I've done nothing, and I mean nothing but work on this dumb fucking jumpsuit since the moment Harry left my apartment. In so many words we decided to be friends. He never said the word friends, but he suggested for us to ease ourselves, do whatever feels right. So he chose the no labels situation, that's basically what this is. It's not what it is though because I haven't seen him since he was here. Now I'm in my showroom, the lights are off besides my work space. Today I opened it up for the first time, people were in and out, I didn't have any appointments so it was relaxed but right now I'm anything but. I was using my sewing machine, one of the only things I refuse to live without, no matter where I am or what I'm doing, and right now I'm stitching the chest, hand stitching lace to this sheer material is the worst task I have ever-
"Fuck." I stick myself as my phone rings, and the needle tears a piece of the hanging lace. "God dammit." I mumble, and set the piece down, picking up my phone, and seeing Harry's name. "Hello?" I ask, and hear a short warm laughter.
"Mm Hello Eileen." He practically hums into the phone, and I haven't heard my full name in a long time.
"Someone's in a good mood... Did you need something?" I ask.
"Just needed to hear your voice. Now, the real reason I called. Are you doing something?" He asks, and I look at the pile of black material sat in front of me, and my now bleeding finger.
"I'm just at my apartment." I tell him, tired of sweating over this jumpsuit that I'm starting to hate again.
"Aloonneee?" He asks, and I laugh.
"Yes I'm alone. What are you on right now?" I ask with laughter, feeling his mood seep through the phone.
"Marijuana if you must know, we were at the studio." He laughs, and I roll my eyes. "You said you were alone, doing nothing?" He asks, and I smile.
"Yes I'm alone, and doing nothing." I repeat his words.
"How about you be alone with me, and you do nothing with me?" He asks, and I laugh. "I'm serious, come over." He asks again, and I smile.
"Fine if you're insisting. Do you need me to bring anything?" I ask.
"Nothing but yourself."He hums again, and I roll my eyes.
"I'll be there soon." I tell him, and I look at the voicemail notification from yesterday as I do. A missed doctors appointment, something I should never have done but I overslept, and I've been feeling good lately. I haven't had a flare up in months. Last one was when I first moved to Milan but it was minor, nothing to freak out over. My doctors there took care of it. I'll reschedule at some point, but that's not right now, right now I'm going to see Harry. I'm out, and in my rental in seconds, ignoring the fact that I have to return this, and actually get myself a car soon. I drive to his address, remembering it from the last time I was there, and I drive, listening to the light sound of music as I do. I'm still taken back when I pull up to the house, seeing it's size, and beauty. I get out, and walk up to the front, knowing I don't look like I normally would. I'm wearing a small tank top, and some leggings, along with some tennis shoes.
I punch the code to the gate in, surprised it's still the same as the last time, and then I walk to the door, and punch the code in there as well, walking straight into his house, I keep telling myself there's no need to be nervous because there isn't. We've had our talk, we've decided on how we feel, we've moved forward yet I'm still nervous as I close the door behind me.
"Eleanor?" I hear his voice from the living room.
"Haven't heard that one in a while." I laugh, and set my purse down on the front table, walking in.
"What did you say?" He asks, and I can see him leaning over his couch, and my eyes go a bit wide when I walk into the room. There's a few guitars sitting around, even a keyboard sitting on the dining table. There's sheet music, and papers with scribbles everywhere and I've never seen either of his houses like this.
"I said I was coming... What the hell happened here?" I ask, looking around, still taking it all in.
"It's the creative process love. What are you doing?" He asks, and I look over to him.
"I'm standing here wondering if a tornado came through your house." I laugh, and walk over some of the papers on the floor but stop myself as I pass one of the corners. Photos all over the wall. I stop and look, knowing these weren't here last time I was here. "When did these get here?" I ask, and he scrambles to stand up.
"My mum, she came by to visit some time ago, one of those sad times, and she said the house needed something, so this was my something." He stands next to me now, significantly taller now that I'm not wearing heels. I look up to the rows of pictures, all perfectly placed in their frames. There's pictures from tour, one of him and Kacey, some of him and Mitch, and with the band. The first picture Helene took of us, me Harry, and Anthony is up there. I smile looking at it, and towards the top, way over my head, hung up high I see my face, the picture of me glaring at him next to my sunflower.
"I'm shocked to see that picture up there." I tell him, and I point to the picture at the top.
"I was hurt, but I love that picture, I love it more than anything El. Even though I've been sad because of all this, I can still find happiness in some of those memories, in that picture." He tells me, and I look over to him, seeing him look up to the picture. He's smiling, the same dimple on his cheek, the same one that made me melt in the first place, the dimple that makes it hard for me to stay mad at him. "Eileen have you ever been in someone's gallery?" He asks, and I shake my head.
"Nope, not once." I tell him.
"Well you're in mine... your face hung in my gallery... He turns his head, placing his hand on his hip, and his finger on his lip. "Your face, hung up high in a gallery..." He repeats it again, and I watch his intoxicated mind work.. "Your face, hung up high in a gallery, out of this shade." He sings it in tune this time, and I watch it all unfold as he walks away from me, and around the couch, and he grabs his guitar. "Sunflower..." He starts whispering a bit, I keep hearing the word sunflower over and over again, and I walk to the couch, and sit next to him, watching him. He starts scribbling things down. He strumming on his guitar, and I've never seen him like this.
"Thought I wasn't supposed to hear any of this?" I laugh, and he waves me off with his hand.
"I don't care right now, this is perfect.. This, listen, listen." He situates his guitar, and sits up. "I've got your face, hung up high in a gallery, out of this shade... sunflower, sunflower." He looks over to me at the mention of the sunflower. I smile, listening to him create. "Your flowers, just died , plant new seeds in their memory, let me... inside, I wanna get to know yah." He has a cheeky attitude as he shares the song with me, and I prop my head up on my hand as I listen to him. "I don't wanna make you feel bad but I've been trying hard not to act a fool, my sunflower, sunflower. I couldn't want you anymore, kiss in the kitchen..." He starts fumbling with his words, but picks it back up, making up new ones. "Like it's a dance floor.. I couldn't want you anymore tonight.." He stops playing, and writes it down again, writing quickly. "El... El holy shit El, I love it." He looks back to me, and I can't hide my smile.
"I love it too.. I love it a lot actually." I think back to the lyrics, kiss in the kitchen like it's a dancefloor... My sunflower... The songs he's written, the feelings he's felt. I know not all of them will be happy like that, but that was perfect, it was adorable.
"I need to tell Mitch, and Kid, and- let me get more before I do that, El, have I ever told you you're my muse?" He asks, and his honesty tonight is taking me back, I've never seen this type of honesty from him before, but he's also under the influence of drugs right now.
"How sober are you?" I ask, and he laughs, holding his guitar.
"Halfway sober, but that doesn't matter. This is golden... hey that's a song too." He tells me, and I shake my head.
"You weren't supposed to tell me that." I remind him, and he doesn't look to me.
"I wasn't supposed to tell you that I loved you, but here I am, having told you a billion times now." Shockwaves go through me as the words slip out. I pause, and turn myself forward, not knowing how to react, and he turns to see my discomfort. "I'm, I'm sorry." He tells me, and he sets his guitar down. "You know what, no I'm not... you know I love you, I know you feel the same, and I feel like if someone means that they shouldn't hide it.. If I want to say it, I think I will, unless it bothers you..." He looks to me, and I shake my head.
"It.. It doesn't, I just need to get used to this. It went from loathing you, to tolerating you, then to loving you but hiding it, then I loved you without having to hide it for like two days, and then I went to crying and now we're here. We've never been normal so I just, yea I just need to get used to this." I tell him, and he nods.
"We're both getting used to it.. It's gonna be alright. Hey look..." He stands up, and offers a hand. "We're gonna be alright, say it with me." He pulls me up with him, and pulls me along and to the kitchen.
"We're gonna be alright." I agree. He does a swift move, getting us close to each other, the middle of the tile floor, and he starts singing the tune to me, the one he had just written as we sway together, and I'm so confused by this man.
"What are you going to name that song?" I ask him, and he shrugs as he holds me.
"Sunflower... duh." He looks to me now, and I scrunch my nose. He mimics my face, and shakes his head. "What?" He asks.
"Nothing.. Don't you think that's a bit simple? Stop playing it safe, live a little." I spin out of his grip, and open my arms wide. "Jump off the deep end, think outside the box!" I tell him.
"Well the songs about you... and us, and you told me there wouldn't be an us." He tells me, and I nod.
"One of my many flaws, yes we know." I tell him, pushing myself up so I'm sitting on the countertop.
"How many times was it? The first time of course, the time after London, Australia, Brazil, Washington, and ooh, my favorite, Sacramento.. How many is that?" He asks, and I roll my eyes.
"Six, but there were plenty more times than that." I tell him, and he shakes his head.
"Those were the ones you were serious, those were the ones that stuck with me, the others didn't matter because I ignored them." He laughs, and I watch him walk towards me slowly. "So Sunflower Volume six, each time you told me it wouldn't happen. Sunflower Volume seven will be on the next album, it'll be about the girl that I tricked into loving me." He jokes, and I push his shoulder.
"You didn't trick me into anything." I shake my head, and he raises his eyebrows.
"That is not what you said before. I recall you telling me I tricked you into dates, and meeting my family, and having feelings. I guess I'm a magician." He tilts his head, and I cross my arms over my chest.
"I knew what you were doing in the back of my head... except for the first time, we both know you tricked me into a date by saying it was a business meeting." I remind him, and he crosses an arm, and then shakes his finger as he thinks.
"The question is, didn't you do the same thing with the dinner a few days ago? Tricked me into going out with you so we'd have that talk?" He asks, and I shake my head quickly.
"I did not! I invited you out because I want to be around you, I really do, and I was going to try to tell you how I felt regardless if you did or not... I was ready." I tell him, and he shakes his head. "What?" I mumble.
"Eileen Mae Montgomery, tricking me into dates, tricking me into talking about her feelings, wanting nothing more than to talk about her own feelings, and spill the truth... I never thought I'd see the day." He jokes.
"I learned from the best didn't I?" I ask him, and he points a finger.
"True... now get your ass back here." He holds his hand out again, and I join him.
"What the hell are we doing?" I ask, and he pulls back so we're looking at each other as we move around his kitchen.
"We're doing what feels right..." He tells me, and our roles have reversed.
"We're dancing in your kitchen, talking about the times we hated each other." I laugh, and he shakes his head.
"I never hated you... Never in my life." He corrects me, and his eyes are soft.
"And how sober are you now?" I ask, and he shakes his head again.
"I'm sober... I'm sober now." He tells me, and I keep my face soft, not letting any tension come into my body right now.
"The weed you were smoking was shit then." My voice is low now, hardly above a whisper.
"It wasn't, I just had you here to sober me up." That's when his fingers graze my face. They push my hair behind my ear. I look down, disconnecting our eyes, and he flicks my chin up, his fingers softly touching under my chin as he catches my gaze again. "You have the prettiest eyes Eleanor..." He's holding my chin up, my face tilted towards him, his face only inches from mine.
"That's not my name." I whisper now.
"Eileen..." He corrects himself.
"That's better..." I agree, loving the way my name sounds from his lips, and then he closes the space. This kiss is different than the ones in Milan. It's soft, it's careful. I hesitate at first, wondering why he's doing this, but he's doing what feels right, and he thinks kissing me feels right. Anything with him feels right despite the feeling of wanting to throw up right now. He moves his lips, still careful with them, careful as if I might break right under him if he pushes too hard. I back away first, staying in his grip, but not with his kiss.
"Doing what feels right feels good El..." He presses his forehead to mine, and I suck in a breath through my teeth.
"As much as I hate to say this... it's in your control, the ball is in your court because every second of this feels right, everything has always felt right." I tell him honestly. He hums in my ear, and pulls me back to the dancing position. "Don't you have a song to write?" I ask, trying to slow down the rate of my heart right now.
"Yes... but, I'm here with you right now, you're more than a melody...." His eyes light up a bit, and I raise an eyebrow.
"Sounds like a song lyric to me..." I push, and he sinks a bit, looking for permission.
"Can I?" He asks, and I back away first.
"Who am I to stop the creative flow? Get to work, go on..." I tell him, and he pulls me along with him. "But actually, if I'm going to be here for a while, watching you work, maybe I should go home and grab my book?" I ask, and he shakes his head.
"Whatever you're reading is not worth it, I should pick out a book for you." He suggests, and I scoff.
"You don't even know what I was reading.... I bet you that you'd agree." I tell him, and he narrows his eyes.
"What will I be winning here?" He asks, and I shrug my shoulders.
"Your choice..." I pass the ball to him once more, and he stands.
"Another kiss, just one." He suggests, and I shrug.
"I'm reading The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle... the one I saw you reading on tour... Seems I've been picking up on a lot of your book recommendations lately." I tell him, and smile as his face changes.
"I personally don't think that's fair... you stole my book that I was reading, meaning there's no way I could deny that it's a good choice... I picked it." He boasts, and I raise an eyebrow.
"The narcissism is really sticking out right now... But I'll make you a deal, let me borrow your copy, and I'll give you what you wanted." I tell him, and he nods his head, sitting back on his couch.
"I'm not a narcissist, but it's on the shelf over there, bottom right corner." He tells me, and I push myself off the couch, and crouch down next to the shelf, reading the titles, and finding the one I'm looking for. I pick it up, and come back to the couch sitting down. "Forgetting something?" He asks, and I flip the book open, going to the section I was in before, and ignore him.
"Mmmmm, nope." I sit back into the couch, and he sits back too.
"Have it your way then." He mumbles, a smirk plastered to his lips, as he grips his guitar. This is how we sit. Me with my legs propped up on the couch , laying across it with my head on a pillow. He's laying down too, his table close enough for him to reach the pen and paper sat on the table as he continues to scribble on it. His guitar is on him, and his head is laid across my ankles as a pillow, his feet propped up on the arm of the couch. I'm distracting myself right now, he's a distraction... he's more than that, but he's doing it to me. I know that right now I should be back in my showroom, and I should be working on his jumpsuit, but I want to be here... I really really want to be here right now even though I'm confused about it.
"How's the song coming?" I ask over the pages of the book. He turns his head towards me, his hair messy, and his eyes low.
"How's the book coming?" He asks back, ignoring my question.
"You ignored the question, but it's great... Good recommendation." I wink, and he rolls his eyes, sitting himself up.
"Come here." He nods his head, and sets his guitar down next to him.
"Why? I'm busy..." I hold the book up, and he moves himself closer.
"No you're not... you've been distracted all night." He tells me, and I shake my head.
"You have been my distraction since you called me." I tell him, and he raises his eyebrows. "And now I see I'm becoming a distraction from the work." I tell him... "Nope get back over there." I tell him but he closes in. "Get over there, and pick up your guitar." I sit up, my back against the arm of the couch, a book still in my hand. He's smiling as he closes in, and my book covers my lips but I am too. "You're doing the exact opposite of what I'm telling you to do." I inform him, and he plucks the book from my fingers.
"Maybe it's because we never listen to what the other says... or maybe it's because you owe me something." His voice is suggestive, and he leans forward again, kissing me again, and giving me the same feeling in my chest, and my stomach of wanting to throw up. I'm not sure why I feel like this, we've laid it all out on the table. He loves me, I love him, and we're going to try to figure it out... We're going to try though, that's not set in stone, and it could mean anything. I'm wondering if this is how he felt back on tour when I said we were just friends, because right now we're not just friends... Friends don't kiss each other like this, friends don't make my heart beat out of my god damn chest everytime I see them anywhere.
"Distraction.." I mumble with a smile on my lips as I back away once more.
"How have I been distracting you? Before this moment at least." He presses on, and I hold up my finger with a bandaid on it.
"Your call was made in the midst of me sewing lace, and mesh together, I almost bled out, and I poked a hole through the lace. I should be working on that, but I'm reading a book on my ex boyfriends couch instead." I argue back, and he scrunches his face, pressing his lips together.
"I don't like that.." He informs me, and I snatch the book back from his hands.
"Like what?" I ask, flipping it back open.
"The sound of you calling me your ex boyfriend, doesn't sound pleasant to me." He tells me honestly, and I shrug my shoulders.
"It's what it is, it's what we are. We're not together, but we used to be." I tell him, and he shakes his head.
"Still don't like it." He mumbles, and I hold myself from speaking my thoughts... So change it if you don't like it so much. He won't though, he can't because I hurt him. I have a feeling that the two of us are getting ourselves into an even messier situation than we were in on tour, but I'm not going to be the one to stop it. I can't stop it because everytime I see him I feel myself falling for him more than I did before, but I'm okay with that now, even if it's not the same for him.
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Song: Sunflower Vol. 6 by Harry Styles
MY FAV SONG FROM THE ALBUM!!!!!
What do you think will happen between El and Harry? I love hearing your theories!!!
YOU ARE READING
Trendsetter (book 2) - H.S
Fanfiction"They say insanity is trying the same thing but expecting something new" - Anson Seabra. SEQUEL TO STYLIST El kept telling him it was only meant to be for one night. She kept that mentality, or tried to. Harry didn't believe one bit of the front she...
