Summertime & Butterflies

Harry let out a laugh. “So,” he echoed Olivia’s statement, taking a drink. Olivia felt awkward, sitting alone with a man she barely knew, but felt she should know due to his fame. She briefly wondered if she should apologise for not knowing who he was, but she got the feeling he and Louis liked that the sisters had no idea who they were.

“I have to apologise for –“

“I’m sorry, my sister –“

Harry and Olivia uttered similar chuckles as their words overlapped each other. He ran his hand through his hair and smiled at Olivia again.

“He thinks he’s funny,” Harry told her with an apologetic shrug. “He doesn’t mean any harm by it, but he should stop.”

Olivia dismissed his words with a wave of her hand. “It’s completely fine, really,” she assured Harry, impressed that he felt the need to apologise for his friend. “My sister thinks she’s funny, too. I tell her all the time she’s not, but…”

“No, she’s lovely,” he told Olivia. He smiled, his mouth twitching slightly as though he was going to say more. “Uhm…”

“So what did you tell him about me getting sick?” Olivia blurted out, jerking a thumb towards the patio. “Sorry,” she added just as quickly, realising the bluntness of her question a moment too late. Her face heated up and she wished she could shake the middle school feeling. “Never mind that. Go ahead.”

“No, no,” Harry answered, ducking his head slightly. His smile came across as bashful and Olivia was perplexed. She didn’t think she was capable of saying or doing anything to make a huge pop star like him abashed.

“Erm…” he continued after a brief pause. “Well, I wouldn’t have said anything to him if I knew I’d be seeing you again. No, well…” he corrected himself, “I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s not polite to gossip.”

“I threw up on you,” Olivia reminded him. “I’d have told everyone if it happened to me,” she snickered. “Besides, aren’t you the one who said it was your right to make fun?” she reminded him, remembering their conversation from the plane.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Harry mused. “I was probably trying to make you smile. You have a great smile,” he added, offering Olivia his own great smile.

“Oh, jeez!” Olivia laughed. While she didn’t think she wasn’t worth the compliments – and three years of braces assured she did have a great smile - past experience told her that boys who charmingly complimented girls in a bar were nothing more than fuckboys looking for a lot more than flirty banter over a couple pints. First it was a comment on her smile, then eyes, then figure and before she knew it, the lonely girl was going home with the insincere boy.

“Thanks,” she added after a moment, Maybe Harry wasn’t a fuckboy. Then she laughed to herself – he was a rock star. Of course he was.

“It’s true,” he replied, his voice quiet, and Olivia wondered if he sensed her incredulity. “I’m not… anyway,” he corrected, changing his mind on what he was about to say, though Olivia had an idea. He grinned again and gently nudged Olivia’s shoe with his own.

“It’s not a line,” he assured her. “If I was going to give you a line, it’d be something like… do you like raisins?” He looked at Olivia expectantly and gestured for her to answer the question.

“Uhm… not really?” Olivia answered with a snicker, hoping she didn’t ruin Harry’s joke, and trying to ignore the flutter in her stomach caused by his foot touching hers.

“Then how about a date?” Harry finished, grinning proudly at the cheesy pick up line.

Olivia had to laugh. Whether Harry was a fuckboy only after one thing, or a genuinely nice man with a terrible sense of humour, the pickup line tickled her funny bone.

“That’s terrible,” she told him, moving her foot and intending on responding to his own foot nudge, but stopping at the last moment. Then she wondered if he was actually asking her on a date, and then she wondered further when she turned fourteen years old.

“Oh, it’s the worst,” Harry agreed. “But, it made you laugh, so it’s a bit of a win.”

Olivia laughed again. Harry commenting on her smile or her laugh made it almost impossible not to reciprocate with the complimented feature. “It did…” she agreed.

“Anyway, that’s what I told Louis,” Harry added, as though he read Olivia’s thoughts. Olivia noticed his face take on a reddish tinge as he spoke. “I told him you had a lovely laugh… and that you were… are… really pretty.”

“Really?” asked Olivia, the word “pretty” taking her by surprise. Usually fuckboys preferred the word “hot” or “sexy”. Pretty was rarely used. He was doing a good job at confusing Olivia –fuckboys usually didn’t sound so sincere, but how could he not be one?

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, his face still crimson. He shrugged, seeming more like one of the awkward teenagers in Olivia’s class than a chart-topping musician. He appeared to be so genuine, and Olivia wondered if a person was able to make himself blush on command.

“I also told him you had an impressive knack for stringing cuss words together,” he continued playfully. “I thought I’d heard them all, but sitting beside you, it was like… learning a new language. A very educational experience,” he added with a cheeky smirk.

Olivia laughed, pressing her hand on her forehead and ducking her head. “Well, I am a teacher, so it would be out of character for me to be any other way,” she answered after a moment.

“You are!” asked Harry, his face brightening at the revelation. “That’s lovely, teachers are wonderful. What do you teach?”

It was an unexpected reaction, considering Harry’s glamourous career and her own typical one, and she smiled appreciatively. “History and geography,” she answered. “Grade eleven and twelve. I don’t think I could handle anyone younger than that,” she added with a grimace.

“They must be a bit easier to reason with at that age,” he wondered, indicating to Olivia’s drink as the waitress approached their table. “Would you like another one?”

“Sure,” she answered, more slowly than necessary as she tried to determine if it was a nice gesture or an attempt at getting her drunk so she would be easier to take home. But, considering her bottle was nearly empty, she accepted. “Thank you.”

“What made you want to teach history and geography?” Harry asked Olivia, leaning slightly forward in his seat and focusing on her response. She was fascinated by his fascination about her career – the only thing that fascinated her about teaching before she entered the profession was the elusive staff room.

“Well… I was never very good at math or science,” Olivia confessed with a self-deprecating chuckle. “I was always fascinated by the world before us. All the kids always wanted to pretend to be Ninja Turtles or Power Rangers and I was the one like, hey, let’s play Little House on the Prairie!”

Harry laughed, his throaty chuckle replaced with a higher pitched giggle, as though he was thoroughly entertained by her comment. “That’s adorable,” he determined, his dimpled grin causing the butterflies to again take flight in Olivia’s stomach.

“Well, I was pretty adorable,” Olivia agreed, smiling thankfully at the waitress as she plunked the fresh drinks on the table.

“I’d say you still are,” he told her shyly, his comment punctuated with a smile before covering up his grin with a drink.

The giggle that erupted from Olivia at Harry’s compliment sounded like no laugh she’d ever emitted before. It was squeaky, shrill and she was certain it sounded more like one of the Chipmunks saying “tee-hee” than an actual laugh. She was mortified that such an unsophisticated sound came from her.

“Thanks,” she mumbled after a pause, taking a long gulp of her drink in hopes of ridding the heat from her face. “I try,” she added with another awkward snigger, breaking eye contact to rummage through her purse – a nervous habit she often pulled when she wanted to avoid eye contact.

He smiled, clasping his hands together and resting them on his lap, studying Olivia intently as she pawed through the second-hand Michael Kors that may or may not have been a knockoff.

“Where in Canada are you from?” he asked her after a few beats had passed.

She looked up from her bag, her hand clutching a half-empty bottle of Avon hand cream, the label decorated with candy canes. “What makes you think I’m from Canada?” she asked, sounding surprised as she squeezed a dollop of lotion onto her hands and rubbing them together before discarding the bag under her chair.

“Wild guess,” he answered teasingly. “And also, your accent.”

Olivia rolled her eyes at herself, feeling stupid. “I always forget I have one,” she confessed, knowing her statement made her sound like a complete idiot. Of course she had an accent. Everyone had an accent. She knew immediately that Harry was from England, so it was only natural that he immediately knew her nationality based on how she spoke.

“Uhm, I’m from BC,” she added in response. “The interior, like four hours from Vancouver. Small town, but I like it.”

“Small towns are nice,” Harry agreed. “What brings you down here, then? I mean to Los Angeles,” he added. “Not this place.”

“The Yelp reviews brought me here,” Olivia answered cheekily. “I mean, clearly. And my sister brought me to LA. She lives here,” she added. “So I’m just here for a bit of spring break R & R. And B,” she corrected, holding up her drink before taking a swig.

“I can imagine it’s needed, with your job,” he agreed. “So… you’re just here for a couple of weeks?”

It was then she decided that this conversation in this bar was as far as her fraternizing with Harry Styles would go. In Olivia’s mind, his question wasn’t an innocent continuation of their conversation. It was him trying to find out if they could both get theirs for a couple of weeks before anyone caught the feels and the “where is this going?” questions were asked. And while Olivia had a strong suspicion the fun would be good, she knew that launching into a couple of hot vacation trysts with a complete stranger with no chance of anything else happening would make her feel dirtier than the floor in the bar they were sitting in.

“Yeah, about that,” answered Olivia, subconsciously shifting her body away from his and crossing her arms across her chest. “Just going to hang out with my sister and the kids and stuff,” she added. “Haven’t seen them in a while, so it’ll be nice.”

Harry nodded. “Sounds like a nice time.” He agreed. “So… you’re going to be with them the whole time? Not going to see the sights or anything like that?”

Olivia shrugged dismissively. “Might go to Disneyland for a couple of days, but… Yeah, just some much needed sister time,” she told him, silently willing her sister to come back from wherever she was before Harry asked her if she wanted to see the view from his house and she had to awkwardly say no.

He ran his hand through his hair before wringing his hands together. “Well… I mean, maybe if you want, like… an evening away, or something… I could take you out for supper? And we could hang out more? I mean, this has been fun… right?”

He looked so adorably nervous that Olivia wanted to smack her more responsible subconscious. But she knew how she would feel after the events unfolded and she didn’t want to put herself through feeling low down and dirty. So she let out a quiet sigh and focused intently on tearing up the cardboard coaster on the table, avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” she admitted to him, keeping her eyes on the pieces of coaster between her fingers. She knew if she looked up, she would change her mind.

“Oh.” Harry deadpanned, his voice sounding both surprised and disappointed. “Uhm… well, alright. But… why?”

“Oh my God, you guys!” Before Olivia could answer Harry, Stephanie’s voice filled the room, causing Harry and Olivia to turn and look at her. Louis followed in behind her. “They have full-size Jenga over there! Come on, we have to play!”

Olivia stared at her sister, silently telling her it was time to go and hoping Stephanie’s big mouth would stay shut and her endless questions about the night would be asked only once they were in the privacy of her car. Stephanie stared back at Olivia, her brow furrowed with confusion but obliged and shrugged.

“Unless… I guess it kind of late, isn’t it?” Stephanie countered, looking at Olivia and Harry and back again. “You’re tired?”

“Yeah,” answered Olivia quickly, standing up. The pieces of the coaster fluttered from her lap but she paid no mind to them. She forced herself to look Harry and offered him a remorseful smile.

“Thank you for a nice evening,” she told him before dropping her gaze and fishing a five-dollar bill from her pocket. She knew the cost of the drink meant nothing to him, but to Olivia, it was the principle of the drink and what it could have entailed.

“Sure,” Harry answered, his voice sounding as confused as Louis’ and Stephanie’s faces looked. “You take care,” he told her, shrugging in Louis’ direction as Olivia turned to leave the room.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” she told her sister as Stephanie stood by the bar, Visa in hand. Without waiting for a response from her, Olivia bolted outside, unable to shake the feeling that she’d just made a foolish mistake.

Notes