Unlikely (H.S.)

fourteen

~Harry~

Morning in London was crisp and fresh, a perfect start to my day of travel. The sun was just beginning to rise as I packed my bags, the quiet of the early hour providing a rare moment of calm before the whirlwind of my trip. My suitcase was methodically packed with everything I would need—comfortable clothes for New York's eclectic energy and my sharpest golf attire for the charity tournament. I double-checked my essentials: my golf clubs, my favourite sneakers, and a few good books to unwind with. Not to mention a whole lot of space for what I could need to buy while in Toronto.

As I finished packing, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, a comforting routine in my otherwise busy life. I took a last glance around my room, ensuring nothing was left behind. My guitar, a constant companion, rested against the wall, a reminder of the melodies that often played during my travels. With one last check of my phone, I noticed a sweet message from Harper. I smiled and felt a flutter of excitement.

HJ: Have a safe flight! I'll probably be asleep when you take off, so be safe! Have so much fun!

HJ: Let me know when you land! 💜

My heart swelled at her messages.

The flight to New York was smooth and uneventful, with clear skies and a breathtaking view of the Atlantic. As we approached the city, the landscape transformed into a patchwork of bustling streets and towering skyscrapers. I felt a familiar thrill as we touched down. The city's vibrant energy was palpable, even from the airport. My driver greeted me, and we made our way to the hotel, the sights and sounds of New York greeting me like an old friend.

After settling into my room, I took a moment to relax and prepare for the day's events. The hotel was a blend of modern luxury and historic charm, with large windows offering a stunning view of the city skyline. I had a few hours to kill before I had to be at the tournament, so I decided to grab a quick nap before freshening and getting dressed for a day of golf.

In my best yellow plaid pants and green polo shirt, I arrived at the charity golf tournament. The day bright and clear, with the crisp New York air filled with anticipation, the exclusive golf club, a sprawling estate just outside the city, where the event was being held. The greens stretched out before me, immaculate and inviting, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of calm wash over me as I stepped out of the car.

I made my way to the clubhouse, I was greeted by event organizers and fellow participants—mostly a mix of athletes, actors, and a few other musicians. There was an easy camaraderie among us as we exchanged pleasantries and talked about our golf games, or in my case, the lack thereof. I wasn't the best golfer, but I enjoyed the sport and was happy to be there supporting a good cause.

The first few holes were a mixture of frustration and fun. I'd hit a few decent shots, then immediately follow them up with ones that landed in the rough or even in a bunker. My playing partners—two actors and a retired baseball player—were good-natured about my struggles, offering tips and encouragement between swings. It wasn't long before the laughter flowed as easily as the conversation.

As we moved to the next hole, I noticed a group of men a few tees ahead, their heads turning in my direction as they whispered to each other. I'd seen that look before—it was the kind of excitement that usually led to a fan encounter. Sure enough, as we got closer, one of the men, probably in his mid-50s with a broad grin, approached me.

"Harry Styles, right? My daughters are huge fans," he said, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Would you mind saying a quick hello to them? It would make their day."

I chuckled, nodding. "Of course, I'd be happy to."

He pulled out his phone, quickly dialling one of his daughters. When she picked up, her face filled the screen, her eyes going wide as she realized who was on the other end.