The Lucky Ones

Chapter 14 - A Script...

"Harry! Harry! Over here, Harry!" I kept my head down and hurried through the crowd as fast as I could. Several body guards surrounded me and I remembered why I had to have so many. America was insane. Once we were inside the lobby of the hotel with the crazy fans and paparazzi successfully blocked by glass and steel, I felt like I could breathe a bit better. I hurried to the elevator and pushed the button for the appropriate floor.

The interview that Taylor had surprised the world with had been held two days ago. Since then I’ve been handling issues with management, the press, and even a few issues with the other guys. They weren’t upset with the new relationship that I was suddenly a part of; they were more upset with the ill timing of it. This was the busiest we had ever been. But I had about as much control over the timing as I did over what our fans were saying about Taylor. I could only do so much to make everyone happy. It was wearing me out.

Since that interview, Taylor hadn’t spoken to anyone else about the situation and I hadn’t made any official statement, either. In fact, neither of us had really done anything in the outside world except to talk to those who needed it. That didn’t stop rumors from flying, conspiracy theories from being formed, or “sources” from leaking information that no one really gave them. We (Taylor and I) decided to hold off on saying anything until we were both able to sit down and talk through the specifics of everything. I hadn’t once questioned whether or not I had done the right thing by telling her we would pretend to be in a relationship, because in my mind it was the only solution. If I denied it, she would be branded with the term liar and things would escalate so much – not just from my fans, but from others as well. I had already been the cause of so much misery before, I wasn’t about to add onto that by not helping her out when I could.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out as the doors slid open. Over my shoulder was my overnight bag that had at least four days’ worth of clothing packed. I figured I’d be staying in New York City for at least that. Her hotel room door loomed before me and I knocked without hesitating, waiting a bit nervously – though I didn’t know why – for her to open it. When she finally did, I couldn’t even get a greeting out before she was pushing past me and chasing after the little grey ball of fur that was streaking down the hallway. “MEREDITH!” Taylor ran after the cat and caught her after a few (very bad) tackles. I smiled as Taylor came back to the door way, “She’s been trying to play ninja all day.” I followed her into the hotel suite and closed the door behind me just as she set Meredith on the floor.

"Been cooped up in here all day?" I asked as I set my bag down on one of the chairs to the side before looking at her. There was some kind of awkward energy in the air that we had dispelled so easily back in London, but after most recent events – it only made sense that at least one of us would feel awkward. Apparently that one of us was going to be Taylor, since I wasn’t feeling awkward at all… though a bit nervous. She nodded and smiled a little as she looked down at her hands. Without saying anything more, I moved and pulled her into a friendly and comforting hug. She didn’t hesitate in hugging me back and I could almost feel the relief wash over her.

"I am really sorry," she mumbled, her words muffled into my neck. I rubbed her back and shook my head very slightly, but she didn’t stop; "They just… so many questions. I had to deal with them all and then the stuff online and just… before I could really understand what I was doing, I told her that we were dating and it was way too late."

"Tay, it’s fine. There are worse things that I could be rumored doing. Dating you is not even in the realm of bad things." I broke the hug and gave her a smile, trying to comfort her even more, and was only satisfied when she smiled back. "So what is the plan exactly?" She pulled away from my arms and walked to a majestic writing desk where a manila folder was setting on top of a bunch of random colored pieces of paper. She picked it up, handed it to me, and then collapsed onto the couch with a giant sigh, her eyes closing. I opened the folder and looked over it. The front page was an itinerary that detailed exactly what time our interview was, who it was with, how long it was supposed to be, how long transition time would be, etc. It was planned down to the very last dot of an i. The second page was prep on what to say, there were even staged actions. "Am… am I reading… is this… a script?” I could keep the disgust from my voice.

"You are and that is," Taylor’s own tone was flat and she didn’t look at me, "Paula’s idea. Because we apparently don’t have," she lifted her hands in the air and hooked her fingers into air quotes, "chemistry. Whatever that is." Her hands dropped back down and she sank into the couch even more. "I’ve dated practically the whole world according to the internet, you’d think I’d know a thing or two about chemistry." I frowned and read over the script. Something in my stomach soured.

"They’ll see right through this," I looked at her and closed the folder, "Our fans. They’re going to see right through that entire giggly-lovey-dovey bullshit. Or, well, mine will. I don’t know about yours."

Taylor finally looked at me and shrugged, sitting up to give me a place to sit next to her; “Mine will probably just be happy if I’m happy. My Swifties are usually pretty… great about that kind of thing.” She chewed on her thumbnail and frowned, “No matter how many mistakes I make, they’re always there to scream louder than all the critics.” The way she talked about her fans made it apparent that her fans weren’t just fans to her. They were friends and family and pieces of her that she had shared for the past seven years. Each person she met, hugged, kissed, signed something for, talked to, thanked, tweeted, had any kind of contact with was someone special in her heart. I wish I could say the same. I could in the beginning, but lately… not so much.

"We’ll have to be more um… natural, about it all. Like… there was that uh… that part that said…" I sat down next to her and she instantly moved her legs to rest them in my lap, "that said I… what was it?" My eyes skimmed the script again as I draped an arm over her legs casually, “‘look at you with adoring eyes and pull you into my lap.’" Taylor snorted and rolled her eyes, still chewing on her thumbnail. "I mean, yeah… sure… I’d uh… I’d pull you to sit in my lap, but not in public and definitely NOT in an interview," I made eye contact with her and waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. I lifted the folder slightly, "I won’t go along with this script if we’re going to do this."

A big genuine smile stretched across her face and she sat up from her leaning position, her legs still across my lap. There was a mischievous glint in her eye and she looked almost completely different, “I was so hoping you would say that, Harry Styles.”