In My Arms

The night of the American Music Awards was The Night: the night where Elizabeth and Harry made their first, official red carpet debut as a couple. One Direction was up for several awards and somehow, several months prior, Elizabeth had gotten talked into being a presenter. It made sense for them to go together and walk the carpet together. Why now? Everyone knew they were together. Might as well enjoy the moment.

Still, Elizabeth had come to view The Night in similar fashion as she’d viewed her SATs or auditioning for “Abducted.” It was unsettling. She was used to being under public scrutiny—the second her career exploded and her name became synonymous with heroin addict, people cast her the suspicious side eye—but this was her and Harry. This was territory no one had business debating.

She studied her reflection in the dressing table mirror as her stylist, Kate, finished pulling her hair back into a softly curled, perky ponytail. Her hair and her makeup perfectly complemented her dress: a white formfitting white mini-dress. It reminded her of a Grecian dress (if the ancient Greeks had shown that much leg) and had one split sleeve over her left arm; her right was bare. Thick blank eyeliner and smoky eye shadow made her eyes look bluer than normal. At least she’d look good if she tripped on the red carpet.

“You’re going to take his breath away.” Kate loosened a few sections of hair at the crown of Elizabeth’s head. “I think it’s adorable you two are getting ready in separate rooms. It’s like your wedding day or something.”

“Hilarious, Kate.” She twisted a sapphire and diamond ring around her finger until her skin seared in pain. “Let’s not go jinxing things that haven’t been discussed yet.”

“But you’d marry him.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Kate,” she tried to look stern and then smiled, “I’m not talking about this now. Let’s worry about more pressing matters, such as what shoes can I wear and not break an ankle crossing the stage.”

“The silver strappy ones.”

“You’re going to need to be more specific.”

“With the ties at the ankle.”

“Fair enough.” Elizabeth leaned forward and fastened diamond chandelier style earrings into her ears. She was already wearing the infinity necklace from Harry. “Okay, let’s rock and roll.” She jammed her shoes on, laced them, and then hustled down the hallway to the staircase. Traffic was going to be a beast tonight; LA lifestyle always used the mantra ‘Guess I should have left ten minutes earlier.’

She could hear Harry’s distinct laughter from downstairs, where he was waiting with Louis and Niall. Zayn, Liam, and their respective dates were going to meet them there. The laughter stopped when she reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry’s jaw had dropped slightly and he stared at her, his eyes wide. “You look gorgeous, Lizzie.”

“Damn, Liz, it isn’t fair to make us hate him more than we already do.” Louis chuckled. “You’re going to burn up that red carpet.”

Niall blinked a few times and then smiled shyly. “You look beautiful.”

She made a beeline for Harry and eased down onto his lap, pressing her lips to his cheek. “Unless we want to miss the ceremony, we should leave now.”

“Or we could just stay here.” His voice was raspy in her ear, just the sound made electricity shoot across her lower abdomen.

“You’re here more than she is, Harry.” Louis jumped up from the couch and bounded to the door. “Is she making you help pay the mortgage yet? I would. Do it, Liz, don’t let him freeload on you.”

“He pays with nature’s credit card.” Elizabeth giggled and slid off his lap, pulling him to his feet. “Don’t you, Hazza?”

He caught her in his arms and tipped her backwards, leaning forward to kiss her throat. “Every night until you wear me out.”

“It’s a good thing you’re young.”

“You know what kind of man I am.”

“Let’s go, kids, bonus points if we’re early, eh?” Louis flopped his arm around Niall and strolled out into the sunshine. “Come along, Nialler, you can be my date tonight while Harry gets the girl. Isn’t that the story of our lives, though? Harry gets the girl?”

Harry kept her close to his body, running his hands down her lower back. “You are beautiful, Lizzie. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you tonight.”

“Good.”

“You’d better not be having sex in there!” Louis called back into the house. “We have places to be!”

Lizzie laughed and pulled him to the door. “Come on, Hazza. You can have me tonight.”

“I plan on it, Lizzie, I certainly plan on it.”

They crawled into the back of the waiting limo. Louis had already discovered the canisters of alcohol and was smelling a bottle of amber liquid. “I think this is bourbon. I like bourbon.”

Lizzie slid across the seat to him and tilted the canister to her, taking a quick drink. “That’s damn good quality bourbon. What’s that other one, rum or vodka?”

Niall sniffed the canister. “Coconut rum, I think.”

“This one’s mine.” She took it from him and slid back to Harry. “You know, to take the edge off.”

He took a drink of rum. “Panicky, love?”

“It’s your first red carpet event together. You’re going to blow up the internet old man,” Louis took a shot of bourbon and passed the canister to Niall, “especially with her in that dress.”

“It’s your trial run for the Oscars.” Lizzie giggled. “Make sure you pack a snack or energy drink because that shit is long.”

Harry rested his hand on her thigh and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb at the Oscars.”

“You’ll be fine. It’ll be hot.”

“Maybe no hat to the Oscars, hey Harry?” Niall nodded towards Harry’s black hat. “More buttons on your shirt, less hat.”

“No fucking way.”

When they arrived at the Nokia Theater, they all had a pleasant buzz and had laughed so hard that Lizzie knew she was going to need a bathroom before the ceremony started. Too much alcohol and laughter equated awkwardly peeing in a bush behind the theater. No good.

The paparazzi lined up around the red carpet immediately began yelling for them the moment she and Harry stepped out of the limo. He laced his fingers around hers and smiled somewhat uncertainly. “Ready?”

“Let’s rock and roll.”

Girls were screaming, flashbulbs were bursting; it was absolute chaos. Harry had his perfected “boy band” face—wide eyes, slight smile—but every time he looked at her, he burst into a wide grin. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it might be: nobody seemed horrified that they were together. Girls weren’t throwing cabbages at her head. It was chill. It was almost….dare she think it….fun.

They declined interviews together as, Elizabeth explained, it was the guy’s night and not hers. She didn’t want the spotlight on her when it should be on the music. It was satisfying enough to be next to him, her hand safely tucked in his, on the red carpet. The paps were getting their pictures. It seemed good enough for them.

He leaned over and kissed her temple. Flashbulbs surged. “Having fun, love?”

“I’m getting a tan from all these flashes.”

Harry laughed and slid his free arm around her, pulling her against him. “I love you, Lizzie.”

“I love you, Hazza.”

By the time they made it into the theater, after stopping a million pictures, Elizabeth decided she definitely needed a bathroom break for rubbing elbows with the music elite in the theater. She kissed Harry on the cheek. “I’ll be back. Too much rum.”

He laughed.

She’d been to the Nokia Theater a million times, so she easily navigated her way to the ladies room. Better.

She walked to the sink and washed her hands, then stopped to make sure her makeup looked acceptable. Her black lashes and eyeliner made her eyes stand out, especially against her fair skin. Her hair was a little tousled from fooling around with Harry in the limo. Using her fingertips, she brushed the loose strands back and smoothed out her ponytail. Cute.

She heard one of the toilets flush and, after a moment, the woman stepped out of the stall and strolled to the sink beside her. Elizabeth focused on her own reflection, carefully spreading vanilla flavored lip gloss over her lips and pursing them together. Damn her pale complexion. Her paleness and naturally pink lips made any shade of lipstick look ludicrous. Except gold lipstick, but this didn’t really seem like a gold lipstick kind of event…

Elizabeth noticed the woman at the sink was staring at her. She slid her eyes to the side and glanced at her reflection. Ah. “Is there something you want to say to me, Taylor?”

Taylor Swift, supposed goodie goodie and fan pleaser, pursed her ruby red lips together, flashing an obviously fake smile. “So, you and Harry, huh? That’s really cute.”

“Okay.” Elizabeth replaced the lid on her lip gloss. “Good talk.”

“I had him first.”

“Well, I’ve got him last.” Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her. “Is there a point to this conversation or are you just trying to make bathroom repartee even more awkward than it already is?”

Taylor looked like she was trying to appear sympathetic. She was only succeeding in looking fake. “You know, there’s this thing about Harry. He’s very easily distracted.”

“Maybe he was with you, but not with me.”

“You’re not the first girl he’s told that he loves.” She looked smug. “When I dumped his ass, he left me voicemails crying how he still loved me. He wanted me back.”

“Well, I can assure you that feeling has passed. I keep him damn satisfied.”

“I guess that’s because you’ve been through enough guys to know how to do it.”

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to reach out and smack her in the face. “I’ve had a few boyfriends. So have you. You have a tendency to pound it all into our heads with your music to remind us just how miserable they left you.”

“Look,” Taylor smiled sweetly, “I wish you two nothing but the best. But, Harry can’t keep his dick in his pants. You’re just another name to him, another way to get publicity and media attention. He’s a god in bed—I know that from experience—but he’s not going to settle down with a dirty cunt like you. He’ll use you just like all the other pretty doe-eyed girls and then he’ll move on. That’s his thing.”

Elizabeth clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain still. The bitch was trying to get a rise out of her. “He’s not going to move on.”

“I know, it seems like that, right?” Taylor washed her hands in the sink and then pulled out a paper towel, meticulous drying them. “Deep down he’s a really sweet boy. But he’s a boy. When he’s ready to stop fooling around, he’s going to want a nice girl he can take home to his mom; not a heroin addict, chain smoking whore like you. Have you met his mom yet, Elizabeth?”

Elizabeth stared at her, tears pricking the back of her eyes. She didn’t trust herself to respond.

“That’s what I thought.” Taylor tossed her towel in the garbage and pushed past her, shoving her shoulder against Elizabeth’s as she sauntered past. The door swung shut soundlessly behind her.

Elizabeth stared at the floor for several moments. She tried to hold back the tears, but her vision clouded anyway. Grabbing a few paper towels, she dabbed around her eyes and tried to keep her eyes shadow, liner, and mascara in place. Taylor was a God damned bitch. She didn’t even know her, other than her irritating music and her fake persona, but every fiber in her being hated her. It was jealousy; jealousy because Harry was happy.

She looked up into the mirror. Her eyes were wide, her forehead creased in marked upset. A nagging feeling washed over her; a feeling that had been gone for a long, long time. She’s right, you aren’t worth it. How long will it take him to figure it out too?

The infinity necklace he’d given her swung out from underneath the neckline of her dress. No. Harry was his own man. Once he made up his mind, he didn’t change it easily. He loved her; he wanted to be with her.

You’re okay. It’s fine. She let her eyes flutter closed and, after several deep breaths, straightened and walked through the bathroom door. She was an actress. She’d won awards. She could hide this. There was no reason for Harry to know, because he couldn’t change what was said. This was his night—she wasn’t going to spoil it by being weak. Fuck Taylor Swift.

As she walked back to the large reception area, Taylor’s words echoed in her mind. Heroin addict, chain smoking whore. That was who she was before; not now.

But that didn’t mean the words didn’t hurt.

####

The night was owned by One Direction: they won three awards and performed their latest single like five brutally hot men sent by God himself from heaven. She and Harry hadn’t been allowed to sit together during the ceremony, but when she found him at the after party, he picked her up and swung her around. “Did you see that, baby? Can you believe it?”

“You guys did amazing!” Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned over and kissed her deeply. “You, Hazza, are amazing.”

“It’s surreal, the awards, the song, you—God.” He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again. “I never want tonight to end.”

She laughed. His dimpled smile was contagious; his eyes were sparking and his raspy, sexy voice was so happy. “Tonight’s your night, Hazza. Live it up.”

“Oh, I plan on it. And I’m going to live it up with the love of my life.” He pulled her against him and ran his hands from her hips to her ribs and back again. “You being here for me has been meant so much, you have no idea.” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, leading her into the crush of partiers. “Do you know Simon Cowell? You should. Let’s go say hi.”

As the night continued, she and Harry drifted apart to mingle in the crowd. Elizabeth didn’t have a terribly long list of friends in the music industry, but she visited with the few she had: Katy Perry, Justin Timberlake, Lady Gaga, Jon Bon Jovi, and Adam Levine. After that, she made the rounds and chatted with her Hollywood friends who were there. That took up quite a bit more time, but eventually, she ran out of things to do. Harry was still making his rounds and the last thing she wanted was to act like the bored girlfriend.

She grabbed a drink for the bar and then sat down at a table, taking a quick sip. It was definitely too much cranberry and not enough vodka. Glancing to her side, she saw Harry chatting with some guy she didn’t recognize and, to the man’s opposite side, was Taylor Swift. Elizabeth took another big drink. Nope, not going to get jealous. Jealousy was what broke up her and Chris. Jealous was an ugly hag that had no business in her and Harry’s relationship. Everything was fine, just fine; it was probably just a mutual friend. Yeah, that was it. A mutual friend.

Taylor turned her head slightly. She made eye contact with Elizabeth and shrugged her shoulders casually, sticking out her lower lip in a slight pout. She then rolled her eyes back to Harry and smiled broadly at him, throwing her head back in a laugh.

Elizabeth gripped the cup, her pulse raging in her temple with an upbeat cadence. She knew what the little bitch was thinking: Harry’s easily distracted. Harry can’t keep it in his pants. Tears pricked the back of her eyes again and she tried to blink them back. Whore. Addict. Worthless.

She stood from the table, leaving her drink where it was, and headed back to the bar. She made direct eye contact with the mohawked bar tender. “Scotch bourbon on the rocks.” She paused. “Make it a double.”

“Sure thing, gorgeous.” He mixed the drink in a tumbler and handed it to her.

Elizabeth stuffed a few dollars in the tip jar and then glanced at him. “Can I bum a smoke from you?”

He raised his eye brow. “Why do you think I smoke?”

“I’m not blind. I can see the pack in your pocket.” He chuckled, jamming his hand in the pocket of his trousers and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He pulled out two and handed them to her, along with a slim bic lighter. “Take two. You look upset.”

“Yeah, I’m trying to quit and damn if I don’t keep coming back. Addictions, you know?” She threw back the drink and slammed the empty glass on the bar. “Thanks man. I’ll bring the lighter back in ten.”

Once outside the tent, she shoved one of the cigarettes and lit it, taking a long drag. God damn it. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Harry, but she didn’t trust that damn Taylor. Maybe she and Harry and fallen too hard, too fast; she didn’t think so, their feelings for each other were real. They were mutual. She hadn’t felt this way for anyone before—he was more than her lover, he was her best friend. He wasn’t going to get distracted. He wasn’t going to fool around behind her back. Right?

Whore. Addict. Worthless.

She took another drag off the cigarette and closed her eyes. She’d gotten rid of these feelings a long time ago. They had no business creeping up now.

“Elizabeth?”

She opened her eyes. She hadn’t heard him walk up, but she recognized the Irish brogue in a heartbeat. “Hey, Ireland. You should be basking in the glory of total domination.”

“I had to find the bathroom.” He studied her closely, running his hand nervously through his spiky blond hair. “How are you?”

“Great, I’m just fantastic.” She held smoke in her lungs for a moment, then exhaled it out of the corner of her mouth. “It’s a super awesome evening. I mean, I’m totally stoked for you guys, don’t get me wrong. But…yeah, it’s a blast. Loving every minute.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Who said anything was wrong?” She looked down and smiled sadly, her lower lip quivering slightly. “I’m sorry, Niall. I’m just being a bitch.”

“You can tell me.” His smile was lopsided, but honest. “What else do we have to do tonight?”

“It’s just,” she sighed, “I don’t know when this shit turned into high school. I mean, let’s be honest, my high school career was nothing to get excited about. I was smoking weed at 14 and then dropping acid and shooting heroin at 15. By the time I finished high school, I’d almost overdosed twice and was sent straight from graduation to rehab. That didn’t work and I went to rehab again six months later. That’s something for the grandkids, huh?”

Niall remained silent.

“My mom says that I’m genetically wired to be an addict because of my dad. I guess that’s true and I’m upfront with it. I’ve worked a long time not to fall victim to those feelings of worthlessness and self-pity. I make my own destiny. But tonight…tonight someone threw it back in my face.” She tossed the butt of one cigarette to the pavement and ground it out with her shoe, then lit the other. “I’ve had a good time since I’ve come to Hollywood. I’ll be the first to say I’ve fucked a bunch of guys. But I’m not a slut.”

“No one says you are.” Niall smiled shyly. “None of us would ever say that.”

“She did.”

“Who?”

Elizabeth looked away from him, taking a fitful drag on the cigarette. “Don’t worry about it, Niall. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s a big deal to me if you’re this upset.”

Elizabeth felt heat warm her cheeks; a blush she hoped he didn’t notice. “It’s just, that damned Taylor Swift. We had this confrontation in the bathroom and she…ah…just kind of ruined my evening. I realize I’m an adult and I should be able to be above this kind of shit, but…it hit me kind of hard.”

“When you say confrontation…”

“She basically told me that Harry can’t keep his dick in his pants and is going to get tired of me.” She laughed bitterly. “And, if he’s going to bring someone home to mommy, he’s not going to pick a chain smoking, heroin addict whore like me.”

Niall exhaled slowly. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I wish it was an exaggeration but that was pretty much word for word.” She stared at the lit end of the cigarette and sighed. “So, yeah, I pretty much feel like shit now.”

“Did you tell Harry?”

She shook her head and ground the cigarette out on the pavement. “I don’t want to bother him with it. Tonight is his night—it’s your guys’ night and I really have no business acting like this. I’ll get over it.”

“Hey, wait.” He grabbed her wrist and eased her back to where she’d been standing. “Harry adores you. I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. He’s not going to get tired of you; if anything, he’s just going to fall more in love with you. Don’t listen to Taylor. She’s a bitch—you heard what she said onstage tonight.”

Elizabeth blushed again. “Thanks, Niall.”

“No, I mean it. Harry loves you. He’d be a damn fool if he did something to hurt you; you’re amazing.” She saw his cheeks turn pink. “You know what I mean.”

She hugged him quickly; awkwardly. “Thanks, Niall. That means a lot to me, seriously.”

He held her tightly and slowly let her go. “He won’t hurt you, Liz. I’ve known him for years and he’s just not like that. What she said was completely inappropriate. I’m will to believe that she said it because she’s jealous of what you have with him. A lot of people are.”

“It’s just hard to shake those old feelings, you know.” She stared at the cigarette butts on the ground. Damn it, she needed another. Or another stiff drink. “Always being happy and cheerful takes its toll. I’m the first one to admit how fucked up I am, but I can embrace that. I can’t embrace someone throwing it in my face like I should be ashamed.”

“The person you are is the person he loves.” Niall’s smile looked sad, as if there was more he wanted to say but wouldn’t allow himself. “We all think the world of you, Liz. We really do.”

Elizabeth managed a smile. Niall was so sweet and understanding; if only she had the courage to tell Harry how she felt about her run-in with Taylor. Despite what Niall insisted, it didn’t feel right. She wasn’t going to make a big deal about this. “Come on, Ireland. Let me buy you a drink.”

“The drinks are free.”

“Even better.”

####

By the time she and Harry got home, they were both drunk. Harry, more so, from discretely celebrating his wins. Elizabeth had a high enough tolerance for alcohol that her countless rounds of shots with Niall made her giggly and tipsy enough to disregard what happened earlier. But when Harry joined them at the bar, things got a little hazy for her: she remembered him and Niall doing shots off the hollow of her collarbones and then Harry reaching over the bar and claiming the bottle of bourbon for them. After that, it was a mish-mash of making out with Harry at the bar and him trying to shove her hands down the front of his pants in front of Steven Tyler. Whatever.

He had her dress off of her before they’d even made it up the outside staircase to the house. He pushed her up against the front door, covering his mouth with hers. The effects of the alcohol seemed to make him forget to breathe while he kissed her—he pulled away and took a deep breath, panting against her neck. “You’ve been quiet.”

“I’ve been pissed.”

He worked her panties down her legs until they were around her ankles, then fumbled with the buttons of his skin tight black pants. “Not at me.”

“Not at you.”

“Who then?” He slid his pants down, but couldn’t get the narrow legs over his bulky leather shoes. He stumbled forward, trailing kisses across her thighs. “You were so fucking hot tonight. God, you need to wear dresses like that more often.”

“Your fucking ex-girlfriend tried to pick a fight with me in the bathroom.” Elizabeth rattled her complaints off before she realized what she was saying. Damned alcohol. “She insinuated that I’m a whore.”

“I don’t think you’re a whore.” He pried the house keys out of her hand and moved to the doorknob, studying it intensely. He moved his index finger over the lock, as if he was trying to figure out where to insert the key. It was a good thing he wasn’t drunk enough to forget how to fuck her. “Did I have an ex-girlfriend there? I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of tonight. We won. I made out with you on top of a bar.”

“That fucking bitch Taylor cornered me and the bathroom and told me that I was a chain smoking heroin addict.” She pouted, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “She said that’s the reason I haven’t met your mom.”

“Fuck her.” Harry pushed the door open and pulled her inside, kicking the front door closed with his foot. He stumbled over his pants, still wrapped around his ankles, and started laughing, falling to his knees in front of the door. “No, no, I’m going to fuck you. Come here. I want you naked and screaming out my name.”

She stumbled forward, tugging on his boots until one flung free of his foot. She giggled and then turned serious. “She said you’re going to get tired of me.”

“Who the fuck does she think she is?” Harry pulled his other shoe off and then wriggled free of his pants. “I want you. Every inch of you. I want your body and your mouth and your love and all of it. You’re mine. She’s just jealous that you’re hotter and more fun in bed than she is.”

Elizabeth fell into his arms and kissed him, her head spinning slightly from all the alcohol she’d consumed in the last hours of the party. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”

“I’ll be honest, Lizzie, I’m not going to remember. Just fuck me. God, I need you to fuck me. I don’t even want to drag myself upstairs into bed; just get on top of me now.”

She laughed, pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. She leaned over and kissed him, letting him wrap his arms around her as he guided himself inside of her. She loved him; more than anything. It was the strongest love she’d ever felt for a man. Tonight was just a fucked up mess because of one jealous girl. She wouldn’t remember this in the morning. She needed to just calm the fuck down and enjoy being his.

As Harry flipped her over onto her back, she tightened her arms around his neck. Somehow that seemed easier said than done. Maybe she loved him too much; maybe she was falling too fast. Losing him would be the worst thing that could happen.

He made love to her, his hands tangled in her hair and his lips tracing a track across her collarbone and neck. He loved her. Someone else’s lies wasn’t going to change that.

She stared up at the ceiling, her eyes focused on the globe around the entryway light. He loved her.

Nothing would change that.

Notes