In My Arms

For their six month anniversary, Harry insisted she fly back to London to be with him instead of their usual time together in New York or Los Angeles. The day before her flight, she received an express Royal Mail envelope. Inside was a sleek, sparkly 20s style silver and black dress and a handwritten note: You’ll need this for Friday night. –Harry

Flying into Heathrow in a private jet was much more relaxing than last minute first class traveling and, for once, she felt like she didn’t look like a rumpled mess after the misery of a trans-Atlantic flight. Harry casually picked her up in his sporty white vintage Ford Capri, his hair hidden under a snapback and dark sunglasses over his eyes. She tossed her bag into the backseat and slid into the passenger’s seat. “What a coincidence running into you here, Mr. Styles.”

“I was just passing through the neighborhood, Miss Richards.” He leaned over crushed his mouth against hers, then quickly straightened and threw the car into drive. “If you’re not busy, I’ve made reservations for us. Unless you’ve got better things to do.”

“There’s nothing better to do than you, Harry.”

He drove through London, past his Flat, and down a somewhat familiar road. After a awhile, an enormous, elegant hotel burst into view. “The Ritz?” her lips turned up into a smile. “Hazza.”

He drove around main building of the Ritz and to an adjacent mansion, the William Kent House. Throwing the car into park, he whipped off his sunglasses and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. “A private suite for five days. No interruptions, no mobs of fans, no obligations; just us. There’s a dining room and a butler and everything. Do you like it? After what happened at the AMAs, I wanted it to be special. I wanted it to be more, since this is six months of us.”

“And the dress?”

“Let’s be honest, love, Gemma picked out the dress. I’ll take credit for the idea but, unfortunately, you aren’t privy to knowing what my idea is until tonight.” He hopped out of the car with his typical tremendous burst of energy and sauntered to her door. He first reached in to help her out and then opened the reach door to pull out her bag. “Allow me, my beauty.”

He led her into the mansion at the ground floor and up a staircase to the Royal Suite. The door he unlocked and pulled her into was the dining room: a monstrous gold chandelier hung above a long oak table with seating for ten. The ceilings had to be at least ten feet up and the window, covered with heavy brocade drapes, stretched nearly as high. Harry nodded around the room, motioning at the table. “The butler and wait staff will bring dinner up tonight.”

They walked through the drawing room and up another flight of stairs to where the bedroom, bathroom, and a small study were located. The bedroom was curved with heavy rose colored drapes covering the windows. A large, king sized bed filled the other side of the room. She peered through two open doors: two dressing rooms. “Harry, it’s beautiful. It’s perfect.”

“I figured if we were going to stay inside together for five days straight, we might as well do it in luxury and have a butler.” He ran his hand over the bed. “Along those lines, this is the bed, which I intend to get lots of use over the next five days.”

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Is that a fact?”

“We have to move all those plates off the table downstairs if you want me to fuck you there. Terrible waste of time when we could just be in here.”

The feeling of his arms wrapped around her, holding her to him, felt better than a warm blanket straight out of the dryer on a cold day. She felt whole again. The light scent of his cologne was maddening; lightly musky with a hint of bourbon. He was a cheeky boy. She inhaled the scent in and held it in her lungs, savoring each moment he held her. “We did it in the bathroom during the AMAs. Frankly setting means little to me, Hazza. I just need you.”

He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “There’s only one interruption I have planned and I hope you aren’t angry with me. I invited my Mum and Gemma over tomorrow for lunch. Nothing fancy—well, I mean, all the food here is fucking fancy—but I want her to meet you. I want her to know the girl who stole my heart.”

His heart was pounding in his chest. Even after six months, there were still things that made him nervous to say around her. She squeezed him. “I would love that, Harry. Really.”

“Are you hungry? I can have the butler bring up some room service. They’re not bringing up dinner until 6:00 tonight, so if you want something I’ll get it for you.”

“I think you just like the idea of having a butler.”

“I’m trying to impress you. Is it working?”

“You always impress me.” She wiggled out of his arms and kissed him quickly. “Hold that thought. I have to pee.”

“Bathrooms are available on airplanes, you know.”

“Always so helpful.” She walked from the bedroom to the dressing room and picked several wrong doors (closet, closet, hallway, study) before she found the bathroom. It was glittering white and mother of pearl, with a large hot tub bathtub, separate glass encased standup shower, and a double sink. She studied the shower for several moments, biting back a smile. It was just like hers back in Los Angeles; God, the fun she and Harry had in there……

She washed her hands and quickly checked her appearance in the massive mirror over the sinks. Her hair was tangled and mussed from Harry’s hands; it made her smile. She made a halfhearted attempt to smooth it down, but as she did, she heard Harry calling her from the bedroom. “Baby. Baaaby. Come back to me, Lizzie baby.”

Elizabeth smiled at herself in the mirror. Thank God the movie shoot was almost over. Two more weeks, whatever reshoots needed done, and then back to slumming it with Harry and pretending to be busy. The thought alone was glorious.

He was lying flat on his back on the bed when she walked back into the bedroom, his hands clasped daintily on his chest. “Aren’t you going to come cuddle with me, baby? I haven’t seen you in like, a month.”

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes and crawled up on the bed, snuggling up next to him. He rolled to his side and trailed his fingertips down her jawline. “This has been the best six months of my life. But these five days…I want these to be five days you’ll never forget.”

She raised her eyebrows innocently. “How do you plan to do that?”

He flipped her onto her back and straddled her, pinning her wrists over her head. Leaning forward, he held his face just centimeters away from hers; his lips brushing against hers as he spoke. “Just wait. I’ll rock your world, baby girl. I missed you….every inch of you.”

She flexed her ab muscles like she was doing a crunch, forcing herself upwards. She pressed her lips to his. “Two weeks and the shoot is over.”

“Then you can stay with me.” He touched his lips to each corner of her mouth, then trailed his lips down her neck. “Or I’ll come to the colonies and stay with you. Either way, the point is, I don’t want to be apart anymore. No more relying on Skype to see each other.”

“The colonies?” Elizabeth pursed her lips coyly. “I think it was my side that won the war.”

“Two wars, actually, fair enough but I’m going to dominate you this week,” his eyes were intense, his voice throaty and raspy, “colonist.”

“God save the Queen.”

“Damn right.”

####

Shortly before six o’clock, Elizabeth shoved the last bobby pin into her low, side bun and took one final look at her reflection. The dress fit perfectly. It was glamourous and glitzy; she kept her makeup minimal and somewhat how she’d been wearing her makeup during the movie shoot: sparkly but vintage. Silver heels, her infinity necklace, diamond teardrop earrings, and a quick spritz of her favorite perfume; she was ready.

Harry said he’d meet her in the dining room, so she headed in that direction. He was making an effort to make everything romantic and special and perfect—if she didn’t know him better, she’d think he was going to propose. She glanced at her reflection in the high mirrored walls of the drawing room; she looked startled. He wasn’t going to propose, was he? They’d been together for six months. Six mind blowing, amazing months, sure, but they’d casually mentioned it before. They were young; they just wanted to spend time together and have fun. Being serious for each other didn’t equate promptly getting engaged, right?

Right?

Surely he wasn’t going to actually propose….

He was standing with his back to the door, staring out the huge windows overlooking the gardens. The chandelier was on, but at a soft glow that seemed to melt down over the table and the thin pillar candles in the center.

Harry seemed to sense her step into the room and turned. He was dressed in tight black pants, a partially unbuttoned black shirt, and a black jacket; his face lit up when he saw her. “You look…wow. You take my breath away, Lizzie.”

He opened his arms to her and she crossed the room in a few quick strides, throwing herself into them. She breathed in his cologne, her cheek pressed against his chest. “You’re too good to me, Hazza. This is absolutely perfect.”

There was a soft knock on the door. It swung open and two sharply dressed men strode in, both carrying covered silver trays. One nodded solemnly at Harry. “Mr. Styles, sir, dinner is served.”

Harry slid his hand to her lower back, nudging her forward. “I asked for a dinner menu for tonight and they gave me sixteen pages worth of options. Sixteen. You don’t even want to know what I had to go through to plan out brunch for tomorrow. Thank God I had Liam with me. He can keep a level head when debating canapés verses spring rolls or veal verses lamb verses steak.”

He pushed her chair in and then sat beside her, pressing his mouth to her shoulder as he sank down. “I’m going to recommend him to Zayn and Perrie for the wedding.”

The two waiters set the plates in front of them, again only one spoke. “Braised rabbit pappardelle to start. Would you like warm bread as well?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, please.”

“Mr. Styles, would you like champagne served now or wait until the main course?”

“Now’s fine.” He spread his napkin on his lap and winked at her. “Ice water too, please, if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely sir, not a problem.”

Elizabeth was glad Gemma had picked out a looser fitting dress than Harry probably would have. They ate and drank a ridiculous amount in less than forty-five minutes. There was baskets of warm rolls and butter, a main course of lobster tail, grilled shrimp, rice, and white cheddar mashed potatoes and, just when she thought she couldn’t eat another bite, the waiters brought in chocolate molten lava cake and dishes of ice cream. It was delicious. Decadent. It was the perfect dinner, highlighted by the best company she could have asked for: her Harry. He was his normal, silly self but his eyes gave him away. He was nervous. Something was bothering him.

The waiters left two bottles of champagne on ice and then left the room, closing and locking the door behind them. Elizabeth dropped her napkin on the table and slid her chair back. “That was the best meal I’ve had in ages. I’ve been eating hoagies and mac and cheese on set.”

Harry chuckled and took a gulp of champagne. He looked like he was going to say something, but stopped.

“Hazza.” She slid onto his lap, draping her legs over his, and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re distracted. It’s freaking me out.”

“I got you a present.”

“We said no gifts.” She pouted. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I know, but I was out shopping with Zayn and I saw this and….look, I am so in love with you. You know I’m going to marry you, right?”

She felt her cheeks heat up and she tried to bite back a smile; it didn’t work. “Hazza.”

He reached into an inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, velvet pouch. Pushing it into her hands, he stared into her eyes; his own large green orbs strikingly intoxicating. “It’s not a diamond. Not yet. But I want you to be mine; I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

Elizabeth unlaced a silk ribbon tied around the pouch and reached in; she pulled out a delicate ring. The band was silver, studded with a large sapphire flanked by diamonds. Her breath caught in her throat. “Oh, Harry….this is gorgeous.”

He took the ring from her, gently turning her right hand over and sliding it onto her ring finger. “You should wear it on the right so the media doesn’t explode that we secretly got married this week.”

“It’s still early in the week.” She pressed her mouth to his, passionately kissing him. “I love you, Harry. So, so much.”

“I love you, Lizzie.” He again reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He tapped the screen several times, until the room was filled with the soft strains of “Unchained Melody.” He leaned forward; his breath was hot in her ear. “Dance with me.”

She smiled and nodded. They stood and he pulled her into his arms, wrapping them tightly around her waist. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his shoulders and exhaled deeply. Everything was perfect. Their bodies swayed together as one, his eyes were locked on hers. She felt like her entire body was alive with electricity. Maybe it was the champagne or the fire roaring in the fireplace. The moment was perfect. He was perfect. She didn’t want the song to end; she wanted to savor every moment pressed against him, his intense eyes pulling her in and seducing her without him having to utter a single word.

As the song trailed out into indiscernible notes, the next track blared on: The Killers “Somebody Told Me.” Harry’s eyes widened. “I…must have hit shuffle. So much for romance.”

“False. You just have to change your rhythm.” She guided his hands lower down her hips. “I know you’re good at that, Hazza.”

“Damn right I am.” He pulled her close again, pinning her in place with this arms. “See how I’ve cleverly cleaned off the table here so I can show you just how good I am.”

She laughed and kissed him. The nervous look was gone from his eyes; now he just looked happy---and intensely in love. She knew the look was reflected in her own eyes. God, she’d never been happier. This was all she wanted—she’d give everything up just for this moment to never end.

####

They danced, laughed, and drank champagne for so long, Elizabeth lost track of time. When they’d downed the two bottles left by the waiters, Harry made a call and had room service bring up two more. They drank those just as quickly. The music got louder, the dancing got clumsier, and the kissing and touching got hotter. He fucked her on the dining room table, awkwardly on the staircase and against one of the large windows overlooking Green Park, and then picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, sinking down on the bed with her. He was insatiable; the effects of the champagne making them laugh and clumsily change positions. After he couldn’t hold on anymore and finished inside her, yanking her hair and making her arch her back in time with him, they chased each other to the bathroom and took a shower. He pretended to drop the soap constantly and she always pretended to be surprised. Harry cheekily informed her the only way to get clean was to get absolutely dirty first. She couldn’t stop laughing—or kissing him.

When they sobered up enough, Elizabeth pulled on one of his white t-shirts and his black, wide brimmed hat and ordered sushi for room service. Harry flicked on the television and perched beside her on the bed, critically peeling an orange. He studied her. “Most people don’t eat sushi with forks.”

“It’s one of my few personality flaws.” She speared a slice of California Roll and stared at it before popping it in her mouth. “I’m physically inept at using chopsticks and I’m pigeon-toed. Well, the pigeon-toe thing has gotten better. But my feet still turn in, see? This is why I got kicked out of ballet as a child.”

“I have four nipples.”

“You have a damn sexy body, Hazza. You know my weakness is long haired British boys with tattoos. Specifically those with four nipples from Cheshire.”

“Or, as Keith Richards called me, the twink in tight pants who’s fucking his daughter.”

She laughed and rolled against him, feeding him a piece of sushi. “Aw, Hazza, he liked you. He really did. My favorite part of the afternoon was when he told me that I shouldn’t date boys in a band and I called him a bastard. We have a delightfully dysfunctional relationship. But, no, he texted me later and told me that he was very impressed with my choice in a man and he completely approves of you.”

“You never told me that.”

“Really? I thought I did.” She shoved another piece of sushi in her mouth. “He said you were level headed and he wished he’d been like that when he was your age.”

“I actually thought he was indifferent to me.”

“It’s because his face is riddled from cocaine abuse. It’s hard to tell happy from indifferent.” She grabbed his arm and motioned at the television. “Oh my God, you’re on television.”

Harry laughed, fumbling for the remote. “That’s the Tonight Show from like, two months ago. It’s always nice to see BBC One is so current with its American programming. I’ll turn it.”

“Nooooo, I want to see it.” She snatched the remote from him and tossed it from the side of the bed. “I like Jimmy Fallon. Not, like like, but you know. He’s a classy dude.”

Harry snuggled down against her, burying his face against her stomach. “I don’t like watching myself on television.” “

I do.” She ran her fingers through his hair, staring at the sheepish onscreen Harry. He looked so serious and intense on The Tonight Show; she could imagine he was trying to mentally keep the questions directed away from him.

She was right. Fallon’s next question was about her. “So, Harry, I know you don’t really address it in interviews, but you and Elizabeth Richards.”

The crowd erupted in screams and onscreen Harry blushed, his lips spreading into a shy smile. “Yes.”

A photograph of her and Harry, walking hand in hand together in LA flashed on the screen. Fallon said, “You two keep things incredibly quiet; you really don’t say much about each other in interviews. Why is that?”

Onscreen Harry shrugged. “We like keeping the focus on our projects, not on each other. It’s just a normal relationship in an abnormal setting, I mean, with her movies and with One Direction. We don’t need our pictures on the covers of magazines or as the lead story on the news to be happy.”

“But you two are happy?” Fallon held up his hands as if in surrender. “Last question about her, I swear.”

He smiled broadly, his expression punctuated by his dimple, and nodded. “Yes, we’re extremely happy. I love her very much.”

“Aw, Hazza.” She tugged on his shoulder until he rolled towards her. “That was adorable.”

He squirmed up into a sitting position and crawled on top of her, pushing the hat back so he could kiss her harder. “It’s true. I don’t care who knows.”

“I’m terrified to meet your mother tomorrow. Her opinion is the one that seems to hold the most weight, like, if she doesn’t like me I have absolutely no idea what I’ll do.” Her throat felt raw and sore as she swallowed hard. She shuddered: this better not be illness coming on. There was too much shit to do with the movie. “Oh, God, tomorrow is going to be insane.”

“My Mum is going to love you.”

“I immediately regret so many of my previous movie roles that contained nudity and sex.” She pouted. “Please tell me your mother doesn’t watch my movies. Shit, she hasn’t seen ‘Abducted,’ has she? Because that one part—“

“Baby, it’s going to be fine.” Harry leaned forward and kissed her, cupping her cheek with his hand and holding her in place.

As they kissed, the preview for the next television show blared on, louder than the Tonight Show’s volume. Elizabeth was vaguely aware of a female reporter’s voice, “New exclusive pictures: is Elizabeth cheating on Harry? Our very own Samantha Juste is live in New York with the rumors circulating about Harry’s girl and Lee Pace. Does their relationship extend beyond the movie set?”

Harry abruptly stopped kissing her. He turned and looked at the television.

“Harry, relax.” Elizabeth nodded towards the screen. “Those so called exclusive pictures are pictures from the movie set.”

He was quietly looking at the screen, a picture of Elizabeth wrapped in actor Lee Pace’s arms, her leg up and pinned in place by his elbow. Their expressions were serious, intense. Elizabeth shook her head. “I can see where this looks bad, but trust me. I can tell you exactly what scene that is; you can see the background. It was taken inside the ballroom at the Waldorf-Astoria. I broke the heel off one pair of shoes we danced so much. It’s not what they’re making it out to be.”

Harry stood and retrieved his cell phone from the nightstand. He ran his finger across the screen a few times and then turned it towards her. It was another picture of her and Lee, this time obviously standing to the side of the set. He was tipping her backwards and kissing her neck. She was laughing. Harry cleared his throat. “What about this one?”

“Where’d you get that?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She looked up at him, the sting of tears pricking the back of her eyes. “Harry. It’s a movie set. You have to take it in context—“

“You’re not filming in this one.”

“I can’t remember every second on the set, Harry. It’s been five months—“

“You remembered the other pictures pretty well. What about this one?”

“Are you accusing me of cheating on you?” Her eyes filled with tears; she fought to hold them back. “Because if you’re going to blame me for everything I’ve ever done with a man in a movie, we should just end it now.”

Harry pulled the phone back and stared at the screen. He wobbled slightly, obviously still under the influence of all the champagne they’d had. “A friend sent it to me. They said they didn’t want to see me get hurt.”

“Oh, a friend? A friend like Taylor?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or Kendall?”

“I’m not accusing you of cheating, I just want to know what this is about.”

“It’s a movie, Harry. I’m in love with Lee in the movie. I don’t fall in love with every costar I have, Jesus Christ.” She cringed and looked away from him. That had been a flat out lie, she’d only hooked up with Chris, Sebastian, and Brad because of movie roles. “Bad example.”

He sighed and sank down onto the bed next to her. “I’m just so afraid of losing you, Lizzie. It’s hard to see shit like this and not get fucking pissed off at that bastard. I hate seeing him touch you like that.”

Elizabeth scooted closer to him and rested her head against his shoulder. “Lee is a nice guy. He knows that I’m in love with you. He’s not trying to hit on me or pull me away from you. I swear, Harry. It’s just the movie business. This is what it is.”

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips to her temple. “I’m acting like a fucking idiot. I just don’t want to ever lose you.”

“You won’t Harry, I swear.”

He kissed her again. She searched his eyes with hers; he was still drunk and she knew it. But the hurt was still there.

It broke her heart.

Notes