In This World (Harry Styles)

7

(DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. It's important to remember this is all totally fabricated, embellished, and exaggerated for entertainment purposes.)

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Let it lead your love away

I never strayed

Let it bury you away

In all your blame, in all your pain

I will carry you always

Carry You – Novo Amor

Since I was already drenched and my head was dripping with suds, I told him to get out while I took a proper shower. As I later brushed my teeth, I could hear that housekeeping had arrived and he spoke to them in flawless Japanese. I was impressed, but wouldn't give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud. Who even was he? The nerve of this bloke, bursting into my bloody hotel room and crashing my party. Ruining a sweet afternoon of much needed recouperation and well ...pussy. Now I was hung over and dehydrated and mostly confused.

Where were we going exactly? He hadn't really said, and I hadn't really pressed him on an answer since my junk was out and I wanted nothing more than for him to vanish so I could collect myself in peace. 'Bumfuck nowhere,' he'd said in that obnoxiously upbeat Aussie way. It was way too early for this shit. Oh wait...it was actually well into the afternoon. So where on earth was 'bumfuck nowhere'? Someplace dreadfully rural, no doubt. I hoped we wouldn't leave the main island, but something told me this was probably inevitable. I just needed a single room to unwind in, and I ought to be able to survive his company for a few weeks. I'd have to let him down easy after that, because I had my own team back home and didn't really need him long.

When I finally left the toilet, he was missing and the room was silent. Relieved, I began gathering my things, singing "Blinding Lights." Housekeeping had changed the sheets and it was tempting as hell to lay back down and sleep his existence away. I was sure he'd be returning soon, banging on the door and ruining any hopes I had for possibly escaping him. With suspicion, I moved and peered into the full living area, only to find him half-lounging on the second sofa, fast asleep. Fuck's sake.

His long, muscly arms were crossed over his chest and his jacket was missing. He was wearing a black t-shirt and fitted jeans, but they weren't skinny in the least. Rather Gen X. Black distressed boots, almost hipster. He dressed like a guy who genuinely wasn't trying to impress anybody, and that in and of itself was impressive. He was such a different character, I couldn't figure out whether I liked him just yet. He'd just come on so strong it was difficult to feel anything other than annoyance at the minute. Still, a part of my mind kept registering the fact that he was unbelievably gorgeous. Gorgeous in a way that made it impossible to be angry at him. One of the most handsome guys I'd seen in a while who wasn't strutting down a runway. Pity, that. With a face like his, he had defo missed his calling. Defo? Defo?? What the hell?? I was already speaking like him.

He shifted a little, but didn't wake. I wandered closer, keen to observe him in the small window I'd have of him being unconscious and thereby bearable in the least. What I found was a creature hyper-attractive in every way. Chiseled from head to foot. But that wasn't it. To suggest that his good looks were the sum of him would be a disservice to his larger-than-life personality and renown career. Given some time, the name Grayson Cain had finally dawned on me as the widely revered composer my team had been discussing me working with for some time now. There had forever been the obstacle of him being unavailable and incredibly elusive, as he rarely took on new work and lived remotely. Off-grid, they'd always said. So that dream had never come to fruition, until recently.