Meet Me In The Hallway

Smooth Sailing

"You look really gorgeous, H." I watched him putting the hat on his gorgeous head of curls. I'm not sure when he decided that he was going to play into my love for his hair being long and let it grow wild, but he did and I was so thankful.

When we were in our hotel room was one of the few times he let it loose. On stage, he wore scarves wrapped around his head. Late at night, when he would make it back from the venue he's let it out, usually much before me if security decided it best to leave right as they came off stage, or hours after me if they waited until the fans left. He'd come in and I loved the nights I beat him home. I'd have changed into one of his t shirts and ordered his snack. Sometimes id spring for a bottle of wine for us to share. And I'd get to unwrap his sweaty hair. I'd pull the end loose and unravel the printed, damp, and invariably expensive cloth. His curls would be tight and they would spring up as they dried. It always felt like I was changing him from Harry Styles to my Harry. It was like putting a butterfly back in and I was the cocoon, sanctuary in our revolving space. I did love that we still had our place.

But we had more than that too. We had freedom.

The dates in South America had felt like a vacation to me. My brother wasn't performing for those, he and his boys just had the time off and wanted to see the world. I did too. And Harry was my own personal Aladdin. I think our new openness, everybody knew we were together, and the lack of constraint, the lack of even the very few hours of work I normally did was gone from my day. I felt freer than ever in my life, like the binds on my wrists and heart had been peeled away and I could run. Standing on mountaintops with Harry, I was sure I could fly.

We were so late when we made it back from Australia, Harry had basically gone straight from the airport to stage. I'd wanted to feel bad, but I felt like I had been clothed in love for the 36 hours we had spent in my childhood home. It was a rude awakening to wake up from that soft nest. Walking into the arena with Harry was nerve wracking.

"Stop," his accent was clipped. Harry said drowsing in the back of the towne car that was taking us from the airport onto the venue.

"Stop what?" I looked at where our hands were joined.

He opened his eyes and glared at the knee jumping up and down. "That!"

"I'm wired, H!"

"You are nervous, Melly. And for no reason. Told you I told everybody. Niall just laughed in my face. Said, 'yea, and? Known for ages.'" He put his hand on my knee to stop it's constant motion.

I bit my lip and asked the question I really was nervous to know the answer to, "Um, how'd it go with Michael?"

Harry lolled his head to the side then, "Well, he didn't punch me, so that was, like, a nice surprise."

"Was he mad?" He pulled me into him and it felt like he sponged off some of my nerves through the contact.

"He was—"

I sucked in my breath.

"Melly," he ran a hand over my hair, "at first. But then we talked. And I um, well I told him that we just started as friends and spent so much time together and how you became my, like, my very best friend. Michael was really concerned that I took advantage of you. He must have said you were innocent 10 times. I didn't ruin his image of you and tell him how thoroughly I've corrupted you." He put his tongue in the corner of his mouth in a way designed to turn me on or make me giggle.
It did a little of both, and it calmed me down.
"He seemed to relax once I told him that I loved you. And that you loved me and we were together." Harry emphasized the word like he had when we had had that conversation all those months before. "I'm not sure he loves that we hid it—"