Canyon Moon {H.S}

4

I have to go. Jules is loosing her shit, probably more so than I am. He told me he liked to sing, but what the hell? I'll have to ask him more tonight. My phone gives me directions to Harry's house. It's not too far, about a 15 minute drive from my apartment. He said to be there at 6:00, and it's 5:40 now. I guess I'm nervous, it's not that I don't trust him, but he is inviting me to his house. God I hope he's a good cook. The neighborhood I turn into is filled with huge houses, more like mansions actually. After the entire phone call with Jules I knew what to expect to an extent, with him being a 'celebrity' and all. I pull into the driveway of a huge, modern looking house with a white exterior and black details. I'm still shocked by the size of it all, but before I can take it all in, Harry is opening the door and walking to my car.

"Hey!" he says, his eyes lighting up with joy. "Do you want help with anything?"

"Hi!" I go in to give him a hug, to which he obliges. "I think I've got it but thanks." he leads me to his front door, opening it and letting me walk in first.

His house smelled of vanilla, just as he did. The walls were painted stark white and were empty for the most part, except for a couple art prints and various album covers. It suited him. I follow behind him as he walks straight to the kitchen.

"Would you like anything to drink? Wine? Champagne?" he asks me, motioning to the small beverage located in the corner. I walk over to the counter and lean up against it.

"I'll have some wine." I tell him and he goes to get two glasses. My eyes scan over the decor in his kitchen and living room, it's very minimal, but it all works well together. In the living room, he has a turntable and a large stack of vinyls, the island in the kitchen has a bowl of lemons sitting in the center. Harry hands me my glass of wine.

"So," he starts, "How was your day?" it's like we're old friends. I hate small talk, but it's whatever.

"It was good. Boring. What about you?"

"I had to go do something for my work after I left the cafe, then I came home and cooked. That's about it." he says.

"What do you do for work?" I ask, even though I know the answer, I feel like it's better to not be weird about it.

"Well," Harry takes a sip of his wine. "I'm a singer actually." he says with a smirk.

"Sing something for me!" I tell him jokingly, but he takes it seriously.

"What do you want to hear?" he asks. I hop up from the barstool I'm sitting at, and walk to grab the acoustic guitar that sits on a stand in
the living room.

"One of your songs." I hand him the guitar. He rests it on his lap and places the strap over his shoulder. He sighs, and his ring clad fingers find a chord on the fretboard. He starts to strum.

Tell me something, tell me something. You don't know nothing, just pretend you do. I need something, tell me something new.

Harry strums at the guitar, his fingers shaping different chords, and his voice is beautiful. It fills the room, and the song he's singing is mellow. I rest my chin in my hand, watching in silence as he continues to sing.

Oh tell me something I don't already know.
Oh tell me something I don't already know.

His eyes close, it's like he's in a trance. In his mind, he's somewhere else. The music carries him away. When he sings, his mouth draws into a smile.

I've been praying, ever since New York.

He sings the last few verses before the end of the song, and his eyes flutter open again. I clap.

"Harry, that was amazing." I'm genuinely shocked. He has an incredibly beautiful voice. He looks down at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek and he blushes.

"Thanks." he says, standing up. "I made tacos for dinner, I hope that's ok. No meat though. I'll get the stuff out."

"Oh ok. I'm a vegetarian so no worries, it looks good." he smiles, pulling the tacos out of the oven, where I assume they were staying warm.

"Me too actually." he says. "You want more wine?" Harry motions to my empty glass

"What about tequila?" I ask him, and he laughs.

"Sure. I'll have some too then." he pours us two cups and finishes making dinner. We sit down to eat, talking about nothing and everything.

I explain to him that I studied graphic design in college but never did anything with it, and how I backpacked Europe with my best friend Jules the summer after high school. He tells me about his family back in England, as well as his music and travels. We have a lot more in common than I thought, but our personalities are almost polar opposites. He's guarded, quiet in private but confident around crowds, where I'm more of the outgoing, high energy, party type. I guess it all balances out.

2 tacos and 3 or 4 glasses of tequila later, Harry and I are both drunk. We're still sitting at the kitchen island, but now he's telling me about his tattoos, and I'm telling him about mine. I point to the butterfly located right above my left elbow.

"This one I got when I lost a bet." I tell him. I can't even remember what the bet was, it was almost 4 years ago.

"Oh I have a butterfly too!" his eyes light up, and he lifts his shift up, revealing a large butterfly covering part of his stomach. "Maybe they can be friends?" he asks, and I giggle.

"Yeah." I laugh. We keep talking, he does most of the explaining since he has lots of tattoos compared to my 4. He said a lot of his don't really mean anything, which is kind of funny.

"Can I look at your records?" I ask him and he nods. It takes me a few tries to get up from my chair without falling, but I manage to make it to the living room, sitting down on the floor. I skim my fingers along the records, finding that we have similar music taste.

"Here." Harry is sitting down next to me now. "Play this one." he pull out a Joni Mitchell record, titled Ladies of the Canyon. He removes the record from its sleeve, placing it on the turntable. The needle falls on the first song, and Harry stands up, reaching out his hand to help me do the same.

"Where are we going?" I ask him. He walks past me, opening his backdoor onto a back porch and small lawn that overlooks the ocean. He motions for me to turn up the music, and then I follow him outside. He grabs my hand yet again, pulling me onto his open porch, with lights strung above.

"Let's dance." he tells me.

***

leaving you guys on a cliffhanger should be my brand :) anyways happy 1d week! thank u for reading. should i make a playlist for this story?