Summertime & Butterflies

“I promise, we’re here now,” Harry assured Olivia, though he’d promised her the same promise three times in the last ten minutes. Olivia didn’t care – she’d drive to Mexico with Harry so long as the 80’s rock and hand-holding remained constant. He shifted gears, slowing the car down as he pulled into a wide spot on the road about ten miles south of her sister’s place. The Pacific Ocean was glistening to the west and Olivia, feeling punchy, looked at Harry and grinned.

“Jack… this is where we first met!” she told him with facetious astonishment and gesturing grandiosely, referencing the hellish trip over the Pacific they’d taken together just days prior.

Harry grinned at her and shook his head, turning off the car. “Nah… I first noticed you in the terminal in Vancouver,” he told her, somewhat embarrassedly. Olivia stared at him, shocked he’d noticed her before she became noticeable. “You were on the phone with someone… and your zipper on your suitcase was broken. You were trying to tie an elastic around the… like, the handle part of the zipper… and you looked so annoyed, rolling your eyes all sassy-pants like…” He smiled in retrospect, remembering the girl at the airport in Vancouver, who he was now holding hands with on the South Shore of Los Angeles.

“You saw me there?” asked Olivia, her mind instantly wondering what she was wearing and how she looked at the ungodly early hour before the flight to Los Angeles. She felt bad, having not noticed Harry. She remembered seeing a cute airport security guard, but not Harry – a tidbit she’d keep to herself.

“How could I not?” he wondered, his voice low, as though he was speaking only to himself. He smiled at Olivia before opening his door. She followed suit, though she wondered if she’d stayed put, if he would open her door for her. To her, opening the door before she was in the car was chivalrous. Opening it while she was sitting in the car was laziness, on her part.

“So, what?” Olivia asked Harry, gazing at the view before them. The ocean was beside them, but a steep cliff separated the narrow road from the bright blue water. “You gonna push me down the cliff? Tuck and roll?”

“Hence the sweater. For protection,” Harry told her, smirking as he opened the back door of the car. “Erm… but actually… I brought some food and stuff… and I thought it’d be nice to, like… just sit on the beach and have a few bites and just… like, talk and stuff, you know?”

Olivia walked to the driver’s side of the car and stood next to Harry, peering into the backseat and examining what he’d brought. She saw three bags – one had cellophane and wrapping poking out of it, and she assumed it was food. Another bag looked as though it contained fabric – a blanket, maybe . She couldn’t tell what was in the third bag, but regardless, she was impressed by his effort.

“Wow,” Olivia commented. “You did some planning here, didn’t you?” She touched his back for a second or two, wanting to show her appreciation but not wanting to be condescending. She also didn’t want to tell him that she’d never had a guy pack a picnic lunch for her with plans to just sit and talk. She didn’t think it was something she ever wanted, but now on the brink of her first romantic date, she couldn’t wait to cuddle on the beach with Harry.

He smiled at her, pulling the bags out of the car, one by one, and setting them on the ground beside him. “I just thought it would be nice…” he told her, sounding a bit uncertain of his date choice.

“It is!” Olivia quickly assured him. “It’s really, really nice. Thank you,” she added, feeling as though Harry was someone who needed reassurance for his decisions. But, who was she to deny him that, as she could be exactly the same.

“Eh, it’s more for me than you,” Harry teased her, sounding relieved as he shut the car door. “I have a thing for picnics on beaches I’ve never been to. I just needed the company,”

“Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” Olivia teased back, watching Harry loop two of the bags across his elbows. She wasn’t sure if it would be de-masculinizing to him, but she bent down to pick up the third bag – thankfully, the lightest one – before he could.

“I can take that,” Harry told her, reaching out to take the bag from Olivia. As he did so, one of the ones he already had in his arms slid down to his wrist. She let out a laugh, holding the bag close to her chest and turning her body away from him.

“Don’t be so greedy,” she told him, making her voice sound like a whiny child. “I want a bag too!”

Harry let out an endearing chuckle. “Well, I suppose since you asked so nice…” he answered, adjusting the bags and gesturing towards a narrow path on the west side of the parking lot. “So… apparently, there’s a really nice little cove, right down this path. Should be nice?” he stated, his tone taking on a rising inflection as though he was still uncertain about his date idea.

“It sounds perfect,” Olivia told him honestly as they began to walk towards the path. The ocean stretched out in front of them, glistening as the rays of the warm spring sun bounced off the water, akin to diamonds sprinkled about. As the duo descended the path, the salty sea breeze greeted them, cool and refreshing against their senses.

At the bottom of the hill the path veered right, but Harry turned, leading Olivia to the left. The path disappeared and was replaced with rocks and pebbles, tufts of grass poking up between the stones. He looked over his shoulder, smiling at Olivia as he reached out to take her hand.

“Careful,” he advised kindly, helping her keep her balance as they stepped around the rocks. Olivia could see a break in the rocky terrain just a few feet ahead. A small, sandy beach lay nestled between the cliffs and the ocean, the sun shining into the cove. It was breathtaking.

“This is beautiful,” Olivia said in awe, stepping off the rocky path onto the warm, damp sand. It was hard to believe that something so private could be found in the middle of Los Angeles. “How did you find this place?” she asked, her gaze focused on the ocean. She’d been to the ocean before, of course, but somehow, this time felt as though it was the first time.

Harry grinned, clearly pleased with her reaction. “My sister told me about it,” he answered, setting his bags down on a patch of grass before stepping beside Olivia. “It really is beautiful,” he added, his eyes locked on Olivia, however, and not the ocean or the sandy cove. He reached for her bag, letting his finger slowly drag up Olivia’s arm. She visibly shivered under this touch and he laughed, rubbing both of her arms vigorously.

“Good thing for that sweater, huh?” he teased her, letting the words hang in the air, suggesting that she wouldn’t need the sweater to keep her warm so long as he was near. Harry wrapped his arms around her forearms and pulled Olivia close to his chest. Her arms were flat against her sides and she was unable to reciprocate the hug, but she reached her hands forward, looping her fingers through his belt loops and feeling incredibly protected enveloped by Harry.

“Good thing,” she agreed, her voice low as she turned her head to look out at the ocean. She could feel Harry rest his head atop hers, and she had to let out a chuckle. This couldn’t be her real life. She wasn’t the girl who went on romantic dates with a guy who opened doors and stood from his chair when she left the room. She was the girl who drank too many pints at the bar and let the town wannabe-Casanova woo her into his bed. This was like a movie – only it wasn’t. Everything that was happening was happening, and she wondered how a small town girl who cussed too much and didn’t work out enough managed to snag the attention of someone like Harry.

“What’s funny?” he wondered, the words murmured into her hair.

“Nothing,” Olivia assured him. “Just… it’s funny how I puked on you just a couple days ago, and now we’re here, and it’s just… weird. Good weird!” she quickly added. “Just funny how things can go.”

“Yeah… it doesn’t take much to woo me,” Harry told Olivia, his voice deadpan. He snickered after a moment, dropping a light kiss on the top of her head before pulling away. He smiled at Olivia, looking as though he wanted to say more but instead, gestured to the bags holding the picnic supplies.

“Shall we?” he asked. When Olivia nodded, they untangled themselves from one another and stepped towards the bags. Harry reached into one of the bags and pulled out a faded, floral comforter that looked as though it belonged on the guest bed at Grandma’s house. A sheepish grin crossed Harry’s face as he gave the blanket a shake.

“It’s clean, I promise,” Harry told Olivia, shaking the blanket again and trying unsuccessfully to get it to lay flat against the sand. The wind blew under the blanket, pushing it up and against Harry’s face. Olivia laughed, watching him struggle for a moment before reaching out and grabbing a corner of the blanket.

“It’s perfect,” she told Harry, pulling her corner tight and placing a large rock on top of it. Truthfully, she wouldn’t have been impressed if Harry had brought a Siberian goose down comforter for their picnic lunch. Seeing the older blanket showed her that despite his fame and apparent wealth, he was just a normal guy on a picnic with a normal girl. Olivia liked that thought.

She kicked off her shoes and settled onto the blanket, watching as Harry joined her and pulled another bag closer to him. “So, you have a sister?” asked Olivia, stretching her legs out and propping herself up on one elbow as Harry began pulling picnic supplies out of the bag. Most of the containers were in Styrofoam to-go containers, remaining a mystery to Olivia.

He nodded, arranging the containers in a way that only made sense to him. “Yeah. Gemma,” he answered, smiling at the mention of his sister – a reaction that wasn’t lost on Olivia. She knew that how a man treated his sisters or mother spoke volumes about how he would treat a romantic partner. “She’s a few years older than I am. She’s brilliant and sassy… Kinda reminds me a bit about you,” he added, looking up at Olivia and smiling. “I mean… not in all the ways,” he quickly corrected with a bashful chuckle, still focusing on the take-out containers. “But, I mean… you’re just both smart, and cheeky. You’re cuter than she is, though,” he told her, playfully nudging Olivia’s arm.

“I am cuter than most,” Olivia joked back as Harry pulled out a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and set them on the on the blanket. Olivia beamed when she saw the chips. “Oh, gosh!” she exclaimed, sounding more excited than she intended. “Those are my favourite!”

Harry smiled, wordless as he unzipped an insulated wine koozie and pulled out a bottle. Olivia recognised the New Zealand label immediately as one of her most sought-after bottles – though rarely purchased. At thirty-five Canadian dollars a bottle, she couldn’t justify it more than a time or two a year.

It was rather happenstance that Harry had managed to buy her favourite wine and Cool Ranch Doritos, but Olivia didn’t think too much of his purchases until he emptied the rest of the snacks onto the blanket. Double Stuffed Oreos. Goldfish crackers. Nibs. Green jelly beans. She furrowed her brow, confused, as she looked at Harry.

“This is… like, all my favourite junk food…” she told him with a laugh, trailing off. If it wasn’t a coincidence, it was an awfully good guess. “How did you manage that?”

Harry shrugged, biting his lip before smiling at Olivia. “I just wanted to make sure I got stuff you liked… so I asked your sister,” he confessed. “I hope that’s okay…” he added uncertainly.

“Of course it is,” answered Olivia, taken aback by the gesture. To some, it may not have seemed like a big deal. It was just wine and junk food. But to her, it was about a man caring about her own likes and wants, wanting to ensure that she felt comfortable on their date. “I’m… ” She paused, not wanting to come off as self-loathing or insecure, but also not wanting to divulge that she’d never have a date care so much about her wants and likes. Even Ryan, the man she dated for three years, didn’t put forth any effort to impress or please Olivia. But Harry didn’t need to know all of that. “Thank you,” she simply stated instead.

“You’re welcome,” answered Harry, opening the wine bottle and pouring Olivia a glass. “But first, the main course,” he told her, gesturing to the to-go containers. He sat up straighter and flipped open the lids, each container holding the ingredients for DIY fish tacos.

“Oh, my gosh,” Olivia said with a laugh. This boy just kept the surprises coming. “Guess what?”

“You hate fish tacos,” Harry guessed with a cheeky smirk, handing Olivia a paper plate.

“Despise them,” she kidded, moving her hand to the side of her mouth. “Except I might be drooling…” she pondered jokingly.

Harry reached up, touching Olivia’s face where her hand had just been. “Maybe just a touch,” he murmured to her, letting his hand graze across her cheek. His touch was so gentle, she could barely feel it, but at the same time, felt his touch deep into her core.

“I like you,” Harry said, his raspy voice low, “So… I’m gonna try to impress you. And if Cool Ranch Doritos or fish tacos is the way to go about that, then… I’ll start buying in bulk.” He grinned his charming grin again, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear and letting his hand caress along her jawline and down her neck. He let his fingers linger along her collar bone for a moment. Olivia involuntarily sucked in a breath, both of them realising how close his hand was to her chest.

Olivia watched Harry’s hand against her skin before looking up and meeting his eyes. Her stomach was tumbling and her heart was racing. She knew she only had a few days left in Los Angeles, so confessing feelings to Harry wouldn’t be the best idea on her part. But his eyes were so earnest, his gesture so kind, his touch so breathtaking, she couldn’t help herself.

“I like you too,” she told Harry, her cheeks flushing as she said those words, words she hadn’t told anyone in a very long time. “With or without fish tacos,” she teased, playfully nudging Harry’s leg with her foot. “But they do help.”

“Good,” Harry said in a near-whisper. His eyes still locked with Olivia’s, he slid down and mirrored her position, propping himself up on one elbow. With his free hand, he reached out and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger before brushing it behind her shoulder. “Can’t keep my hands to myself,” he sang out as he traced his finger along her shoulder, grinning coyly.

“I mean, I could, but why would I want to?” Olivia chimed in, though she wasn’t certain she could at this point. As if on cue, her hand reached out to teasingly poke the side of his stomach, slightly exposed as his shirt had ridden up. He didn’t have a six-pack; rather, he had a slight paunch poking out, a round little tummy that Olivia thought was a cross between the most adorable and sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

“Careful you don’t tickle me,” Harry warned as Olivia let her hand rest against his stomach. His comment caused her to wiggle her fingers against his skin, laughing as he squirmed under her touch.

“Why not?” asked Olivia, grinning as she gently wiggled her fingers more, allowing her digits to creep up slightly under his shirt.

He laughed, reaching down and taking her tickling hand and guiding it behind her, the motion causing Olivia to twist onto her back. “Because then I’d have to kiss you. It’s a law in England,” he added cheekily, his arm across Olivia’s stomach, still gripping her hand. He still had himself propped up on his elbow, but their proximity was now much closer.

Olivia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at his lame excuse for having to kiss her, but she still bit. “But we’re not in England,” she reminded him, matching Harry’s grin as she brushed the palm of his hand with her thumb.

“Did I say England?” he mused absent-mindedly, letting his lips brush against her cheek, her forehead. “I meant California...”

“Well, in that case…” Olivia answered, her hand softly running along the nape of Harry’s neck and into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. She could see the goosebumps along his arms, reacting to her touch. “It’s not a good idea to break the law…”

“No, it’s not a good idea at all,” he agreed softly, speaking the words against her lips. As he pressed his soft lips against hers, Olivia let her own lips part, hearing herself let out a soft moan. The tenderness of the kiss consumed Olivia and while still tentative and innocent, it was clear that this kiss had more passion behind it. She let go of his hand, her free hand now joining its mate, gripping the back of Harry’s neck and pulling him down closer to her. Their lips danced wildly together; their tongues embracing. His free hand caressed her arm – up from her wrist, across her shoulder, to her neck and back again. The movement caused his arm to brush up against Olivia’s breast, and her breath hitched in her throat at the contact but she made no motion to stop him.

Her hands, still tangled in his curly mop of hair, slowly found their way down to the nape of his neck and across his shoulders. His skin was unbearably soft. Olivia let her hands drop to his chest, wandering under his gaping T-shirt and feeling the softness of his chest. She could feel his heart beating wildly and she let her hand linger for a moment against the beat. Getting the sense that Harry was looking at her, Olivia opened her eyes. He grinned at her, covering her hand on his chest with his own hand.

“Look what you’ve done to me,” he murmured to her. Without waiting for Olivia to respond, Harry found Olivia’s lips again and enveloped them with his. “Have I done the same for you?” he wondered innocently, giving her a cheeky grin as he let his hand skim against her décolletage.

“What are you doing?” Olivia asked, letting out a giggle at his touch.

“Just checking on your heartbeat,” Harry told her, the cheeky grin still prominent on his face as he explored the upper region of her bosom, causing Olivia’s breathing to hasten. “It’s sort of hard to feel it underneath… these…” He trailed off, seeming mesmerized by the curves of the woman beneath him. “But, I’ll do my best. For science, of course,” he teased, allowing himself a couple more ventures across her breasts before moving his hand back towards her shoulders.

Olivia laughed, gently slapping Harry’s forearm teasingly. “You’re a brat,” she affirmed, though she was suggesting her was more a brat for moving his hand away from her chest than for the initial touch. But seeing as she was on a semi-public beach with a well-known celebrity during daylight hours, Harry’s innocent heartbeat check was as risqué as the date should get.

Harry chuckled, propping himself up again and looking down into Olivia’s eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he countered, allowing himself to lean down and brush a stray hair from her forehead. He paused, his hand lingering in her hair and the same look on his face that Olivia believed meant he had more to say. He didn’t. Rather, he smiled, ducking his head bashfully before finding her lips again. Olivia reciprocated earnestly, deciding that anything Harry may or may not want to say could wait. Kissing him was more important.

Notes