New York City, New York
One Month Later.

Harry’s Point of View

I cursed to myself looking out at the dreary, gray sky from my office window. A thunderstorm was on its way, and that wasn’t ideal. The Jensen Brothers, a new band that the label just picked up, were having an album release and concert in Central Park this weekend, and I’d be dammed if this weather didn’t hold out. I’d worked too fucking hard to get this band’s name out.

I hadn’t done it for the band, or for my label, however. I’ve always worked long days to keep HES Records the best there is, but for a month now, it seems like I hardly go home anymore. And the one reason for that was simply the distraction. I needed a hindrance to my own mind, which only seemed to think about one thing lately, or person rather—Dahlia Rae Evans.

I could still remember her middle name from five years ago—you tell me whether or whether not I have it bad.

Ever since I saw Lia at Louis' funeral, I’ve been nostalgic about our times together. I’d be lying to myself if I said I had forgotten her until the funeral, but my feelings were definitely harder to bear after seeing her that day.

I don’t think Lia would be surprised if I told her I had always fancied her, but we both knew nothing would ever come of that. She’d always been Louis’ girl, and I’d always be the friend. I’d take that over nothing though, I suppose.

Willing myself to stop thinking about the girl I was so infatuated with yet had no chance with, I cleaned up my desk from all of the papers and got ready to head home for the weekend.

I had walked to work, so hopefully it doesn’t start raining as I make my way home. Thankfully the walk isn’t too long.

Putting on my jacket, I lock up my office and head out of the building. Just as I step outside, Jana calls. I’ve been ignoring her since I got back from London, but I don’t feel as bad as I probably should about blowing her off. We were never dating, and she knew that.

Since I got back, I’d been ignoring the calls from the other girls too. A quick fuck would probably take off the edge, but I just couldn’t bring myself to it. These days, all I can think about is her. I was beginning to get sick of jacking off to images in my mind of her in those black fuck-me heels she wore at the funeral, but I knew fucking some random chick wouldn’t help any better.

I was frustrated because I was sexually frustrated. I was damned in that I knew I’d probably never even see her again, and I’m over here unable to even get hard unless I think of her. I was beginning to feel like my sixteen year old self with all the cold showers I was taking due to the fact that Lia was always on my mind, but I couldn’t control it.

Although I wish there was a better way, I was desperate to go back to how things had been before I went to London for Louis’ funeral. I was getting by just fine alternating between Jana, Quinn and Sarah, but now I’ve abandoned each of the casual hook ups because I knew they just wouldn’t do the trick anymore.

I knew I was in trouble.

Even more so when I saw her walking along the sidewalk across the street. How could I miss her?

I had to do a double take once I saw her long legs and long brown hair, but sure enough, it was my Lia.

What on Earth was she doing here?

I didn’t even know I had stopped walking until someone ran into me and cursed me out for standing in the middle of the sidewalk. I muttered an apology and began to walk so that I didn’t lose sight of her.

I tried to decide whether I wanted to go and talk to her, but I wouldn’t know what to say or even do for that matter. So I resorted to following her from a distance so she wouldn’t know. God, I felt like a stalker, but I had to know where she was going.

I knew she was originally from New York, but if I remember correctly, she grew up in The Hamptoms, not the city. I couldn’t figure out why she’d be here in the time I was following her, but I stopped trying when she went into a building. I waited a minute before crossing the street and walking inside. It was a hotel—a Hilton to be exact.

Why was she staying in a hotel?

All I knew was that I was elated she’d be here for an extended period of time. Fuck. What if today was her last day here, and she was headed back to London?

On impulse, I walked over to the front desk. It was a young girl who looked like she was barely eighteen, and she clearly knew who I was. She was smiling so big it looked like it hurt.

“H-hi, what can I help you with?” She stuttered.

“I have a friend staying here, and I was wondering if you could tell me how long she has her reservation for?”

The girl wouldn’t quit ogling me, so I cleared my throat and looked at her computer.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled. “Um, what’s her name?”

“Dahlia Evans.”

The girl began typing on the computer, and I briefly thought how easy it was to get this information out of her. I’m sure if I was anyone else she wouldn’t divulge such information; I guess being in the headlines as often as I was, wasn’t so bad.

“She’s in room 1934 until next Friday,” the receptionist told me.

I mentally noted the room number and smiled at the girl. “Thank you,” I looked at her name tag. “Brianna. Have a nice day.”

She looked like she was about to faint as I turned to leave the hotel.

I stepped outside and tried to think of what I’d do while she was still here. Thankfully she’d be here for at least a week. I needed to see her, even only once.

Like a lightbulb switched on in my mind, I saw a florist shop down the block. I walked to the building and went right in. I usually tried to avoid walking the streets for long periods of time to avoid the paparazzi as much as possible, but today it didn’t even cross my mind.

I was thankful dahlia’s were in season, because of course I had to get a bouquet of dahlia’s for my Dahlia. The old, sweet woman who sold me the flowers asked me if I wanted to add a note to the delivery, and an idea crossed my mind.

I told her what I wanted it to say, and gave her the address of the Hilton hotel and the number to Dahlia’s room.

Then I prayed I’d be seeing Lia by this time tomorrow.

---

Dahlia’s Point of View

It was already seven by the time I got back to my hotel room after searching for apartments all day. I had wanted to go out and explore the city, maybe grab dinner someone in Times Square, but the rain threatened my plans, so I decided to order room service and call it an early night to get enough rest before I went back at it tomorrow.

I knew I was being stubborn about the whole process; I had seen several apartments today that had met all of my requirements, but I just couldn’t commit. They were all missing something, and I couldn’t put my finger down on what that was. So I kept looking, much to my realtor’s dismay.

There was a knock on my door about twenty minutes after I had called for room service, and I grabbed my purse for tip money as I thought how speedy that was.

However, when I opened the door, it was not the chicken caesar salad I had ordered.

A man stood with a large vase of purple and pink dahlia’s, my favorite flower. The flower I had been named after.

“Delivery for Lia Evans,” the man spoke and held the vase out to me.

I immediately had a suspicion on who they were from due to the name the delivery man had used, but I immediately ruled him out thinking of how impossible it was for him to know where I was.

“Thank you,” I told him before he left.

I brought the vase in my room and set it on the desk. It was only until I had my nose close to the flowers to smell them when I discovered the small white card.


Beautiful dahlia’s for a beautiful Dahlia.
I hope you are enjoying the City.


I have reservations at Scalini Fedeli for tomorrow at 7,
I would love for you to join me.

Hope to see you there, Lia.

H xx
All of the doubt that I had about the flowers being from Harry had vanished. I couldn’t decide whether I was excited over the invitation, or scared that he knew I was here, and what hotel and even room I was staying in. I hadn’t even known he lived here in New York. I figure he lived in LA, but I was certainly mistaken.

I tossed and turned the whole night, debating whether or not to meet him for dinner. I hadn’t seen him since Louis’ funeral, and that had almost been too much. I’d thought of him every day since, and I knew if I saw him again, I’d only get tangled more in his web.

I knew it was dangerous to renew our friendship, but I couldn’t help myself from being as happy as I was after receiving the flowers. I’d have a big decision to make tomorrow, but for now, I needed my beauty sleep in case I decided to go.



I woke up the next morning from a restless sleep. The first thing I saw was the pink and purple dahlia’s on the desk though, and that had put a smile on my face.

I got up to smell the sweet flowers again before I headed to the bathroom to shower. I was meeting with my realtor again today in order to find an apartment, and I had to be ready by eleven. I spent a little extra time doing my hair and makeup just in case I did decide to take Harry up on his offer for dinner.

I dressed in my skinny jeans with a simple camisole under my leather jacket, but mentally put together an outfit for tonight, if I were to go.

I’d wear the nicest dress I packed—my black fitted, sleeveless dress that showed just enough skin with it still being fancy enough for a restaurant like Scalini Fedeli, and I would pair it with the gold bangles and gold necklace I had brought.

I knew I’d end up going no matter how much I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea.

Notes

I know this chapter is short and sucks, but I'll update once I get some more subscribers/comments/rates, and make the next chapter longer! It'll be much better too :)

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