Don't Do This.

Tres

“On the road again,” I say, pulling a bite from my sour strawberry shoelaces. 

“So let me get this straight, you stopped at a pharmacy to buy sour straws—”

“Shoelaces,” I interrupt. 

“Shoelaces, whatever, you bought them and a Dr. Pepper, when you’re about to go to a bakery, where you’ll have to get food. Is that the best idea?”

“Yes. I looked it up. The vanilla slices are apparently great, and the same review said to get them early, so I think this is early.” 

“It’s 9 in the morning!! People here are supposed to be eating BEANS. Not ‘vanilla slices’ or whatever that is!”

“Vanilla squares. Lemon squares. Ring a bell?”

“Bitch,” he mutters, looking out the window. 

“Don’t make me drive this car on our side of the rode,” I joke. I hear a snort and continue down the road. 

“You want to joke about that when you’ve already done it?” 

“Shut up.” I turn up the radio to fill the now evident silence. 

“This is your night with arms wide open. I’m the option you shouldn’t have chosen. Scared of the dark, the door’s wide open. This is the night you’ll regret in the morning.” My thoughts seemed to filter out the song, though. It was like a pack of giant bees were let loose up in there, stinging all of my nerves. 

“We’re here.” I could feel myself shaking as I parked the car in the parking lot behind the store. “I’m not ready for this.”

“Len, you’ve been ready for this since you found out Harry Styles existed,” Park assured me. I hope he’s right. We walked up to the building and I started getting clammy palms. “Well come on,” Park said, holding open the door for me. The room was warm. Compared to the outside, I should’ve worn something under this sweatshirt. There was a nice yellow cast of lighting that filled the room. 

“Ooh, groceries,” I say trying to distract myself. The food looked too good to be true. The entire place smelled like the bread. I was drooling the entire time. 

“What are you doing?” Park whispered in my ear as I began to look through the aisles. 

“Don’t worry, I have a plan. I want to make sure he’s here before jumping to get something. The last thing I want is to fly all the way down here, only to—” There he is. I do a double take, making sure it’s him. Jon follows my gaze, nudging me back to my senses. I’m still staring though. He’s just so beautiful. All of the makeup and hair gel and beauty shit is gone. It almost seems unreal. His hair is like it used to be, not in that distorted quiff. Just the messy mop it used to be. He’s humming, wiping off the counter and waiting for his bread to cook. He raises his hand to scratch his forehead with his thumb, getting a little flour there. 

“Lennon,” Park tempts, waving a pack of shoelaces in front of my face. I blink, actually coming back to reality now. 

“What?” I ask, pretending to look at candy bars. 

“Go talk to him. And get me one of those square, slice, whatever things. You know what I mean,” he says, shoving me over to him. 

“Good morning, love. And what can I get for you this fine day?” Harry asks, looking into my eyes, I stutter, unable to think straight. Don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy.

“Uhm, may I have two of,” I pause and point at them in the display, “those?” 

“Those? You mean the vanilla slices?”

“Y-yeah. Those.” He chuckles. 

“Americans. So jittery. Where you from, love?” he tries. 

“A-America?” 

“Clever girl. I like that. So how long have you been here, then?” he retries. 

“Since last night.” Thank god. I’m starting to calm down. 

“I see. You over at the Premier?” he asks, looking up at me. 

“Yeah. We were just looking around and could smell the bread from about a mile away, and I’ve been drooling ever since,” I say, trying to ease the mood. 

“Oh. So you and your boyfriend, you don’t know your way around then?” I can’t help it. I begin laughing, only to recieve a strange look from Harry.

“Sorry, it’s just that, yes, we’re helplessly lost, but Park’s gay, and not my type,” I say after calming down. His eyes widen in response. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I just thought that—”

“No big deal. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last.” Shit shit shit shit shit what was I thinking, interrupting him?!

“Oh, well here’s your 'things’,” he says, smiling and handing me the slices. 

“I would have called them what they look like to me, but that’s probably incorrect terminology. How much do I owe you?” 

“Nothing, love. On the house.”

“What? No. I can’t accept that,” I say, taking the opening. 

“Oh yes you can,” he retorts, flashing a cheeky smile at me. 

“Nope. I have to pay you somehow.”

“Oh really?” he says, crossing his arms. 

“Yes really.”

“And how do you suppose to do that?”

“Well…how do you suppose I do that?” I say, praying he’ll take the hint. 

“Uh, how about dinner?” Score. 

“Okay, you pick where you want to go, and I’ll pay.” He smiles cheekily. 

“When should I pick you up?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m picking the place, right? And you’d get hopelessly lost if you drove.” He’s got a point. 

“How about seven?”

“Seven it is,” he says with a smile. I hear Park behind me, poking my shoulder. 

“Lennon! I want one!” he wines. I turn around, handing him a slice. “Omigod, this is amazing!” Park says, mouth full of slice. “Come on. I’ll want to buy another if we don’t go.” 

“Bye love! See you at seven!” he says as I leave. 

“Bye!” Park drags me to the car, me eating my vanilla slice as I go. 

“Should I drive?” Park asks. I nod, still staring straight ahead. I turned on Kirby and set him on the dash, tapping the hotel’s address. 

“Len,” Jon cautions after a long silence. “Lennon?”

“Hmm?” 

“Ed Sheeran’s on the radio.”

“Really?” I ask. I guess I’d been a tad spaced out. 

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” I tell him. He laughs in response.

“Clean cut kid without a razor for the mustache. I hit back when the pen hurts me. I’m still  a choir boy in a Finchurch tee. I’m still the same as a year ago, but more people hear me though, according to my MySpace and YouTube videos. I’m always doing shows, if I’m not I’m in the studio, truly broke, never growing up, call  me Ruffio. Melody music maker, read in all the papers, they say I’m up and coming like I’m fucking in an elevator.” Is it weird that this calmed me down? I think so. Ed Sheeran just has that effect on me. With Kirby’s help, Park drove us back to the hotel. Park helped me out of the car, got me to the room, and I went insane.