Ballet Slippers

29

We had finished – well you know - when I was lying on Harry’s chest as he stroked my hair. There were a million thoughts running through my head, but I couldn’t seem to figure out how to talk about them; it was out of place for me to have someone around that I could actually talk to you know? I had spent the every day for the last 19 years feeling alone and suddenly, I didn’t.

How could one person change all of that?

I looked up at him because his hand had stopped moving against my hair; his face was relaxed but he had that little frown on his face like he always does when he drifts off to sleep – it made him look frustrated, but I knew it meant the exact opposite.

He looked so content, so relaxed. He laid with his head on the pillow turned halfway to face mine and half way to the celling; his hair was perfectly messy as always and his one arm was underneath me around my waist – the other was gracefully resting just above his stomach.

I smiled and laid my head back down in between his shoulder and the crook of his neck – I loved the way he smelled.

I closed my eyes and just let this sink in for a second – how did I get here? How did I go from being little dancer Ella, secretly obsessing over boy bands behind my parents back and not having a care in the world when it came to school, running away from home and moving to New York, to Ella who was getting divorced, estranged from her family, and lying next to the most famous 19 year old in the world?

That’s when my thoughts stopped, and I opened my eyes, turning my body so I could look at Harry’s face again. Here I am worrying about everything in my life, worrying about all these problems that could very easily be fixed and put aside until another day, while I lie next to a person who is sleeping in a new city basically every few nights while touring, dealing with the hate and media and pressures of being famous – he was only 19.

There was a thought – 19. We are both just 19, we are so young, but yet so grown up. Yet he was so relaxed, so calm without a worry on his face. How did he do it?

Just then I felt his hand move from his stomach and he tiredly slid his fingers through mine; the small frown on his face grew a little bigger and I laughed quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“You moved, I’m cold,” he mumbled tightening his grip around my waist.

I giggled and laid my head back down into the crook of his neck again, “mm better” he said and I smiled, placing a kiss on his neck.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked me quietly.

“How did you even know there was anything?” I asked smiling still.

He mumbled, “You’re not sleeping”

“Well now neither are you”

“You can’t just move from cuddling, it off sets the warmness therefore making it impossible to sleep and-,” he paused and chuckled groggily realizing I was distracting him, “don’t avoid my question”

I kissed his neck again lightly, “it’s nothing”

He sighed and began to move, unwrapping his arm from my waist and turning a bunch of times as I giggled – into his favorite place; his head now in my neck and his arms wrapped protectively around my abdomen, “tell me”

I laughed again, “why did you have to move?”

He shrugged and kissed my collarbone, “this is better”

I smiled and ran my fingers through his hair, “it’s nothing to worry about”

“Ella”

I sighed and smiled down at him, “I was just thinking about you”