The Maiden in Winter // Harry Styles Series #4

EIGHT

~H~

"Especially right now."

Bloody hell, did I just open myself up to a million questions I don't want to answer? Don't make eye contact. Drink. Maybe she won't ask.

***

~A~

As soon as he said it his brow furrowed and he stared into his half-empty pint, drained it, then looked back at me, as if he were waiting for me to say something. I was sure that all the questions and thoughts and comments swimming around my brain were much too personal, so I remained silent, sipping my drink, until he spoke again.

"You're really not going to ask me?"

"Ask you what?"

"Why I'm here. Why I said especially now."

"It's none of my business. If you want to tell me, you will."

Whatever his reply might have been, it was preempted by the noise of a boisterous crowd entering the bar. Eight or ten people, maybe in their mid-twenties, obviously out for a night of fun.

Harry looked over his shoulder at the grating sound of two tables being pushed together and one of the women seemed to freeze for a moment as she caught sight of his face.

"Bloody hell." He pulled on his hat and began to wrap the scarf.

"Time to go?" I asked, fishing some cash from my bag and tucking it under my glass.

"I'm afraid so. I know that look. She's not sure yet, but she'll say something to a friend and soon enough they'll all be staring, and it'll be over. I'm sorry, Alex."

"No. No apologies. Let's go out the door to the pier, that way we won't have to pass them. We'll just disappear."

Without thinking, I took his hand and pulled him gently behind me and out into the night.

Fog had rolled in while we were inside, and the lights of the pier were no more than softly glowing orbs that seemed to float in the mist. I kept my grip on his hand. George appeared out of nowhere, but I decided to ignore him.

"Just because we can't sit in the bar doesn't mean we have to go home, and I'd like to take advantage of my Bean-free evening. The fog is perfect for keeping a low profile. We could go down the pier." I hoped I wasn't overstepping some boundary.

After a quick, whispered exchange with George, who turned and walked away, Harry said, "Let's go." My disappointment when he took his hand from mine was fleeting, since he quickly hooked our arms together and started down the wide wooden planks.

We walked slowly, listening to the sounds of the night. Waves lapping against boat hulls, the slap of rigging against masts, and buoy bell clappers were all muffled by the damp air. Everything was softer, more peaceful.

An octagonal gazebo perched at the end of the pier, a wooden bench along each side, lit by a single bulb at the apex of the rafters. We sat, close but not touching. I broke the spell, speaking softly.

"I wonder if we'll have fog like this for Halloween. We're having our village celebration on Saturday the twenty eighth this year. There are only about a dozen kids in town, and we'll all walk the causeway to my friend Andy's place – that's the little beach house on the island - and have a party. Apple bobbing, scary stories around a bonfire, pin the tail on the black cat. I can't believe it's just two weeks away."

"I love Halloween."

"You mean Harryween?" I smiled.

He smiled too, then sighed. "The past two years it was crazy. Fantastic, but crazy. It seems like everyone expects me to do a surprise concert somewhere this year." He paused, biting his lower lip. "I hope they won't be too disappointed."