Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 70

HARRY STYLES

Hailing a cab in New York City was near the top of the list of things I hated in life. I swear, if I could narrow down all of them, the delayed flights, cold coffee, overzealous paparazzi, overbearing fans, broken air conditioners, the feeling of microfiber towels, snakes, and more... well this, hailing cabs in this city... this would probably land at number two or three. The chaos, the shouting, the flailing hand gestures that never seemed to work unless someone was practically hanging out in the middle of traffic. It all annoyed me, made my skin itch, and bothered me. Add jet lag and a pounding heart, and it felt like punishment.

But the things I'm willing to do for love still manage to surprise me.

I would cross oceans, fight through packed crowds of strangers, and make a complete fool of myself for her. Every time.

Every damn time. Forever.

If there's even a sliver of a chance at hearing her laugh in real-time again.. For that, I'd go through every form of chaos the universe could throw my way.

My plan, if I could even call it that, wasn't fully formed. More like a loosely stitched dream with frayed edges. I couldn't waste another minute in silence, not hearing from her. The space between us had taken on a life of its own, now daring one of us to break first, to throw down the gauntlet and fight for what we had on tour.

That tour was magic. Our love bloomed in it, flourished, sparkled, burned bright. And while the music faded and cities blurred behind us, the imprint never left. Now, we needed to restore it to its full glory and remind each other how special what we had was.

I knew this was real love because it hadn't faded with distance. It hadn't dulled like some memory softened by the passing time. If anything, it had grown sharper. Every part of me still lit up at the thought of her. Her laugh in the sunshine. The way she'd curl her fingers around mine spinning slow circles over my skin. The smell of her in the dark. It's when the rest of the world went quiet for me.

My feelings.

It wasn't waning. It wasn't failing. It wasn't dissipating.

It was deeper now.

When her name flashed across my screen, I was mid-flight, head lolling against the window, caught somewhere between a dream and the hum of the engine. I missed the call by seconds. Regret punched a hole in my chest, but I tried to console myself with the thought that I needed to be rested. I wanted to look alive when I saw her. We had so much catching up to do.

I imagined her back home, her home, where things were more complicated for her. I worried that I hadn't made it any easier. She returned to a city brimming with ghosts of her past: Mia, Chase, her father. She faced all of it without me.

I should've been there. I should've never let her walk back into that world alone.

Elle doesn't need me to fix her. She never has. That's one of the first things I loved about her. But that doesn't mean I don't want to do everything I can to make her life easier, softer, warmer. She deserves ease. She deserves to feel like the sun shines a little more just for her.

It was Liam who pushed me over the edge. The night before I booked the flight, we sat on his balcony, nursing some tea that Bear made us, watching the sun sink low over the hills. He saw the restlessness before I even opened my mouth.

"You don't have to live in New York forever," he said, watching me with this knowing sort of look. "Just long enough till you both figure out the future. The next step or whatever."