Heat - Harry Styles

seventeen

"You seriously dated Mick Jagger?" Harry questioned incredulously, leaning forward in his seat.

"Oh yes," Mims cooed as she rocked back and forth gently on her rocking chair, "we went together for a few months. It was nothing serious. They had just come out with that song Satisfaction and had begun to tour here and there in the United States. It was 1965, I believe. I was up visiting New York with my father having a fancy dinner, and I swear Mick saw me from across the room and just came right up and started chatting. I was a young thing, right about your age Sloane."

"What?" I ask, completely shocked. "Mims you've never told me about this before!"

"Well I sure tried to tell you last week, but you begged me to stop," she corrected, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but you didn't tell me it was Mick Jagger!"

"You didn't give me a chance to," she shrugged nonchalantly, taking a sip of her tea. I was delighted with how well Harry and Mims were getting along. Harry was great at asking questions. He was pulling stories out of Mims that I had never heard myself.

"Do you mind telling us a little more about it?" Harry ventured.

"Oh sure," Mims began, "he was head over heels for me, bless his heart. No one could blame him though, I was a beautiful little thing. I'm telling you I was batting off suitors left and right. But Mick was infatuated. When they had a break in their little tour he would fly down to Charleston and take me to fancy dinners and drive me around in expensive cars. When he couldn't visit, he'd send me flowers and gifts." Mims began to chuckle, "I wish you could've seen my fathers face when all of those boxes started showing up. I reckon I was living in high cotton. Sometimes he'd even fly me out to his shows. I really got to see the world that way. It was an exciting way to live – on tour with The Rolling Stones."

"What did your parents think about him?" Harry ventured. I was wondering the same thing. Maybe Mims would have a little insight to how my parents might react when I told them about Harry.

"Well," she sighed, "I reckon they knew there wasn't much they could do about it. Micky was really taken with me and I liked the excitement he brought when he came into town. They weren't too pleased, but they let the thing run its course without too much fuss."

"How did it end?" I asked.

"Well, he got a little too big for his britches once his little band hit the big leagues. He still sent me fine gifts every so often, but he stopped coming around as much. I met your grandfather one night and that was it, I was in love," she smiled wistfully.

"Have you spoken to him since you broke things off?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Mims laughed, "he showed up to Charleston about a week before I was to marry Sloane's grandfather. He came over to our house and we talked for a spell on my front porch. He apologized, said he regretted not being around, you know, the usual things. He was trying to win me back, but Sloane, when I tell you he could've begged 'til the cows came home and it wouldn't have mattered one bit – I mean it. I was committed to your grandfather and I was sugar in his hand."

"Wow, what an amazing story," Harry said in awe.

"Seriously," I added. "Have you heard from him since?"

"You know, he used to send me three dozen calla lilies every year on my birthday. He finally gave it up after a while, but I must say I did enjoy them," she grinned as if remembering the glory of her youth. "Enough about me. I'd like to hear about you, Harry. How'd a British boy like you end up with my Sloane?"

"Well," he began glancing down at his hands, "I was wandering around the city and I ended up in this park on the water right around dusk. I was walking around and I saw Sloane painting and I just thought she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen."

"Pretty as a peach," my grandmother nodded in agreement. I blushed furiously and placed my hand gently on Harry's knee, squeezing a bit to encourage him to continue.

"I was so struck by her, I just had to go up and introduce myself. I felt that if I didn't take the chance now, I would never find her again and I would always think about that beautiful artist I had seen in the park. When I did finally muster up the courage to go over there, she was so easy to talk to. I figured out pretty quickly that she had no clue who I was, so that made me even more drawn to her. It's like I told Sloane," Harry recalled, "it's not very often that I get a blank slate with someone."

Harry looked at me and we smiled at each other. It was nice to hear about what he was feeling on the night we met. I hadn't realized that he'd been so romantically interested in me from the beginning. It made me feel good to have had his affection from the first night – special even.

"Well, aren't you two precious?" Mims cooed as Harry blushed lightly. "How long will you be in Charleston with us, Harry?"

"Until the end of August. I'm here all summer."

"What comes next for y'all? Are you going to whisk my Sloane away to Hollywood?"

"If she wants to come, of course," Harry confirmed as he glanced in my direction.

"We haven't really talked about it yet," I admitted.

"Well there's no need to rush now is there? You two have plenty of time to figure things out," Mims declared. I have to say, this didn't do a lot to make me feel any better about our future. Harry and I hadn't really spoken about what would happen at the end of the summer, but I wasn't dumb. I knew that he could only do so much from Charleston. Soon enough he'd jet back to Hollywood or London or New York to work on his new album. Then what? I'd be here while he was traveling the world playing for sold out crowds? I pushed the thoughts to the back of my head as I felt Harry's fingers intertwine with mine. He squeezed lightly, surely sensing the shift in my mood.

"Yeah, plenty of time," I echoed although I didn't really believe it.

-

-

"Oh my god, your grandmother is so cool!" Harry exclaimed as we entered his house. "I mean, can you believe she dated Mick Jagger back in the 60s? That is absolutely insane."

"I know, she has lived the coolest life," I replied. When these words came out of my mouth, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous of the life that my grandmother had lived. The thought of jetting off across the country and leaving my family for who knows how long made me uneasy. I had always imagined staying in Charleston my whole life, cutting camellias from my grandmother's garden and painting at the battery. A tranquil, cloistered existence in my favorite city. Harry made this dream messy. With Harry in tow there was bound to be noise and attention.

I yearned for the courage that my grandmother possessed. She was fearless. Was that the one trait I hadn't inherited from her?