I had a thought, dear
However scary
About that night
The bugs and the dirt
Why were you digging?
What did you bury
Before those hands pulled me
From the earth?

I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask and neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips—

My music was abruptly cut off as my phone began to ring. I let out an annoyed groan. After setting down my paintbrush and wiping my hands I picked up my phone.

"Hello?" I asked as a squinted at the strokes I just added, trying to decide if I liked how they looked in the piece.

"Lia?" The gruff voice asked sounding surprised.

"Yes?" I frowned.

"Oh, didn't think ya'd answer. It's yer dad."

"Oh! Hey." All of my attention was immediately turned to the phone call. I stood up and began wandering around the studio, no longer being able to remain seated. "What's up? Everything alright?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah everythin's fine. I jus' wanted...Lia I'm sorry fer the way I've been actin. I know ya didn't mean anythin by it an’ that the boys are jus' yer good friends. The media is always makin up stories an I was gullible enough te fall fer one o' them. I'm sorry fer accusin ya and not believin ya."

I let out a quiet sigh and began playing with one of the easels. "I'm sorry too. For saying what I did. I know you didn't mean it and I forgive you...and I also forgive you for not telling me you lot were home."

He let out a chuckle and I was relieved at the sudden ease of tension. It had been nearly two weeks since the boys had come back from tour but it was the only think I could think of to lighten the mood. I continued to wander around the studio as he said, "Oi! I was sworn to secrecy!"

"They nearly gave us a heart attack! They jumped poor Mackenzie as she was walking up the flat, she thought she was being abducted!" I added as my father laughed even louder.

"Poor girl. Hope she's not still in shock. How's she holdin up with all da attention? More importantly, how're you holdin up?"

"I'm alright. I'm more distraught over my work load then media attention," I laughed. But he didn't believe me.

"And Twitter?"

"I actually like talking to some of the fans on twitter, most of them are really nice and usually just want someone to talk to.”

He let out a small chuckle before returning to seriousness. “Always so empathetic, jus' like yer mum. Do me a favor an' promise you'll be careful Lia. They can get pretty nasty."

"I'll be careful, I promise."

We continued to talk for another quarter of an hour. He updated me on the kids and that Clodagh had told him to tell me hi and ask when I was going to visit again. We ended the conversation in good spirits and I was relived with the knowledge that my father didn't hate me after all.

I wandered back over to my painting and stared at it for a moment. I was hoping to enter it into the show, but I'm not sure it would make the cut. I normally created photorealistic drawings, however this semester my professor challenged me with turning those drawings into paintings.

Drawing came naturally to me, but painting was a whole new level. For each drawing I was trying a different technique, to see which one I liked best. But the broad strokes looked too messy for my liking and I was debating just scrapping it. I zeroed in on the spot I had been working on and quickly picked up my brush to resume working.

I knew that look dear
Eyes always seeking
Was there in someone
That dug long ago
So I will not ask you
Why you were creeping
In some sad way I already know

So I will not ask you where you came from
I would not ask and neither will you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

I jumped and turned to see my favorite member of One Direction leaning against the doorway. He had his hair hidden in a hat and was wearing a worn grey sweater with blue jeans. He looked hot.

"Geez, you scared the shit out of me!" I laughed. Harry broke into a smile and wandered over, kissing me on the temple before sitting down.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Well, I guess I can forgive you," I said with a smirk, which he quickly returned. "How did you find me anyway?"

"Maeve," he answered with no further elaboration. Harry reached over and started playing with a paintbrush while I stared at him. He looked up to see me staring and smiled, "You have paint all over you."

"Oh really that's odd," I said with sarcasm. "It's not like we're in a painting studio or anything Harold."

"You look like a rainbow," he replied.

"Aren't I pretty?"

"Lovely," he smiled. "How much longer are you staying here?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "What's the time?"

"Half past four."

"What!"

He let out a chuckle. "How long have you been down here?"

"Since nine." His moth dropped and I shot him an apologetic smile. "I wanted to get this section done. It's got me stuck."

Harry leaned over to look at it. "Thalia! That's amazing! Is that Kenzie?"

"Yeah. I took the picture of her last year before her performance of the nutcracker. But I can't get her stupid hand right…it’s so much harder with paint," I said with a frown. He turned to look at me and burst out laughing.

"There's nothing wrong with her hand!"

"Yes there is! Look." I took Harry's hand and pulled him five steps back away from the painting. We stood there looking at for a moment. "It wrong. It looks like a hook."

"She can be a pirate dancer," Harry offered, giving me a smile. I returned with a glare. He spun around in a circle with his hand sticking out like a hook, causing me to laugh so hard I got stitches in my side. He ruffled my hair before saying, "Thalia, it doesn't look like a hook."

"It's bugging me." I wiped my eyes and grabbed my brush and got back to work as Harry let out a chuckle and sat down next to me. We sat for a while talking and joking around as he watched me work. I was surprised he stayed, but was grateful for the company. At one point Harry picked up my sketchbook and began doodling.

"Look, I made art," he said after a moment. He had drawn two stick figures.

"You should enter that in the show," I smirked.

"I don't know I might beat you."

"Mm I don't know about that."

"How do you draw like that?" He asked, turning serious. I let a laugh and moved my chair so I was next to him.

"Draw that box over there," I said, pointing to my cardboard box of paints. He did as he was told, and when he finished he turned to look at me with a frown. I gave him a smile and said, "You didn't draw the box."

"Yes I did."

"No, you drew a cube. You didn't even look at it," I put my hand over his and began to guide it around the page. Looking at the box rather then the page as I worked. "You can't look at it as a box, because it's not a box. It's lines. It's lines with bends, curves, and breaks. You have to draw what you see Harry, not what you think you see."

I finished drawing and looked up to see him looking at me with those bright green eyes. They were staring at me in wonder, scanning my face and taking me in.

"What?" I laughed. He shook his head in response and gave me a peck on the lips.

We packed up our things and headed back out into the world of the living. I had effectively spent nine hours in the studio and it was now suppertime. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until Harry invited me over to his for dinner.

"What shall we make?" He asked as we stepped inside his flat. I had grown so used to his home, and took in a deep breath before turning to him.

"What do you have?"

"We have pasta."

"Well then. We can have a lovely little Italian dinner. Do you have cheese?"

"For wine?"

"No, for the pasta," I laughed.

We set to work cooking in the kitchen, dancing around and bumping into each other playfully. Once we had finished we had a full course meal on our hands, complete with a salad, pasta, wine, and not so traditional candy for dessert.

"Oh wait!" I frowned as Harry disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later he returned with two candles. I burst into laughter as he lit them and took his seat across from me.

"This is cozy," I said, failing at hiding a smirk from my face.

"Most candle-lit dinners are Tootles."

"Well I wouldn't know Walt, I've never been on one."

"What's-his-name never took you to dinner?"

“Does McDonalds count?”

“No!” He cried out, dropping his fork in shock. I couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “You’re trying to tell me that you’ve never been on a real date? I don’t believe you.”

“I’ve gone to the movies,” I shrugged.

Harry snorted. “I still don’t believe you.”

“Harry, I’ve never really dated anyone before. Calhan was the closest I got to romanticism, and all we did was hang out at his flat and go to parties.”

“The bloke who threw of a phone at your head was romantic?”

“See how naive I am?”

"It's a same really."

"Isn't it?"

“So you’ve never had an official relationship?”

“According to you, no.”

Harry frowned. And I let out a laugh. This conversation was growing weirder by the second, but for some reason it wasn’t awkward at all. We were both learning more about each other – well Harry was learning more about me. We had become close as best friends, but now we were become close as...lovers? How strange.

“Not everyone searches for a relationship. Although you’re on the opposite end of the spectrum aren’t you, Mr. Heartthrob?”

“The media seems to think I date anyone within ten feet of me, but I promise my number is much lower than they claim.”

“Hmm, for some reason I believe you,” I smirked.

“So is that why you don’t want to be official?” he asked. “Because you never have before?”

“That’s part of it.”

"Scaredy cat."

I made a claw motion paired with a hiss, causing him to laugh. Once we had regained our breath I turned to him with a more serious tone. "Name calling will get you no where Dimples."

“You know I’m just going to keep pestering you until you say yes.”

I smiled before taking a sip of wine, “I’m counting on it.”

Notes