them, but I preferred to observe them a bit before jumping in. I was picking at a lemon tarte and working on my second glass of wine when the boys rose from their table and Harry came to stand by me.

"Thank you, for this afternoon. You were very kind."

His voice and accent were unlike any I'd heard before, melodic and a bit sleepy.

"I'm glad I could help. I don't like seeing a young person in distress."

"I'm not that young. I'll be nineteen in a week." His tone was defensive. The baby of the group.

"You're all young to me. I'm embarrassed to say I don't think I know any of your music, but Fred and George assure me you're just about the biggest thing around."

"I guess maybe we are. Do you have a laptop here with you? You could google us. You might like us. We appeal to a wide variety of listeners," he smiled as he gave me a little side eye, "even your age."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Ah, now you're making me feel old!"

"How old are you, then?"

The one with the wide blue eyes, Louis, appeared at our side and smacked Harry on the head.

"Harry, don't you know you never ask a lady her age? Allow me to apologize for this young man, miss." He was weaseling himself between me and Harry. It was amusing.

I may have been more than ten years older than Louis, but somehow I didn't think age would be an issue with this bunch.

I took my drink and walked around both Louis and Harry to sit on a loveseat at the far end of the pavilion. They followed, joined by the beautiful one, Zayn, who always seemed to look like he was on the verge of tears. He took an armchair nearby, while Harry sat next to me and Louis perched on the arm, his attention on my décolletage. I debated letting him see more of me.

"Zayn, what were your thoughts about Accra?" I leaned forward, across Harry's lap, to speak to him. I was almost certain I heard Harry sniff my hair.

"I was upset. It was hard, you know, seeing the children and the filth. The smell was terrible. I hope we helped them."

He really looked as though he might cry. He would still have been beautiful.

"I called my girlfriend after. She didn't really understand... how could she? But it was good to hear her voice. She promised she'd be waiting at the airport the next time we get home."

I knew that tone of voice. He would be faithful. And probably better for me not to have the temptation of his dark and exotic beauty.

"I hope our trip tomorrow morning will help you all feel better about it."

"I think so." He stood. "It's nice having someone who doesn't want an autograph to chat with, but I'm expecting a call. Goodnight."

He stepped out of the pavilion and disappeared in the direction of Half Moon Point.

Louis, who had been in whispered conversation with Harry, moved off to chat with Fred and George. Liam and Niall were playing cards on one of the dining tables. Harry leaned toward me, his knee brushing mine.

"Really, how old are you?" A ghost of a smile crossed his lips, pulling the corners of his mouth deeper into his cheeks.

"I'm not going to tell you. Does it matter so much?"

"I'm not sure. You're married."

He looked at the significant diamond and sapphire ring on my finger.

"I am. Does it matter?"

"I'm not sure..."

I could tell this was confusing territory for him. He was, after all, not quite nineteen.

"My marriage is very happy, but... every marriage is different. In ours we have to make concessions. Do you understand?"

He slowly rolled his lower lip between his fingers as he thought long and hard about what I'd just said.

"I'm not sure."

"Maybe I'll explain another time, but right now we should say goodnight. We have an early start tomorrow. I'm looking forward to showing you the village. Will all of you be coming?"

"Louis won't. He's... not as interested. I'll come, and Zayn. Liam as well, I think. Niall might not. He likes a good lie in."

"After the week you've had I can't say that I blame him. Sabir, my security, will come into the village with us tomorrow. I think George said he'll join us as well."

Suddenly tired, I found myself yawning. "The wine seems to be catching up to me."

"May I walk you to your bungalow?" Harry stood, holding out his hand. A gallant boy doing what he thought was the manly thing.

"Thank you."

He pulled me up and off my seat gently. I let him keep my hand in his as we walked across the lawn to my bungalow, the farthest from the boys' out on the point, and closest to Big Beach.

"Goodnight, Annie."

He kissed me on the cheek, his lips gentle and dewy.

When the knock sounded on my door half an hour later, I was sure it was him.

It was Louis.

"I wondered if maybe you'd like a bit of company. It's still quite early; the evening doesn't have to end for us."

Quite confident of himself, that one.

He might have been diversion material, but I felt no need to be diverted at that moment.

"That was thoughtful, Louis, but I've had a long day, and I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to invite you in."

The finality in my tone told him all he needed to know about 'us' and although he tried, he couldn't hide the disappointment on his face.

After seeing him off, I took a long shower, got in bed, and turned on my laptop.