Unlikely (H.S.)

twenty-six

~Harry~

I stepped off the plane in London, the early morning fog greeting me like an old friend. My body was stiff from the long flight, but my mind was far from weary. It was still back in Toronto, lingering on Harper—the way she'd looked at me at the airport, her eyes a mix of longing and sadness, like she didn't want me to leave any more than I wanted to go.

Saying goodbye had been harder than I thought it would be. It wasn't just the physical separation; it was the realization that for the next two weeks, the space between us was going to feel a lot bigger than the miles on the map. We'd gotten so close, so fucking fast. Leaving her felt like walking away from something vital, like leaving behind air I couldn't quite breathe without.

But at least the red-eye flight had given us a little bit of privacy. No paparazzi, no random people with their phones out trying to catch a moment. Our moment.

Thank God.

It's nice to feel free every once in a while.

Just us. I could kiss her goodbye, long and slow, without worrying about anyone snapping a picture. I was grateful for that—thankful that we could have something intimate, something just ours, before I had to go.

Her arms had wrapped around me so tightly, like she didn't want to let go.

Me too, baby, me too.

And honestly, neither did I. I'd held onto her as if I could make the moment last forever, wishing I could just stay wrapped in her warmth, her scent, the feeling of her heart beating against mine. But we both had lives to focus on.

When we finally pulled apart, she'd given me this smile—small, sad, but so beautiful it had left me breathless. I could still see it now, could still feel the ghost of her touch as she'd brushed a kiss to my cheek right before I turned to leave.

I exhaled, the chill of London's morning air snapping me back to reality as I stepped out of the terminal. The driver Jeff had arranged was waiting, a black sedan parked at the curb, the engine idling softly. I climbed into the backseat, my thoughts still wrapped up in Harper, in those last few moments we'd had together before I boarded the plane.

It was ridiculous, really. I'd be seeing her again in just two weeks. But the space between now and then felt like an eternity. Everything felt different now—more intense, more meaningful. Harper wasn't just someone I was seeing. She was mine. My girlfriend. And that thought still blew my mind a little.

Girlfriend.

I have a fucking girlfriend.

I hate to think what the internet is going to think...

Please treat her kindly.

I beg of you.

It wasn't a word I'd used in a long time. I'd been nervous as hell asking her. I wasn't even sure if people still did that—officially asking, like we were in high school or something. But it had felt important to me, to make it real, to give it a label. I hadn't wanted to assume. And now, having her as my girlfriend, it made everything more...terrifying. I hadn't gone to Toronto in hopes of this happening, I just was so intrigued, I had to let myself explore it.

She wasn't just an idea anymore, or a passing thought in my head when I was on stage. She was real. And the more time I spent with her, the more intoxicated I became. It wasn't just infatuation. It was something deeper, something I couldn't quite put into words yet, but I felt it in my bones.

I feel like I'm falling in....

Stop. I can't be thinking that yet, give this whole thing time to marinate.