Middle Of The Road

“Lizzie, wake up.”

There’s a soft pressure on her shoulder and fingers dig lightly against her collarbone. She opens her eyes. The sun shines right in her eyes, so she immediately closes them again.

“What is it, pop star?” she asks as she rubs her eyelids with her fingertips. She can see pink, the light filtering through the thin skin. A jawn escapes her before she can put a stop to it.
“We’re almost at the pit stop,” Harry replies.

“How long was I out?” Lizzie inquires. She opens her eyes again carefully, this time prepared for the assault on her eyes. This time she doesn’t feel pain behind her eyes.

“Two hours. Not that long.”

Lizzie turns her head to look out of the window. Currently, they’re driving through a small village and they’re gaining a lot of attention. People are staring at the old car as Harry maneuvers it through the small streets. They’re probably guessing how it will take for it to break down and Lizzie can’t really blame them because she done the same.

When she’d seen Harry’s car for the first time, this morning, she’d regretted she’d decided to drive with Harry’s car instead of her own. When she’d made the decision at breakfast, she’d assumed Harry would have the better car, with being a pop star and all. Weren’t pop stars supposed to drive really big, new cars?

All though, Lizzie is glad Harry isn’t a pop star like that. She likes he doesn’t seem to want to splurge his money like so many of them do. Celebrity buying big yachts and enormous mansions gives her the hibbie jibbies. But why did he have to buy a car that is this run down?

Lizzie would like to ask him about it but she thinks he probably doesn’t want to share. It’s probably for some personal reason he doesn’t want to share with a stranger. Lizzie knows all about not wanting to share. It was the whole reason why she broke up with her ex.

And here she goes again, thinking about her ex-boyfriend when she’s supposed to forget about him now that she’s on a road trip. She just hopes this will be the last time that bastard pops up in her head.

“We’re going to be at the pit stop in about fifteen minutes,” Harry announces. His eyes divert from the road to look at Lizzie for a few seconds before they return.

“You said you went there with your band mates?” Lizzie asks. At the moment there isn’t any good music on the radio, so why not use the moment to get to know Harry better? After all, she’s going to be traveling with him for a long time.

“Yeah, it was about a year ago,” Harry shares. A small smile tugs at his mouth at the memory. “Niall was feeling a bit homesick and wanted to have a drink. We always stock up on booze, me and the lads like to drink a lot, but we already drank all of it, so we stopped at a small local bar we came across. Turns out, they played live music there and none of the people recognized us, so we decided to stay a little longer then we’d planned.”

“What kind of music do they play at that bar? I hope they don’t play country because I don’t like country,” Lizzie complains.

“They play the music you like,” Harry tells Lizzie. He doesn’t seem put out about Lizzie’s tone of voice, which she’s grateful for. She doesn’t want her traveling companion to get mad at her.

“Great.” Lizzie leans against the car window with the back of her head and observes Harry while he drives.

He has a look of concentration on his face. His mouth is pulled back, his eyes focused on the road and his eyebrows scrunched up just a little bit. The sun light plays with the black highlights in his chocolate colored hair and it looks rather nice.

A small smile starts to pull the corners of his mouth slightly upwards. His eyes flit to Lizzie’s before breaking their connection again. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No. I just like your hair,” is Lizzie’s honest reply. His curls look really soft and she wonders what it’d be like to run her hands through them. Maybe if she asks nicely, Harry will let her. After they’ve become friends.

“All the girls like my curls.” The smile has morphed into a grin and suddenly, there are dimples in his cheeks. They suit him really well. “They like the dimples, as well. I guess God took extra care when he created me.”

“You’re really fond of yourself, aren’t you?” Lizzie asks in jest. She can see by the look in Harry’s eyes that he’s joking himself. “Is that why you wanted to become a pop star? To grace the world with your presence.”

“That’s a beautiful way to put it. But doesn’t everybody grace the world with their presence?”
“Depends on who you ask,” Lizzie replies.

“I’m asking you.”

Well, Lizzie wasn’t expecting that – Harry asking her such a philosophical question. Why does he have to turn a simple question into something deeper? She hadn’t expected this from him.

“You’re going to answer my question first,” Lizzie fires back at Harry. She crosses her arms and looks at the boy with a stern look that’s belied by the quiver of the corner of her mouth.
“Alright, then. Because you asked so nicely,” Harry gives in with a chuckle. “No, that’s not why I became a pop star. I auditioned for the X Factor because I love music.”

“I see. You love music but you don’t mind playing someone else’s music?”

“What you mean?” Harry asks. His eyebrows are squeezed closer together as he gives Lizzie a confused look through the review mirror.

“Well, you play someone else’s music when you’re on the X Factor. And when you got a recording contract, you play music that someone else writes.” Lizzie explains. She tries to keep the judgment out of her voice because she knows she doesn’t have the right to judge Harry’s decisions and she doesn’t want to ruffle any feathers.

“Not necessarily.” Harry runs a hand through his curls before returning it to the stirring wheel. “If you want to write your own stuff, you’re allowed to record it. Talent shows aren’t as bad for music as some people think.”

Harry’s voice has remained at the same volume the whole time. He isn’t mad at Lizzie for speaking bad about the show that gave him the world. She wonders if this isn’t the first time he had to defend his choices to someone else.

“That’s great.” Lizzie’s voice is playful as she smiles at Harry. He doesn’t look at her. “I’m glad you’re allowed that much freedom.”

“Management isn’t as controlling as our fans think. They let us do our thing even when they don’t wholly agree. They trust us.”

This comes as a surprise to Lizzie. She knows for a fact that the people that manage pop acts are in fact very controlling. It’s all about perception and public image, even with rock bands. It isn’t like back in the seventies and eighteens when it were the artists who called the shots.

But she isn’t going to tell Harry that. It’s clear that this subject is sensitive to him. Lizzie wonders why that is. At time like this she wishes she knew One Direction better because maybe she’d have some idea.

“That’s great. I’m glad. Artist should be allowed to do what they feel good about.”

Harry has started to slow the car down. They’ve just driven into another town. He looks in the side mirror before stirring the car to the side of the road.

Lizzie looks through the front mirror as Harry drives the car into the small parking lot. In front of them is a small building build out of wood. The door is a red color that makes Lizzie think of expansive wine.

After Harry’s parked the car, he and Lizzie step out of it at the same time. Harry turns around to lock up the car while Lizzie stretches her tired muscles. She hopes they don’t have to drive for too long after the pit stop. She doesn’t really feel like trying to sleep with aching muscles.

When Harry and Lizzie enter the bar, there aren’t too many people around. The bar is small, probably only able to fit ten people at the same time. It’s probably not the only drinking establishment in the town.

The two travelers sit down at the bar, next to a guy with a very long, grey beard and a lot of tattoos. On the other side, a girl with long red hair is seated. She appears to be around thirty years old.

“What do you want?” Harry asks briskly, not looking at her. Maybe her inquiries has ruined his mood after all. She’s not going to talk about management again, then.

“A red wine, please,” Lizzie replies as she eyes his profile. There’s a tightness to his jaw and she doesn’t like it. She takes a quickly breath. “And Harry. I’m sorry I was being nosy. I was just trying to get to know you.”

“It’s alright. I’m just a bit grumpy and tired.” Harry turns his head so he’s looking at Lizzie and he smiles at her. It looks a bit strained, which can be attributed to tiredness. “I’ll try not to spoil the mood.”

“If you’re tired, I guess I’m going to have to help you wake up again.” Lizzie grins at Harry. “How do you feel about jokes?”

“I love jokes, but’s let’s order our drinks first,” Harry replies. Some of the lines in his forehead disappear as his face relaxes. His full lips curl up in a smile and he looks a little less tired.
Booze and jokes flow freely as Harry and Lizzie spend an hour in the bar. The music coming out of the speakers is really good, like Harry had promised and it makes the time flow even faster.

Before they know it, it’s already past the time they’d planned for the pit stop and they have to go again. They leave a big tip for the bartender for the great music and fine booze.

They drive into Kansas City one hour later. Their windows are down and Neil Young is softly playing on the radio. Harry has one arm hanging out of the window and one hand on the stirring wheel.

“We are we going to sleep?” Lizzie asks as she stifles a yawn. Tiredness has settled in her bones, making her body feel like it’s made out of lead. This isn’t going to stop her from performing tonight, of course.

“At the Best Western,” Harry replies. “There’s a piano bar nearby that I want to go to tonight. We’re not going to be able to perform but we can listen to music instead. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it was a good idea, seeing as we’re both tired.”

“I don’t mind,” Lizzie assures Harry. She would’ve liked to play tonight but she doesn’t mind listening to good music, instead. “How do you know about the bar.”

“Google, of course,” Harry jokingly replies. He switches lanes and switches on his right indicator. “I want to visit some music hot spots on my road trip. Go to all the places that’ve been important to music.”

“And this bar has been important to music too?” Lizzie asks.

“No, they just play good music there,” Harry replies. He stirs the car into the street to their right. A gentle smile plays on his slips as he turns his head towards Lizzie for a few seconds. “It’s the kind of music you like too.”

“Great. If they serve really good booze there as well, I’m going to be one happy camper.”
Lizzie crosses her arms and snuggles back against the passenger seat. Now that the sun has started it descend, it’s become chillier in the car.

It takes them another hour to get to the center of the city, where the hotel is situated. They would have been able to get there sooner if there hadn’t been so many cars on the road. When they pull up at the hotel, both can’t wait to get out of the car.

Bags in hand, Lizzie and Harry walk into the lobby of the hotel. Harry goes straight to the desk but Lizzie takes in the interior of the hotel first. The ceiling is low and painted in white.
The tiles on the floor are a color that’s a mix between orange and brown that Lizzie can’t remember the name of. There’s a couch as well as two chairs that both have a different brown color. The desk Harry is now leaning on as he talks to the clerk, is partly made of wood and has cute symbols painted on its yellow tiles. The earthy tones of the lobby gives the hotel a homely feeling.

When Lizzie has made her way towards Harry, the clerk is already getting their room keys. Harry turns to Lizzie as she stands next to him. There’s an easy smile on her lips that Lizzie can’t help but copy.

The clerk returns but he only has one key in his hands. With furrowed brow, Lizzie watches as Harry takes the key and thanks the slightly older man with a smile.

“Harry, what…” Lizzie starts to ask, but Harry interrupts her with the answer to her unvoiced question.

“All of the other rooms are already full, so you’re going to have to share with me, I’m afraid.” Harry has a slight pink hue to his cheeks, but that’s the only indication that he feels embarrassed about his proposal.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Lizzie protests.

“I’m afraid you have to share the same room, ma’am.” The clerk feels the need to interfere. “We have no vacancies left. It’s either that or find some other hotel to spend the night.”

Lizzie is tired and she doesn’t like having to deal with a rude desk clerk. Usually, she’s very polite, thank you very much, but she just doesn’t want this right now. She’s about to tell the irritating boy just what she thinks of his ‘hospitality’ but she’s stopped by the soft pressure of Harry’s hand on her shoulder. Lizzie turns her head to snap at Harry to let her go but she doesn’t have to heart to when she sees the bags under his eyes. That’s right, Harry is really tired too. In her anger she’d forgotten.

“I promise I’m not going to do anything inappropriate. We’re just going to sleep in the same bed,” Harry tries to bargain with Lizzie. Great, now Harry is making her sound like she’s some kind of prude.

“That’s not the problem, even though I appreciate it.” Lizzie lets out a sigh. “I just really like my privacy.”

“You can change in the bed room while I change in the bathroom if it helps,” Harry proposes. “The thing is, we’re going to have to share rooms more often than not, if we’re going to be traveling together. Unless you want to sleep at two different hotels but I don’t think that would be such a good idea.”

And of course Harry is right. Sleeping at two different hotels would be impracticle. So she’s just going to have to ignore her reservations and sleep in the same bed as Harry. She just hopes nothing embarrassing is going to happen.

“Alright then,” Lizzie says with a nod of her head. She shoulders her duffel bag and takes a step back so Harry can go walk in front of her. “Lead the way.”

“Up the stairs, first floor, fifth door,” the clerk tells Harry. He doesn’t spare Lizzie a glance.
Harry walks towards the stairs with his bags and Lizzie follows. They ascend the small stairs to the side of the lobby. The heels of Harry’s Cuban boots click against the tiles, Lizzie’s Toms are silent behind him.

The room isn’t all that big. There’s a queen-sized bed, a couch, a dresser with a TV on it and a small desk with a mirror hanging above it and a chair in front. The door to the bathroom is opposite the door leading to the hall. Like the lobby, the room has mostly earthly colors.

Lizzie goes straight to the couch as Harry puts down his luggage next to the dresser. He doesn’t start unpacking them, instead he turns to Lizzie. He runs a hand down his face, pulling his bottom lip down obscenely. Lizzie doesn’t stare, she really doesn’t.

“Is it okay if we freshen up a bit and go to the bar in half an hour. I would wait an hour if I wasn’t so hungry.” Harry rubs his tummy and Lizzie can’t help but chuckle at the cute sight. Harry’s face seem to light up as a smile creeps unto his lips.

“That’s okay with me, I’m rather hungry myself,” Lizzie replies with a smile.

So that’s what they do. Harry disappears into the bathroom for a couple of minutes before it’s Lizzie’s turn. The bags are still under his eyes but there’s more color in his cheeks and his hair isn’t hanging limply anymore when he walks out.. Lizzie washes her face and neck, combs her hair and changes into different clothes before leaving the bathroom again. Harry has changed his clothes as well. He’s now wearing jeans with a lot, like a lot of holes and a band tee. He has swapped his green bandana for a fellow one.

The distance between the bar and the hotel is only a ten minute walk. It’s probably why Harry choose the hotel in the first place. The place is packed when they enter.

“You go get a table while I get us something to drink,” Harry shouts at Lizzie over the loud music. His leaning really close to Lizzie and breathing into her ear. A pleasant shiver runs down her spine at the sensation.

Lizzie doesn’t answer, just nods her head when Harry’s pulled back. He smiles at her and presses a hand against her back. It feels warm and really really nice and Lizzie really can’t have that so she takes a step forwards, creating more space between her and Harry. His smile falters a bit but it returns within seconds.

“See you in a bit.”

Harry turns around and disappears into the crowd. Lizzie turns around and starts searching for a table. She finds one quite near to the stage a balding man with a trimmed beard is playing the piano on. There’s a blonde girl standing at the center of the stage who’s singing about a man who cheated on her. She has quite a lovely voice.

It takes a while for Harry to find Lizzie. She spots that his shirt is rumpled and that there are smutches of lipstick on both his cheeks and jaw as he sits down next to her. He grins at her and puts a glass filled with red wine down in front of Lizzie.

“You ran into some fans, I see,” Lizzie jokes. There’s an unpleasant feeling in her stomach she can’t quite name.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckles as he blushes. He starts rubbing her cheeks , trying to get rid of the red marks. “Thought I got rid of all the lip stick.”

“Not quite,” Lizzie chuckles. She takes the napkin that was stuck to the bottom of her glass and leans closer to Harry. Her cheeks feel a bit hotter, probably from the humid air in the bar. “Here, let me help you.”

Because she likes being a little shit, Lizzie dips the napkin into Harry’s beer and starts rubbing his cheek with a grin.

“You’re going to make my cheeks all sticky,” Harry complains but he doesn’t try to stop her. Instead, his eyes twinkle beneath the yellow lights. Lizzie rather like the sight.

“You rather I do it with my spit?” Lizzie challenges Harry.

He shrugs his shoulder and says, “Why not. It’s probably more effective.”

“Well, if that’s what you want…” Lizzie stops rubbing her cheek and puts the napkin against her lips. Her eyes remain on Harry as she wets the white paper with her tongue. Harry meets the challenge head on, not once breaking eye contact.

He doesn’t flinch as Lizzie puts the napkin against his cheek again. He doesn’t tell her to stop as she continues trying to get rid of the red stains. It appears her spit is indeed more effective as the smutches finally start to fade.

Unlike the lip stick, the cheerful atmosphere doesn’t fade as the night progresses. On contrary, it only gets better the more booze Harry and Lizzie drink after they’ve had their dinner. They ate at a diner at the other side of the road before returning to the bar.

When they finally leave, Lizzie feels like she’s walking on clouds. It’s been a while since she’s been this happy and she just doesn’t want to night to end.

Harry has had a lot less to drink, so Lizzie can lean on him as they stager towards their hotel. Having lost her inhibitions, Lizzie is constantly running her hands through his curls while constantly mumbling about how soft to the touch they are. She doesn’t put it in such an elegant way, of course. Harry begrudgingly doesn’t stop her from touching him.

They manage to get to their room without making too much noise. Lizzie falls asleep as soon as she’s laying down. Harry tries to wake her, not wanting her to sleep in her clothes, but it’s in vain.

That night, Harry sleep in clothes for the first time in fifteen years.

Notes