Heat - Harry Styles

ten

"Oh, to be young and in love," my grandmother sighed as she leaned back in her black rocking chair, taking a sip of her iced tea. The lemon wedge brushed against her wrinkled cheek as she brought the glass up to her mouth.

"Mims," I laughed as I ran my brush over my canvas, "that's seriously overkill. I knew the boy for three days. It was hardly love."

We were sitting on her front porch just as we had done for years. She watched me with a grin on her face as I worked on my most recent commission. I lived for these days with my grandmother, and I had waited all week to get her advice on everything that had happened with Harry.

"I was in love with a musician once," she continued. "It was before I met your grandfather, of course."

"I'm begging you to stop," I joked as I pulled my right hand up to my face, gently brushing stray hairs from my eyes.

The sun was shining brightly and there was a wonderful breeze that rustled through the jasmine that lined the perimeter of my grandmother's yard. Yards were hard to come by in Charleston as land on the peninsula was scarce, but my grandmother boasted one of the largest and most beautiful in the city. She prided herself on it. I often found myself scolding her for the long days she spent out in the heat, bent down over a flower bed. I pleaded with her to hire more gardeners – God knows she can afford it – but she always insisted that she was the only one who could really do things right.

"This Harry boy doesn't sound half bad," she adds.

I rolled my eyes and continued working on my painting. "I reckon he isn't all bad, but he certainly gets my goose. I mean, he kept this from me for so long. Mims, can you imagine if Dad had gotten his hands on those photos?"

"Oh bee," she chuckled out my nickname as she leaned back in her rocking chair. "I can see his face now, red as a beet. A rock star – and a British one at that. He's your father's worst nightmare."

"Ugh," I groan as I throw my head back. "It's probably best that it didn't work out. It saves me the trouble of explaining how I got involved with him."

"Well, if I had my druthers, you and Harry would work things out. I haven't seen you get this flustered over a boy since you were just a little thing," she drawled.

I sighed quietly but didn't respond to my grandmother's statement. She was right, after all. I hadn't gotten this excited about a boy in quite some time, but that didn't change the fact that Harry was being deceitful the entire time I knew him.

"People make mistakes, Honeybee, but that's what second chances are for."

_

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"Shot!" I hear Charlotte yell as I throw another one back. It didn't take much convincing for her to get me to go out tonight. It had been a long, confusing week and I really just needed some fun.

It was her first night back in town and we decided to spend it at a place that was much too classy for us to be behaving in the way that we were. Tourists were shooting us dirty stares as we guzzled down liquor, but the owners were family friends so it didn't really matter.

"Shot!" I laughed as the cinnamon whiskey slid down my throat.

"Hugh," Charlotte called out to the bartender, "we need two more!"

He chuckled and shook his head, quickly whipping out two more shot glasses and pouring us fireball. My drunken eyes ogled the brown liquid as it filled the small glass. I smiled giddily at the fullness, wanting nothing more than the sweet burn of alcohol.