Love in Photographs

23. Dad?

September 2, 2015

    London was everything I'd imagined it to be and more. Growing up, I was always a fan of classic British Literature, so once I felt the crisp air, saw the old brick streets and buildings, I felt like I was living in a dream. Since we'd be in the UK or Ireland for the remainder of the month, Grace went to our apartment to pack up all my things for me while I was in Colorado. I figured our flight would take forever and we'd have a million layovers, but it slipped my mind that Harry would have his own private jet (which I totally eye-rolled at, but that's beside the point).

    The flight did take most of the night though, and we got to London so late that we crashed once we got to the hotel. I slept for four hours, waking up at 3:00 in the morning. I figured it was due to getting used to not taking the sleeping medication anymore and from being jet-lagged. I left Harry asleep in the bed while I walked out onto the balcony. The air was very cool, but not too cold with a robe on. I sat, looking at the moon and stars, watching traffic go by and breathing in the very different air.

    "Jet-lagged?" I hear Harry's footsteps behind me before he speaks.

    "A bit. Also getting used to the whole no sleeping meds thing," I admit, looking up sheepishly at him. "It helped when I punched myself to sleep."

    He raises his eyebrows at me, knowing that there was something he was missing.

   

    "Oh," I laugh, shaking my head. "I started boxing. The trainer at the rehab center was brutal. It was fun though. Good form of anger management, exercise, and sleep medicine."

    "Well," He smiles conspiratorially. "The gym downstairs is equipped for boxing and I happen to practice the art myself. I can spot you. Too tired to blow off some steam?"

    "Definitely not." I smile, hopping up and making my way to my suitcase.

    I dig for comfy workout-style clothing. I find a pair of yoga shorts and a black muscle-tee style tank and grab a Calvin Klein sports bra to wear underneath. Harry's in the bathroom, so I decide to change in the bedroom. I pull the shorts on under my robe and take my bra off, relishing in the absence of the hell-like wires. I turn around to grab the sports bra from the bed, and Harry is standing in a pair of long black Nike shorts and an old AC/DC shirt, his hair in a bun, staring at me with darkened eyes.

    "Sorry," I blurt, covering myself with one hand and grabbing the bra with the other, hastily putting it on and throwing the tank top over my head and stalling even more by putting my hair up before turning back around. "Ready to go?"

    "Yeah," He nods, clearing his throat. "Let's go."

    We walk down down the quiet hallway and into the elevator in awkward silence, passing absolutely no one of any danger in the hallways. I was very afraid that a fan would be psycho-stalking Harry and waiting for us in the hallway or once we got out of the elevator.

    Upon entering the gym, I start to freak out when I see there's one more person in the gym until I realize the face.

    "Niall?!" I squeal, and he turns around, a wide smile on his face.

    "Stevie! You're back!" He huffs, taking the boxing gloves off his hands and walking over to us. "I'd hug you, but I seriously stink right now. Consider this a courtesy."

    "Noted," I laugh. "Why are you up so late... or early?"

    "We're playing Croke Park in a week. I can't sleep because I'm so fucking thrilled. So, I'm trying to get rid of all these jitters so I can sleep." He answers. "Why are you two here?"