Mad About The Boy - Dinah Washington

Walking through the hotel lobby I thought about turning on my heel and walking back out, but instead I continued to the lift and waited for the doors to open.

I’d been to this particular hotel a few times with Will: we’d had dinner and several pre theatre show drinks, but I’d never stayed the night. Not that I was about to stay the night; this was purely a casual drink with a friend, a casual drink in a hotel room, in private so no one would see us and get the wrong idea.

Harry and I had bumped into each other once more whilst I was in a bar with Rose – a night of watching Dirty Dancing and drinking wine had turned to jumping into a cab and going to meet with a couple of Rose’s friends, Georgie and Fran. Georgie and I hated each other but as she also knew Will through work we were the best of frenemies, smiling and hugging each other like we didn’t roll our eyes at the mere mention of each other’s names.

“I thought that was you!” Harry said as he appeared almost out of nowhere, his arm sliding around my waist to pull me to him in a hug. “I saw you walk in but I wasn’t sure.”

Contrasting to how nervous I’d been seeing him in the cafe, I now had two bottles of wine behind me so I’d hugged him back, my arm remaining wrapped around his neck while we spoke.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that, Mr. Styles. I am an old lady, you have to be gentle with me.” I stood on tip toes to talk into his ear over the music; he smelled like alcohol and aftershave and his neck looked so tempting, I wanted to kiss it. I watched as he licked his lips, their pink wetness making him look even more attractive in my drinker haze. “Not too gentle, I hope.” His voice, deep and gravelly in my ear, made me groan internally.

Outside, however, I laughed and stepped away from him a little to playfully push him. “You can’t talk to me like that! I am a married woman, remember?”

“Sadly, I do remember”, he grinned and took a large swig from his glass. “But, I’d like to meet you for a drink. Do you think we could be trusted?” He winked and laughed again.

“I could be, I’m not so sure about you”, I teased. “Do you think it would be a good idea for us to be seen alone?”

“We’d go somewhere we couldn’t be seen, and I can say that it would definitely be a good idea for us to be alone.”

“Harry, you’re drunk!” He’d nodded with a lazy smile. “But sure, why not.”

I’d hesitated when he handed his phone to me, “Give me your number.”

Knowing full well that what I was doing was definitely not my smartest move, I ignored the warnings my brain gave and went along with the nervous excitement in my stomach.

Now, as I walked down the long, elegantly decorated corridor, looking for the room number Harry had texted me along with the hotel name and a time, the excitement was back and so were the doubts. Once again I ignored them, raised a shaking fist to knock on the door and waited for Harry to answer.

Harry’s smile was dazzling when he opened the door, both dimples making an appearance and eyes sparkling as he looked me up and down. He’d obviously not long stepped out of the shower, his hair leaving wet patches on the shoulders of his loose, white tee. He also wore tight, black skinny jeans with tears on the knees but his feet were bare.

“Can I take your coat?”, Harry asked but I shook my head. I’d chosen to wear a short, black velvet dress with stockings and heels; in the car here I’d felt I could rule the world, but now I felt like a cheap tart.

“I’m not sure I’m staying.” I looked around the room and suddenly felt sick.

The hotel suite was large and ornate, gold brocade light fixtures hung on the walls which were a soft apple green. A cream three piece sofa filled the centre of the room surrounding a gold coffee table, which carried an ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two flutes cooling inside.

“Would you like a drink?”, Harry asked, his hand on my lower back, leading me over to the sofa and filling one of the glasses with bubbles before I could refuse. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’ll tell you if I’m glad in ten minutes, I’m still not sure if this is a good idea.” I smiled weakly and wondered if I was visibly shaking.

As Harry sat on the sofa next to me, he was silent. I couldn’t look at him or even look around the room, I just stared into the bottom of my glass wondering what had possessed me to come.

“Are you ok?”, Harry eventually broke the silence. “I wish we could go to dinner, or even go to my house, but the paps follow me everywhere, I didn’t want you to be seen.”

The whole situation now felt doubly seedy: I could explain going for dinner or visiting Harry’s home, but a hotel in a city we both lived in? If Will found out, there would be no reason to give that wouldn’t sound like a lie.

The feeling of Harry’s hand on my knee was like a lightening bolt that had me jumping from my seat, the empty glass in my hand being slammed down onto the table hard enough I was surprised it didn’t break and heading for the door.

“I need to leave.”

I fumbled with the handle until I felt Harry’s hand on mine–it was warm and slightly damp. I realised that despite his cool demeanour he was nervous too; anybody finding out about this would have bad consequences for both of us whether anything happened or not.

“Where are you going? Please don’t go, or at least let me sort out someone to come get you”, he pleaded. His voice was full of concern as he took hold of my hand and turned me to face him.

“There are taxis outside, I’ll get one of those. I’m sorry, Harry, but this was such a bad idea”.

He ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand, a look of concern written clearly across his face, and then pulled me reluctantly back to the sofa area.

“We’re just two people who get on having some drinks in private.” The concern was gone now and he spoke very matter-of-fact. “We’ll finish the bottle and if you still want to go, then you can, and I won’t bother you again. I just don’t want you to leave here upset.” I eyed the glass on the table and watched as Harry filled it with champagne then handed it to me. His fingers brushed mine and once again, I felt a jolt in my hand nearly causing me to drop my drink.

We spoke a little, keeping the topics light and avoiding anything that would mean we talked about Will. Eventually, I relaxed enough to open my coat and after a little more talk about the weather, I removed my coat altogether. Harry hid his glee well that he’d won me over, but I could see a smirk dance across his lips as he pretended not to see and take a sip from his glass.

“You look lovely, by the way”, he said, sitting back in his seat. His knee was bent up on the sofa making the tear in his jeans more prominent. “I’m finding it hard not to touch you”.

I felt a third jolt but this time it ran through my whole body and it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Despite now feeling tipsy and a little more comfortable I had no witty comeback, so I replied by taking another large gulp of champers and hoped it would begin to take effect.

I needed to get myself together.

Harry moved forward so he could top up my glass again.

“If I didn’t know any better, Mr Styles, I’d say you were trying to get me drunk.” My eyelashes fluttered and I bit my lower lip.

He laughed and the dimples in his cheeks became prominent once more. He drank from his own glass and polished it off in one go.

“I’m getting us both drunk”.

My eyes became transfixed as he spoke: lips pink and soft looking with a beautiful cupid’s bow. The urge to kiss him hit me like a brick. I thought about walking out again, but the want to leave had dissipated and I knew that was a bad thing.

We spoke for a while longer until, as agreed, the champagne bottle was empty. “Shall I get us another?”

The ball was back in my court.

Harry knew I was going to stay but he wanted me to say it. We sat in awkward silence, the bottle in one of Harry’s hands while he rested his head on the knuckles of his other. His green eyes burned into me as his words hung in the air.

“Are you going to stay?”

It wasn’t even an invite to stay the night; he just wanted to know if I was about to bolt for the door. But if I stayed it implied so much more would happen. And it would because we both wanted it to.

Notes

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