Golden

36

"Harry, can you step a little closer to Lucy? Maybe even put your arm around her? And Lucy, can you put your head on his shoulder? I'm really trying to capture this palpable chemistry you two have."
This was my nightmare.
"Are you okay with that?" Harry asked me lowly before he followed the photographer's instructions and moved. He quickly glanced down at me to double check for my consent, remaining exactly where he was until I answered him. His jaw clenched in rigid anticipation.
"Uh sure," I replied calmly as Harry's hand wrapped around my waist and pressed me closer against his side. I hesitantly rested my head on him, not daring to even breathe, counting the seconds until this would be over with and I could extract my body from his, even though every inch of him always felt like home to me.
The flashbulb exploded, temporarily blinding me as Harry's fingers flinched slightly, squeezing my hips unexpectedly. I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to grab him by his custom Gucci shirt collar and kiss his stupid face even though we were in a room full of people staring directly at us and watching.
"You two are absolutely stunning together," the photographer mused happily, glancing down at the stills on her camera and smiling broadly at the images. "These are absolutely beautiful."
"It's all Lucy," Harry chimed in at once, which made my stomach flip at his excessively nice and unnecessary compliment. I wondered silently if he really felt that way or was just saying it for show.
The photographer's smile broadened, enthralled and captivated by Harry's effortless magnetism. I fought the desire to roll my eyes.
"I'm just standing next to her letting her do all the real work for both of us," Harry continued lightly, still holding me against him.
I didn't look up and instead focused all my energy on remaining standing in these painful stiletto heels the stylist had put me in at the beginning of the shoot. My toes ached, reminding me immediately of the night Harry and I had met when I slipped my heels off on the balcony for some temporary relief. Everything somehow circled back to him in my mind. I always found some path back to him.
"He's so charming, isn't he?" The photographer pointed out to me as if I didn't know. She kept smirking, very clearly starry-eyed and smitten like the rest of the people in the room.
I nodded numbly in agreement, keeping the same fake grin that had been plastered on my face all day from the very moment I walked onto the set.
I had arrived incredibly early, wanting to get into the venue as quickly as possible so I could race to my dressing room and lock myself in there before I had a chance of running into Harry. I figured it would be easier to greet him when other people were around and we were forced to be professional and keep up appearances than if we showed up at the same time at our specified call time. I needed to get my head together and mentally prepare myself to spend an entire day with him, posing for photos and doing interviews and press for our upcoming performance and our highly anticipated and talked about new song.
It still made me sick to my stomach every time I thought about singing live with Harry with so many people watching and scrutinizing us. I wasn't ready to unleash that song to the public yet; maybe I never would be. But with the award show looming over me like a dark cloud that followed my every move and overshadowed my every thought, I had to at least try to prepare myself for being so close to Harry. I just needed some time.
But to my surprise and also horror, when I pulled up to the venue, lo and behold, Harry was jumping out of his black Range Rover in front of me. I groaned in disbelief at my tragic luck as I hopped out of my Uber and threw my bag over my shoulder, trying to take my time and stall so he had the opportunity to sneak into the building first and we wouldn't have to make awkward small talk before I even had my first cup of coffee yet. But he was waiting for me as I slammed the car door shut and made my way towards the back entrance.
"You're early," he greeted me in an amused tone as I approached slowly, still keeping my distance from him as best I could.
"You are too." I kept moving forward as Harry joined, falling into step effortlessly with me.
"You ready for this?" Harry asked me lightly, trying to be polite and casual, although I saw how tense he already was. "It's going to be a long day."
I shrugged noncommittally, though my heart skipped several beats. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
"You sound like you've been sentenced to death," Harry deadpanned as he reached out and opened the door for me, allowing me to walk through first.
Always the gentleman, I noted smugly.
"I might prefer that," I grumbled as I ducked underneath his arm, very mindful not to touch him as I passed. "So why are you here two hours before our call time?"
"I'm always early for these things," Harry replied breezily as we made our way down a long and dimly lit corridor towards the dressing rooms. "My mom kind of drilled it in my head to always show up before everyone else if you can. She's a stickler for punctuality and politeness." He tilted his head at me curiously. "Why are you so early?"
To avoid you, though it didn't work obviously, I thought anxiously to myself.
"I wanted to make a good impression," I answered instead. "I'm still new to all of this..."
"Are you nervous?" He pressed, almost feeling bad for me. It kind of was his fault I had to do all this extra press.
"No," I lied, readjusting my bag on my shoulder that suddenly felt so much heavier.
I was terrified.
We stopped walking and stood in front of the dressing rooms, wordlessly reading our names posted on the different doors right next to each other: so close and yet still very much separated. I glanced up at Harry who was already looking down at me, watching to see what my next move would be.
"Well I should probably...uh...get ready?" I reasoned flatly, not really having a clue what the protocol for this was.
"The hair and wardrobe people won't be here for a few hours." Harry nodded to my bag. "Hope you've got a book in there or something to keep you busy for a while."
"I'm sure I can find something to do," I replied vaguely, bracing myself for what I knew he was going to ask. I silently hoped he wouldn't. I didn't know if I had the self control to turn him down or resist.
"Do...do you want to have coffee with me?" Harry asked as he stared at me, studying my face closely for my immediate reaction. I let my mind and face go blank and unreadable as I stood there quietly.
Harry scratched the back of his neck that had turned a shade of crimson. "I just...I know you like your morning routine and I always ask for coffee in my dressing room anyway, so..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.
I blinked up at him, realizing just how much taller he was than me as we stood next to each other. But he seemed to shrink into himself now, appearing nervous and timid as the seconds dragged on and I hadn't replied yet.
"You don't have to obviously," he backtracked, taking my silence as adamant refusal. "I just figured since we're both here early and I know your routine and how you like your coffee and–"
"I have a song I need to rework actually," I explained carefully, cutting him off, not wanting to hear how he was still able to recall my morning preferences and remember the small, mundane details that we once shared like they were the most important things in the world. "I have a studio session tonight I have to be ready for."
"Tonight?" Harry perked up, looking surprised. "You really don't sleep ever, do you?"
I smirked, feeling a pang of sadness grip my chest as I told him, "You know that answer."
I reached for the door and was just about to open it when I suddenly felt Harry's hand gripping the top of my arm. I peered up into his eyes again, noticing he looked just as shocked as I was that he was touching me, almost like he didn't even mean to, almost like it was out of his control and it was second nature to always be holding onto me. He grasped me tightly, silently telling me something with just his gaze; but I no longer spoke the secret language we had created together. I recoiled under his gentle fingertips, wordlessly begging for him to release me in more ways than one.
"Sorry." His grip fell from my arm as he shook his head, almost waking himself out of a trance. "Sorry. I..."
"It's fine," I lied again for his sake, my cheeks blushing. "It's...fine."
"Uh, see you soon," Harry stammered weakly, shoving his hands deep into his pockets to stop his fingers from wandering back to me. "Good luck writing."
Before I could reply, Harry had already disappeared into his dressing room, leaving me stranded and abandoned in the hallway. I sighed deeply and dragged my feet through my own doorway, feeling more alone than ever even though he was so close.