A Single Daffodil [Harry Styles]

Jim-Jams.

The alarm clock sitting next to my bed read 5:32 am.

I stared at it, hoping that reading the time would trigger some sort of fatigue. It didn't. I felt restless, wide awake, and suddenly claustrophobic in these hotel bed sheets.

I violently twisted under the sheets, laying flat on my back. Sleep was useless to me at this point. It was practically non-existent.

Another five restless minutes went by before I decided staying in this empty hotel room (Sophia, who should be sleeping in the bed next to me, was spending her fifth night in a row at Niall's.) was going to do nothing for me. My mind was too loud and much too awake for me to just lay around. I needed some type of release for the unhinged scrutiny that was brewing inside my brain.

I heaved the sheets and blankets away from my body and jumped out of bed, pausing only for a moment to let the light-headedness subside. I tied up my hair into a bun and stumbled over to the closet. I was too preoccupied with the idea of getting out of here, that I didn't even bother to turn on the light. I felt around in the closet blindly until my fingertips touched the familiar fabric of my workout clothes. In one swift motion, I ripped my pajamas off and replaced them with my Nike running tights, sports bra and an oversized crop top. I pulled out my running jacket from Nike too, quickly zipping it up over my torso. Even in the summertime, mornings in London can be fairly cool.

My heart started racing the second I stepped out of my hotel room and into the noiseless hallway. The anticipation of running was suddenly so inviting. It was a new feeling, a feeling that could keep all my other frazzled thoughts at bay.

"Good morning, Graham!" I greeted the doorman with a warm smile as he opened the main doors for me. 

Graham was almost always at the entrance of the Langham hotel. In fact, I don't recall a time he wasn't standing there, waiting patiently for guests to arrive and depart. He was an elderly looking chap, but always looked smart and collected in his grey suit, white gloves, and top hat. I couldn't help but appreciate how he always had a tiny flower pinned to the lapel of his jacket. When I asked him about it one day, he told me he liked picking a fresh flower from his wife's garden each morning before work.

"Good morning, Miss. Vita. " He greeted cheerfully, letting the door slowly close behind me. I begged him to call me by my first name and not Spoelstra because it made me sound too grown up. It took him a couple of days to get the hang of it. "You're up early this morning. Would you like me to call you a cab?"

"No thank you, Graham." I jumped down a couple of the marble steps before turning around to face him. "I'm going for a morning run!"

"Very well, Miss.Vita." He nodded politely, placing his hands behind his back. "In that case, I recommend you make a right when you leave the grounds. There are more parks and squares in that direction."

I grabbed my left foot with my right hand, pulling it towards my back to stretch my muscles. When I let it drop back down, I grinned at Graham. "Thanks for the heads-up. I knew there was a reason we became friends!"

Graham offered a bashful smile as I saluted him before jogging away from the entrance. I wondered how rare it was for Graham to have pleasant conversations with guests who stay at the hotel. After witnessing the disregard for hotel doormen firsthand back in Miami, I liked going out of my way to be polite to people like Graham. They always ended up being the most lovely people around.

The second I turned right, I picked up speed immediately. The sidewalk beneath me blurred as I felt a surge of adrenaline pulsate throughout my body. I surrendered myself to the miraculous beat of my Nike clad feet hitting the ground. Finally, I found solace in releasing the restlessness and energy through exercise. I felt euphoric, my soul slowly reaching its summit, I was running and I felt free.

I ran for what seemed like forever, which was fine by me. When I run, I have to stay focused on my breathing, slowly inhaling and exhaling. The sky was a hazy blue, twilight now melting away and dissolving into a majestic sunrise.

Eventually, I stumbled upon a familiar road that I was sure I've visited before. I took another right and continued to sprint, hoping the road would lead me to a park. I could feel my breathing start to tighten and my lungs burn as I ran even faster. My lungs burned so badly, my eyes started to water but I kept going. At the end of the lane, I could see a wide opening so I pushed even a little harder to get there faster.

Before I knew it, I was running right into the middle of a deserted Trafalgar Square. When a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead, I slowed down and stopped right in front of the nearest water fountain. I bent over, clutching onto my knees as I gasped for air. I felt dizzy, realizing I may have pushed myself a little too far with the running. My whole body ached and my lungs were on fire.

I stood up straight, placing my hands behind my head as I looked around. Dawn had arrived, the sun's early morning colors peeking out from behind the grand National Museum. The pink and orange-colored rays were climbing over the vast dome that sat on top of the building. I continued to walk further into the empty square, taking in my surroundings. The clouds above were no longer just their typical grey color but were lit with a fantastic, warm glow.

"Wow," I whispered, climbing up the large steps that surrounded Nelson's column so I could get a better look. London was so beautiful in the early morning. Even as the long morning shadows were distinct against the cobblestone, the fountain's water glittered invitingly.

The cool air whipped the loose strands of hair that fell out of my bun as I unhurriedly wandered around Nelson's column, dragging the blades of my fingers against the cool marble of the statue. It felt good to finally see this place, like really see this place and not just admire it from a rooftop party close by. I paused briefly, remembering how embarrassing that night was.

I closed my eyes and let my hand drop from Nelson's column.

Last night was even worse.

Was I a fool for acting the way I did at the game? I'll admit, I was a little intense, but was I really that bad?

Harry seemed to think so.

I sighed, walking around the column until I could see the National Museum again. I dropped down onto one of the steps, letting my feet dangle off the edge.

When I decided to come to London with my dad and his team, I had no intentions of seeing Harry while I was here. Yes, he did cross my mind when I made the decision, but I figured the likeliness of bumping into him while I was here was almost as likely as giving Queen Elizabeth a high five. And besides, I didn't want to see him. I knew if I saw him, even for a second, I would fall for it all over again. It, being his smile, his enticing twinkling eyes, his stupid dumb nose. All of the things that made him beautiful and kind were exactly what I spent the past year trying to forget.

And yet, every time I set my eyes on him, my feelings came rushing back. It's something I can't prevent from happening. He was like a terrifying tornado, and I was the crickety old house in his path, ready to be demolished. Seeing him and talking to him and interacting with him has ruined me.

The worst part of all was, he didn't feel the same way. As much as it pains me to admit it, the stupid and naive girly part of my brain had somehow imagined up this whole thing where the second Harry and I would see each other again, he'd realize how much he missed me too. And that he would realize how much it didn't make sense that we weren't together and that he, I don't know, still loved me after all this time.